I Am the Pace Man

It's a commonly known fact that the Beatles were runners. They've made several movies where the band was being chased by countless womens and maybe a couple of dudes. Luckily, they were never caught. In fact, 8 Days a Week was about their newly found love for running. The song A Hard Day's Night is a tribute to their marathon training.  The movie poster for A Hard Day's Night shows their ability to outpace their would-be captors even in street clothes and without their running shoes. And they have me to thank for that.

What people don't fully realize is how much these guys trained. I remember when I took them on their first training run in Liverpool. They were pathetic. I was hired by Brian Epstein to get these kids in shape. It was tough. John and Paul could at least run a full kilometer without stopping. George was smooth and light on his feet but had absolutely no endurance. There was something in the way he moved, though. Pete Best couldn't even make it a full 100 meters (this was England, so they used the metric system at that time). As the other members of the band progressed, Pete couldn't keep up leading to the decision to force him out of the band and replace him with an up-and-coming running Starr.

We needed a plan for the boys to get in shape and practice their music. They were concerned. I  made it clear that we could work it out but it would be a long and winding road. They had to get back to the basics. Within anytime at all, they learned that happiness was a warm run.

Their biggest issue was in the pacing, or lack thereof. They asked me why they were always in misery. They were really obsessed trying to get fast and would constantly check the data. I told them that they needed to let it be and just do most of their runs at an easy pace and be consistent. It was George who really challenged the idea and asked me to prove that I can pace well. I told him to look at my data. Here's the run from yesterday.

Here I had 4 miles with an average pace of 8:44 and each of the splits +/- 4 seconds of that time. George remained unconvinced, since it was such a short run (we was really starting to dig this distance thing) and wanted more. So I floated a 6 miler that averaged 8:38s. And if it weren't for the ice on my drive, that first mile would have fallen in line more nicely with the others. Such is a day in the life during the winter.

Paul and John, ever so competitive, wanted to see this for themselves.  (Aside: Ringo couldn't care less. He had a ticket to ride and was just happy they let him play every once in a while. In reality, he didn't care. /End Aside.) They made it so we would all come together as a group for a long run. I took them on a 12+ miler and chatted things out for a while. I have a feeling that they really just wanted to listen to me ramble about nonsensical gibberish, as I'm known to do. Mostly I do it for the others since I feel fine and they're the ones who needed to work.  I'd float how they need to run like pigs from a gun. Or sit on a corn flake. I'd send insults to them when they started slowing down. "Come on you crabalocker fishwife." "Let's go Semolina Pilchard." "Don't let your knickers down." Stuff like that. They nailed that run. That was 12 miles with less than a 7 second spread.

When they asked how I do it, I responded that it's simple. I am the Pace Man. Now, they are the Pace Men. I am the Banter.

Here's one more for good measure. 13+ miles averaging 8:38 with an 8.7 second spread.

Goo goo g'joob.