TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
Bold text is denoted by =equal signs=.
The 'pointing hand' symbol has been replaced by ==>.
The form of fractions in this book, for example '9 1-4' for 9¼,
has been retained.
Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
the text and consultation of external sources.
More detail can be found at the end of the book.
[Illustration: HAND BOOK of SUMMER SPORTS
PEDESTRIANISM
RUNNING & JUMPING
BICYCLING
ARCHERY
HARE & HOUNDS
&c.
BEADLE AND ADAMS--NEW YORK
The American News Co., 39 & 41 Chambers St. N.Y.]
STANDARD BOOKS OF GAMES AND PASTIMES
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DIME BASE-BALL PLAYER FOR 1880.
Containing the League and National Club Averages for 1879, together
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to assimilate his play to that of other people. It is, therefore,
highly desirable that one uniform system should be generally adopted,
and hence the object of this work is to establish a recognized method
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HAND-BOOK OF PEDESTRIANISM.
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BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, 98 WILLIAM ST., N. Y.
HANDBOOK
OF
SUMMER ATHLETIC SPORTS,
COMPRISING:
WALKING, RUNNING,
JUMPING, HARE AND HOUNDS,
BICYCLING, ARCHERY, ETC.
_WITH COMPLETE AMERICAN AND ENGLISH
ATHLETIC RULES._
EDITED BY CAPT. FRED. WHITTAKER.
NEW YORK:
BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
98 WILLIAM STREET.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1880, by
BEADLE AND ADAMS,
In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
[Illustration: Spectators Seats.]
CONTENTS.
PAGE.
PEDESTRIANISM, 9
WALKERS VS. RUNNERS, 11
SCIENTIFIC WALKING, 14
SCIENTIFIC RUNNING, 19
DRESS FOR PEDESTRIANS, 23
TRAINING FOR A MATCH, 25
LAYING OUT A TRACK, 30
CONDUCTING A MATCH, 35
RECORDS OF PEDESTRIANISM, 38
JUMPING AND POLE-LEAPING, 43
BICYCLING, 46
AMERICAN ATHLETIC RULES, 49
ENGLISH ATHLETIC RULES, 56
HARE AND HOUNDS, 57
ARCHERY, 60
HANDBOOK
OF
SUMMER ATHLETIC SPORTS.
PEDESTRIANISM.
A wonderful increase of popularity has lately attended the art
of walking. The steady improvement made in speed and endurance
by professional and amateur walkers and the introduction of
international contests have brought this about within a few years.
When the firm of BEADLE AND ADAMS published their first Dime book
of Pedestrianism, the only American walker of reputation was Edward
Payson Weston. The record of professionals and amateurs had then
developed nothing greater than the performances of Captain Barclay of
England, who first did a thousand miles in a thousand hours. Weston's
famous walk from Portland to Chicago caused the only ripple of
excitement in the sporting world on the subject of walking from the
time of Barclay up to 1870.
Since that period, things have changed greatly. Weston's achievements
have inspired others, and those others have not only equaled but
excelled Weston on many occasions. The names of O'Leary, Rowell,
Corkey, and "Blower" Brown, all men born in the British Islands,
have been recorded above those of Weston at different times; but it
remains to the glory of the American pedestrian that in 1879 he beat
them all.
All these changes and ups and downs in pedestrianism for the last
ten years have made the old books obsolete, and the publishers of
the former Dime Book of Pedestrianism have determined to issue a new
edition, fully up to the times in all respects.
Besides practical instructions in walking, founded on the different
styles of noted professionals, we shall annex much matter never
before put in a handbook, concerning the preparation of tracks,
measurements, timing and scoring, for the information of that large
class of people living in country towns and villages, who have plenty
of walkers, but no experience in the conduct of matches, and no
opportunity to see how things are done in first class matches.
Every one can walk, but not every one can become a great walker. Any
young man of good health and strength can learn to walk five miles
in an hour, but the number of men who can walk twenty-five miles in
five hours is very small, and will always remain so. If we take the
population of any town or village we shall find that out of every
hundred young men from eighteen to twenty-five years of age, there
are about sixty more or less given to athletic sports, twenty who are
very enthusiastic about them, and six or eight who would make _good_
walkers, runners and general athletes. Of this six or eight, there
is generally one who is better than his fellows, and he becomes the
village champion in one sport or another.
