I remember vividly watching the Payton Jordan Invitational on May 1, 2010. I was rooting hard--like many others--for Galen Rupp, who was shooting to break Meb Keflezighi's 9-year old American 10,000m record on the track. He did, of course.
But so did Chris Solinsky. In one of the most improbable track victories of this century, Solisnky--whom everyone thought was a 5000m specialist--became the first American man to break 27 minutes in the 10,000m. The fact that he ran so fast at Stanford was a thrill to the few thousand people who were either physically there or watching the live stream on Flotrack, but here is another troubling fact:
For American men, breaking American records on American soil has become exceedingly rare.
How rare? In the "post-Pre era" (which we'll define as post-1975), American distance runners in the mile, 5000m and 10,000m have broken an American record 21 times. Of those 21 times, only 4 of them have been broken in the United States: 3 times in California and once in Eugene, Oregon.
This is a remarkably low ratio for a country that has for decades prided itself on being the best, the biggest and the fastest with the best facilities and quickest tracks. How do we explain that more American records have been set in Norway or Belgium than the U-S of A?
More than a few track junkies will consider this statistic and explain, "Well, that's where the world-class competition is!" I would first point out that, of those 21 American records, none were set at an Olympics and most as of late have not been broken at a World Championship meet, either.
As to a perceived lack of world-class competition here in the United States, my question then becomes: why can't we consistently attract the type of superstar track athletes that will lead to more broken US records? Why is an American distance runner more than five times more likely to set our nation's records overseas, on foreign shores?
Many will point to lackluster publicity, handling and support by USA Track & Field. Given what the major media outlets in the United States have remarked about their recent handling of the Women's 100m tie situation at the Olympic Trials, USATF would be a convenient scapegoat and whipping boy. Undoubtedly, as the standard bearer of our sport, they share a great deal of the blame for failing to think outside of the box.
But what of our private industry? There have never been more major sports companies sponsoring athletes--this is definitely a fantastic thing. But you mean to tell me that between Nike, Adidas, Reebok, Puma, Newton, Saucony, Brooks, et. al., we can't put on multiple killer outdoor track events each year?
The bottom line consideration has to be this: How much pride do you have in American distance running? If your heart is in it, then why are you willing to accept our runners being forced to travel to Europe in order to run a fast, competitive race?
Unfortunately, I don't have the precise answer--yet. Whether it's more money, flashier tracks, better international promotion and relations or better quality of life and/or domestic treatment of our athletes, I'm not sure, but I'd be willing to bet it's some magical combination of all those things. Or maybe, in some romantic, literary fantasy world, the answer is simply: "If you build it, [they] will [run]."
Whatever the answer, once these Olympic Games are over, we've got a common cause to build around. American records, American runners, American soil. Let's do it.
But so did Chris Solinsky. In one of the most improbable track victories of this century, Solisnky--whom everyone thought was a 5000m specialist--became the first American man to break 27 minutes in the 10,000m. The fact that he ran so fast at Stanford was a thrill to the few thousand people who were either physically there or watching the live stream on Flotrack, but here is another troubling fact:
For American men, breaking American records on American soil has become exceedingly rare.
How rare? In the "post-Pre era" (which we'll define as post-1975), American distance runners in the mile, 5000m and 10,000m have broken an American record 21 times. Of those 21 times, only 4 of them have been broken in the United States: 3 times in California and once in Eugene, Oregon.
This is a remarkably low ratio for a country that has for decades prided itself on being the best, the biggest and the fastest with the best facilities and quickest tracks. How do we explain that more American records have been set in Norway or Belgium than the U-S of A?
More than a few track junkies will consider this statistic and explain, "Well, that's where the world-class competition is!" I would first point out that, of those 21 American records, none were set at an Olympics and most as of late have not been broken at a World Championship meet, either.
As to a perceived lack of world-class competition here in the United States, my question then becomes: why can't we consistently attract the type of superstar track athletes that will lead to more broken US records? Why is an American distance runner more than five times more likely to set our nation's records overseas, on foreign shores?
Many will point to lackluster publicity, handling and support by USA Track & Field. Given what the major media outlets in the United States have remarked about their recent handling of the Women's 100m tie situation at the Olympic Trials, USATF would be a convenient scapegoat and whipping boy. Undoubtedly, as the standard bearer of our sport, they share a great deal of the blame for failing to think outside of the box.
But what of our private industry? There have never been more major sports companies sponsoring athletes--this is definitely a fantastic thing. But you mean to tell me that between Nike, Adidas, Reebok, Puma, Newton, Saucony, Brooks, et. al., we can't put on multiple killer outdoor track events each year?
The bottom line consideration has to be this: How much pride do you have in American distance running? If your heart is in it, then why are you willing to accept our runners being forced to travel to Europe in order to run a fast, competitive race?
Unfortunately, I don't have the precise answer--yet. Whether it's more money, flashier tracks, better international promotion and relations or better quality of life and/or domestic treatment of our athletes, I'm not sure, but I'd be willing to bet it's some magical combination of all those things. Or maybe, in some romantic, literary fantasy world, the answer is simply: "If you build it, [they] will [run]."
Whatever the answer, once these Olympic Games are over, we've got a common cause to build around. American records, American runners, American soil. Let's do it.
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