Mike Murray essay -- Legs on Cars

1 April 2007

Legs on Cars

--by Mike Murray

Some things are so ridiculous as to require no comment. The truly ludicrous is simply not to be believed; it therefore demands no rebuttal. At least, that’s what I used to think.

Several years ago, while raving about the performances of wheelchair athletes competing in a Cleveland-area marathon, someone in the room gushed: “And just look at those times!”

The wheelchair winner had completed the 26.2 miles in less time than had the top able-bodied runner. (Or is it fully appendaged runner these days? Less-bodily challenged trotter? Fully bodied biped? Whatever.)

The commmenter’s implication was that the person confined to the wheeled chair was likely the superior athlete, seeing as how he got to the finish line fastest.

Please.

Spare me the politically correct claptrap. We all cheer the less fortunate (or is it the differently fortuned?) who get out there and compete. But acknowledging their efforts shouldn’t require us to check our sanity at the door.

Unless the racecourse is an uphill one, traversing it faster by wheelchair than by foot is no trick. Here’s a hint: there is a reason they don’t put legs on cars. A darn good one.

I’ll go slowly: wheels roll. Legs bound. All that wheels typically need to overcome to achieve motion on flat ground is friction. Legs, on the other hand, have gravity to contend with. A much tougher foe. At some point in the running stride, the athlete must become airborne. He or she must spring completely clear of the Earth.

No matter how fluid the form, no matter how beautiful the stride, all runners struggle against unavoidable inefficiency. Newton’s discovery is one tough opponent. Runners are forced to jump with each stride. Each step is a leap upward into the air, as well as a push forward.

With the possible exception of the ones attached to cheetahs and thoroughbreds, legs are decidedly inferior to wheels as a means to motion. Shoot, if they made sense, Detroit would’ve figured it out by now. Okay, maybe U.S. carmakers would still be in the dark. But clever Asians and German engineers would’ve long ago caught on.

Fact is, the person who had praised wheelchair athletes’ performances wasn’t so much marveling at their accomplishments as she was dissin’ the exploits of competitors (like me) who get by on two legs.

If she thought she was going to be able to slide that cheese by me, she had another think coming. Sure, it’s taken me years to come up with a comeback. But “better late than never.” Or, “revenge is a dish best served cold.” Or something like that. So there. (Also, “Your old lady wears combat boots, missy.” Ha!)

So where was I? Oh, yeah. Legs versus wheels.

Fast forward to 2006 and Lance Armstrong’s turn to running. You know Lance: the multiple-time winner of the Tour de France. Armstrong has often been called the best athlete in the world. And, were the conversation limited to endurance sports, few would argue the point.

After seven triumphs in “the Tour” (most by anyone, ever), Armstrong decided to retire and apply his prodigious talent and his remarkable determination (he’s a cancer survivor as well as a top-notch athlete) to the New York City Marathon.

Armstrong didn’t take the race lightly. He prepared for it for many months, doggedly logging miles on foot with the same tenacity that enabled him to conquer the roads of France (and to best the world’s top cyclists). People who know Lance well all say the same thing: he is intense. He is one tough hombre.

Merely reaching the finish line of NYC’s marathon wasn’t demanding enough for someone with Armstrong’s steely constitution. He wanted to distinguish himself. He’s Lance freakin’ Armstrong, after all. People expect much of him. He expects even more of himself.

So after a bit of sport-specific acclimation training, he settled on a goal: to break three hours. Frankly, I was a little surprised. I’ve run under three hours several times. And no one ever compared me to the greatest athletes on the planet.

Someone like Armstrong – someone possessed of a supercharged cardiovascular system, a pedal-to-the-metal mindset – shouldn’t he have aimed a little higher? No matter. Primary rule of goal setting: make it challenging, but attainable. And it was his first marathon, after all.

So I awaited the race with great anticipation. Beverage in one hand, bag of chips in the other (I view most races from the comfort of my easy chair these days), I settled in to watch.

Lance did himself proud. As always, he laid it all on the line. He pushed himself hard. He ground it out, mile after mile. He drove himself relentlessly to the end. And he achieved his goal: he completed the course in two hours, fifty-nine minutes, and some odd seconds. With a half-minute or so to spare, he did what he set out to do. Good for him.

And for what he said upon completion, I will be forever grateful: “That was the toughest thing I’ve ever done.”

Got that, years-ago insulter of able-bodied runners? The guy hailed as the world’s best endurance athlete flatly conceded that turning in a merely decent performance on foot (hundreds of runners beat him that day) was harder than conquering the world’s best on two wheels.

I concede that Armstrong might have been given to temporary delirium. It has been said that competing vigorously in marathons – filling each and every one of the many minutes involved with “sixty seconds' worth of distance run” – is a little like giving birth: if people could fully remember the pain involved, they’d never do it twice. Looked at another way, in the moments just following running 26 miles or birthing a baby, nothing seems as conceivably difficult. (Sorry, couldn’t resist.)

So I’m not really contending that marathoners are better athletes than cyclists. But the rigors of pounding out mile after mile on foot certainly gained Armstrong’s respect.

There is a darn good reason that they put wheels on cars. It’s perfectly clear that things that roll (bicycles, wheelchairs) have a distinct advantage over legs when it comes to locomotion.

It’s also apparent to me that I will periodically need to confront absurd notions. Hey, someone’s got to do it.

Now, what’s this I hear about the AARP claiming (in television ads) to be the best advocate for young people? Good grief, what’s next? The KKK pretending supreme devotion to African-Americans?

Let me ‘splain a few things to you nitwits...