This is about the true proportion--one per cent--of the young male
community, that is capable of being taken at random and converted
into good professional walkers. A general system of early physical
training would soon increase this proportion, but as we are never
likely to see any such system adopted we must be content with what we
can get. Out of those capable of becoming great walkers and striving
to become so, the proportion of second rate men is quite large.
There have been great long-distance walkers before, and probably will
be again; but a man of the peculiar constitution of Edward Payson
Weston is very seldom met with. Other men have, at times, beaten
him; but he has outstayed them all at last in endurance. No other
athlete on record has remained among contestants of the first-class
for so many years, for be it remembered that Weston's career as a
walker began on Thanksgiving Day, 1867, the day on which he arrived
at Chicago from Portland, and that so late as 1879, twelve years
after, he was able to do 550 miles in a week against the best men of
England, at a time when his latest rival, O'Leary, had utterly broken
down. Ten years after his first appearance on the track, he was able
to give O'Leary, in his prime, a tough battle, making 510 miles in
six days, and none of his antagonists can say as much for themselves.
The average duration of a great long-distance man, whether walker or
runner, seems to be about two years. It was in 1876 that O'Leary came
to the top of the wave, and in 1879 he went under. Weston alone keeps
on, apparently as fresh at forty as he was at twenty-six.
All this argues in Weston very great physical power and strictly
temperate habits, and he possesses both in a remarkable degree.
There, however, the praise ends. As a scientific walker, Weston
is inferior, not only to O'Leary, but even pitted against such
amateurs as Harry Armstrong, of Harlem, C. Bruce Gillie, of the
Scottish-American Club, or a dozen others we could name. When he
was in his best form, about 1874-5, it was the remark of an English
trainer, that Weston was "a mystery to him; that he didn't see how he
could walk at all on the bad system he used, and that any other man
would have broken down utterly in the attempt." Weston used to get
through his tasks, and does still, but only at the cost of terrible
fatigue, which he might have saved himself on a better system.
O'Leary, on the other hand, is an example of how the best training,
constitution and system may be neutralized and overthrown by
over-confidence and dissipation. As a scientific walker, O'Leary has
no equal, and were he of the same temperate habits as Weston, he
might still head the list as world's champion. As it is, the rows of
empty champagne bottles that were taken from his tent at Gilmore's,
when he broke down in the Rowell match, were the evidence and symbol
of his ruin.
It was not in his case, as he said in the _Spirit of the Times_,
that "runners can beat walkers." O'Leary, himself, in four or five
matches, had beaten all the time ever made by runners, save that of
"Blower" Brown; but the O'Leary of those days had succumbed to high
living, and a poor excuse was better than none.
Yet, the man's system was, and is, magnificent, and enabled him to do
respectable work against Hughes and Campana, when he really was not
fit to go at all.
Had he possessed Weston's temperate habits, or had Weston possessed
O'Leary's science as a walker, the result would have been a
pedestrian wonder that would have lasted many years longer than
O'Leary.
WALKERS vs. RUNNERS.
The success of Weston and O'Leary in their long-distance walks in
England surprised the Britons greatly. Up to the time of Weston's
appearance in that country, Englishmen had been accustomed to
consider themselves the best walkers in the world; but the two
Americans--the native and the naturalized--soon took the conceit out
of them. The best English long-distance walkers were Peter Crossland
and Henry Vaughan, who had both done excellent work in matches of
the kind then practiced in England. But the introduction of six-day
contests, first started by Weston, put these professionals on
unfamiliar ground, and they found that a man who could walk a hundred
miles in one day was not able to cope with these American wonders,
who could finish five hundred miles in six days. The Englishmen laid
their defeat to the right cause--unfamiliar methods; and Sir John
Astley, a rich sporting baronet, to put both parties on an equality,
introduced the six-day "go-as-you-please" match, soon to supersede
all others. It was thought that runners would have the advantage over
walkers in this match. Their backers claimed that by going over the
ground faster they would gain more time for rest, and so in the end
go further. The first Astley Belt match falsified all their data. In
the famous contest at Agricultural Hall, London, from March 18th to
March 23d, 1878, Daniel O'Leary covered 520 1-4 miles, in 139 hours
6 minutes 10 seconds, confining himself to walking after the first
fifty miles. He had against him the great English long-distance
runners and the best long-distance walker, Vaughan, all of whom he
defeated decisively. Vaughan stopped at 500 miles--a score he has
never since equaled--"Blower" Brown retired at 477, and "Corkey,"
who had things all his own way for the first three days, broke down
utterly on the fourth; while Hazael and Rowell were earlier satisfied
that they had no chance.
