Going Nowhere Fast: Runners and Treadmills

As New England experiences its snowiest, iciest December in recent memory, many runners cope by doing daily runs on treadmills -- working out in the climate-controlled comfort of their local health clubs or YMCAs, and avoiding the perils of running through the ice and snow on dark, narrow roads.

I’m sympathetic, I really am, but personally, I find it difficult to accept treadmills into my life. In the past three decades, I would estimate that I have logged fewer than a dozen runs on machines (treadmills, elliptical trainers, etc.). It never feels legitimate to me, and afterwards I always wonder whether to even bother recording the “miles” in my training log.

I don’t even like the word “treadmill.” The purpose of a mill is to grind something down into a fine meal, or cut it into small pieces. Subjecting myself to treadmill running makes me feel like I’m milling my running stride into powder.

My dislike of these machines could also be a form of stubbornness, an unwillingness to admit that moving from the great outdoors to the cozy indoors is an acceptable response to the vicissitudes of training in Boston. I think there’s something to be said for “toughening” oneself through exposure to heat, cold, wind, and rain. On the other hand, plenty of good runners – great runners, even – have no problem incorporating treadmill training into their schedules. Norway’s great marathoner Ingrid Kristiansen trained extensively on a treadmill through the long Scandinavian winters. In 1985, she held the world records in the 5000m, 10,000m, and marathon. Apparently, treadmills are not just for wimps.

But I still don’t like them.

When I climb on a treadmill, I feel that I can’t let my mind wander. I think about the machine underneath me, stare at the display in front of me, and wish I were outside. I always start out running at a snails pace, and only very gradually do I approach speeds comparable to my outdoor runs. I feel that I could go faster, but somehow lack all motivation to do so. My simple brain can’t quite get over the fact that, to put it bluntly: I’m not going anywhere – I’m just treading air. I know that not everyone feels this way. People tell me that they do hard workouts on the treadmill, that they like being able to focus on their form, without distractions.

Not being a treadmill runner myself, I struggle to understand this, and I never fully trust reports about treadmill workouts. Several years back, I was giving coaching advice to a runner who, unbeknownst to me, was doing all his runs on a treadmill. It was early fall, the most beautiful time of the year, but he just happened to prefer running indoors on the treadmill. Anyway, he kept telling me about these really great workouts he was doing: four miles in 24 minutes, six miles, with the last mile at 5:45, and so on. This was a guy who had never broken 18:30 for 5K, but with such great workouts, it seemed a cinch that he would lower his personal best by a plenty the next time he raced. Then one day it came out that all these workouts of his had been done on a treadmill. Aha, I thought, making a mental note that none of those impressive workouts had been achieved in the real world. He never did run faster than six-minute pace that fall.

This raises another set of questions: in what ways are the physics of running on a moving belt different than the physics of actual running? Do the muscles fire in the same sequence to maintain position on a moving belt as they do when they are working against the solid ground? What effect does an inclined treadmill have, and how is it different than running up a real hill? I try to think about these questions, but I don’t feel that I have the scientific background to do so. I just feel a vague suspicion that the differences will turn out to be important somehow.

(There is some information on the web about the physics of treadmill running. Here’s one analysis,

Treadmill running and natural running differences

Another obvious difference is that when running on a treadmill, an athlete doesn’t have to overcome air resistance. While this effect is fairly negligible at slow speeds, it becomes increasingly important as you approach race pace.

But in the end, I think a preference for running in the snow and slush vs. running in pace on a treadmill is based on a set of fundamental beliefs about what running is, and what it means in your own life. For me, running is and always has been about attaining a kind of freedom. Being able to go where I like and get there at my own speed has always been of paramount importance to me. (This vexed my coaches, I’m sorry to say). I don’t get that sense of freedom with a treadmill, and that’s probably why I’ll almost always sacrifice the structure, the predictability, and the comfort of the health club workout, and instead take my chances with terrestrial terrain.