It was a curious dilemma. Taking full advantage of the wonderful professors and the excellent textbooks, I had been exposed to pretty much everything about running that had been accumulated in scientific and educational practice of that time. But the one thing I wanted most – a method of teaching running technique – was simply non-existent in current theory and practice.
What did exist was a body of different and generally contradictory viewpoints on the significance of running technique and the methods of teaching it. One prevailing theory held that running was second nature to humans and should not or could not be taught, since each individual’s running style was preordained, essentially at birth, by his or her physical stature. Another bit of popular wisdom taught that the appropriate running technique differed for sprints, middle distances and marathons and thus required different ways of teaching it in every case.
Regardless of what side of this fence they were on, most qualified coaches and teachers appeared to agree on a certain mindset concerning running. Almost without exception, they believed that running is a simple exercise, and the best runners were those who combined the hardest training with superior genetic makeup. Following this reasoning, they felt there was little necessity to pay much attention to the specifics of running technique, unlike other track and field events like jumping, hurdling or throwing or, for that matter, other movement disciplines like ballet, karate or dancing where technique was considered of paramount importance.
Mastering any of these other endeavors, it was universally agreed, requires extensive involvement of intellectual and psychological efforts structuring fundamental movement, creating mental imagery and perfecting repetitive motions. At the same time, we were expected to believe that running, perhaps the most essentially human movement of all, required no technical training.
So I was puzzled by the realization that basically I didn’t know what running is, from a biomechanical and psychological standpoint. Consequently, I didn’t know either what to teach or how to teach my students. I felt simultaneously powerless and challenged. With nowhere left to turn for answers, I knew I would have to work this out for myself. The question had been ripening in me for a long time, but had never felt so urgent as it did this gray, dreary day.