In the same year O'Leary defeated with ease John Hughes and Peter
Napoleon Campana, surnamed "Sport," both runners, and seemed to be
secure of holding the Astley belt for life. Indeed, had he not,
like most sporting men, been deceived by the exaggerated reports of
Campana's prowess, he might be champion to-day.
The reason for this statement is simple. Campana's Bridgeport record,
as it turned out from after investigation, was a deliberate fraud,
got up by some low sporting men, who probably did not at first dare
to hope for the success which it attained. They began by running
their man on a short track, and when that fraud was discovered made a
merit of having the course publicly remeasured by the city surveyor.
The more important part of the fraud was not discovered till after
"Sport's" ignominious defeat by O'Leary, and then only by the
confession of his Bridgeport scorers and time-keepers. It turned out
that they had been crediting him with laps never run, and that they
had employed men to personate him, late at nights, when he was really
asleep, these men running for him. By means of these fraudulent
representations they rolled up such a score for Campana that he was
credited with 521 miles in a six-day match.
O'Leary, who, besides his Hughes match, had been giving several
400-mile walks, knew that he was no longer in condition to walk
against a good man for the championship, and therefore made the match
one for money alone. Had he allowed the belt to be in the stakes
there is no doubt that he would have won it for the third and last
time, when he would have become its absolute possessor.
In the meantime, however, the runners in England had been improving
their style immensely, for in the second Astley match, beginning
Oct. 28th, and closing Nov. 2d, 1878, William Gentleman, (_alias_
"Corkey,") made 520 2-7 miles in 137 hours, 58 min., 20 sec.; thus
beating O'Leary's distance by a trifle, and his time by more than an
hour. This match it was that raised the spirits of Sir John Astley,
and induced him to send over Rowell (who made 470 miles in the same
match) to beat O'Leary. Sir John knew what he was about, and had kept
O'Leary in view all the year.
The scores of the American champion's matches with Hughes and
Campana, showed that the man was failing, and if so, Rowell was good
enough to beat him, as there was no other really formidable walker in
America; so Astley judged, and correctly, too.
The victory of Rowell over the American walkers caused an
instantaneous revulsion of public sentiment in favor of runners, a
revulsion artfully increased by O'Leary's widely-published dictum
that the runners were always "bound to beat the walkers." This,
however, was not by any means proven at that time. The real truth was
that champagne, not Rowell, beat O'Leary; and Rowell's record in the
race was twenty miles short of the champion's best walking record.
The other competitors in the match were simply not first-class men.
The cause of the runners has, however, received a fresh impetus since
Rowell's victory by the still more remarkable feat of "Blower" Brown
(always a "good man") who in the third Astley belt match, April
22d-27th, 1879, made the amazing distance of 542 miles in 140 hours.
Finally the veteran Weston beat even Brown's record by the
superlative score of 550 miles over the same track, opposed to Brown
himself and Hazael.
Since that time Brown has made 553 miles over the same track, and a
negro lawyer from Boston named Hart has made 565 miles in Madison
Square Garden, finishing April 10, 1880.
As the record now stands, in contests where almost super-human
endurance and speed are required, ordinary runners may win, but
only at the expense of a waste of physical energy that a scientific
walker does not suffer. They go faster and manage to live through
the contest, but that is all. The introduction of "go-as-you-please"
contests, has, however, given rise to a new style of long-distance
running, which is as strictly scientific as professional walking,
and to these two branches of pedestrianism let us now devote our
attention.
SCIENTIFIC WALKING.
Every one walks more or less, but very few understand the principles
of scientific walking. The science consists in two things: 1st. How
to acquire the longest stride practicable to the physique of the
walker; 2d. How to distribute the weight of the body so that the
greatest effort shall be made with the least possible exertion.
[Illustration: THE UNSKILLED WALKER.]
Many walkers acquire the first part of this science, and some
understand the second division of the subject, but very few can
combine the two, like O'Leary. For short-distance matches, in
which contests up to twenty-five miles are included, the number of
scientific walkers is reasonably large, both among professionals
and so-called amateurs. They almost all walk on a correct system,
similar to that of O'Leary, but inasmuch as their exertions do not
last so long a time, they can afford to make them more vigorous. If
their stride be no longer, proportionately, than that of O'Leary,
the number of steps per minute taken by them is greater, and they
cover the ground at a rate that no untrained person can equal without
breaking into a trot.
The rate at which the best of them can go is shown by the marvelous
feats of Perkins, the English champion, who has the record of a mile
walked in _six minutes and twenty-three seconds_, and eight miles
walked in _an hour, less fifty-five seconds_. Such performances show
that Perkins can out-walk any ordinary road-horse going on a trot.
Even an amateur of our own country--T. H. Armstrong--has walked seven
miles in fifty-six minutes. It is needless to say that no untrained
person could equal this, four miles an hour being very sharp walking
to most people; and it becomes a matter of interest to know how the
professionals do it, and how their walk differs from that of an
unskilled man.
[Illustration: THE PROFESSIONAL.]
The sight of a walking-match does a good deal toward explaining
the mystery, and the foregoing cuts will show the main points of
difference between the skilled and unskilled pedestrian.
The unskilled amateur, who sets out to walk fast, generally makes
several grave mistakes. He leans his body forward, bends his back,
lowers his head, swings his arms at full length, and allows his knees
to bend. The consequence is that when he is doing his very best his
attitude is very much like that in the first cut, depicting the
unskilled walker.
There is no question that the poor fellow is doing his best, and
very little doubt that he can not last long at the rate he is going.
Contrast with this figure that of the second cut, showing a
professional in full stride. You are at full liberty to laugh at the
figure, for there is no question that it has strong elements of the
ludicrous; but for all that it is not exaggerated, and such attitudes
may be seen in every last short-distance match.
Now it is time to note the points of difference between the two men
and to show where the professional has the advantage over the other.
First note that a perpendicular line dropped from the center of each
man's chest between the shoulders to the ground, and continued upward
through his head would represent the line in which his weight falls.
Draw such a line and you will find that in the case of the unskilled
walker it strikes the ground close to his forward heel, while his
head is in advance of it. Consequently he has to support the weight
of his head, with all the disadvantage of leverage, by muscular
exertion, and the strain must fall on his back.
In the professional, on the other hand, the weight falls on a nearly
perpendicular column through the body, which is in balance, striking
the ground midway between the points of support--the feet. If the man
were to stop just where he is, he is in a position to resist a shove
either forward or back. A smart push from behind would infallibly
send our unskilled friend on his nose.
Note also that the professional's body, if anything, inclines
backward, and think of the reason. Remember that when in rapid motion
there is always a strong tendency to fall forward with the upper part
of the body, a consequence of its weight and momentum. The balance
of the body can therefore be sent a little back of the line which
would be proper when standing still, to counteract the force of this
momentum.
So much for distribution of weight.
Next note that the professional has both legs straight, and can
therefore take a greater stride than any one with bent knees. Note,
moreover, that he plants his heel first at the very extremity of his
stride, and thus gains on every step the whole length of his foot,
for after the heel is planted the toe comes down in advance by its
own weight without labor. If he were to point his toe downward, as in
the military "goose-step," he would lose all this advantage as soon
as the foot was planted.
Our next remark is that whereas the tyro swings his arms full length
with open hands the professional clenches his fists and bends his
arms double.
With this same action of the arms comes another of the shoulders,
which is of great importance. The working of the shoulders in fast
walking is a natural and almost ineradicable habit. A fast walker
_will_ swing his arms, no matter how he is cautioned. We have seen
many a drill master driven to despair by the swinging of arms of a
marching squad, after all his cautions. The fact is, the swing is
right and the drill master wrong. The faster a man walks, the more
his shoulders swing, by an effort of nature to lift the weight of
his body from the rear foot and to let it down on the front heel as
lightly as possible. The usual way of accomplishing this result is
to swing the arm at full length, but this fatigues the walker in two
ways: first, by the resistance of the air to the arm, cutting it;
second, by the leverage of the hand at the end of the arm, which has
to be counteracted by the shoulder muscles. Both these effects are
obviated by the simple expedient of bending the arm in proportion to
the speed, and clenching the hand. When at top speed, the forearm
of the advanced shoulder should be perpendicular, that of the rear
shoulder horizontal, and as the speed decreases so should the angle
of the arms become less acute. The difference in speed and ease of
movement between a walker who holds up his arms and one who lets
them swing full length is very striking, and our readers can try
for themselves the experiment of walking in both ways, noting the
advantage given by holding up the arms. In a race, it is a point that
soon tells.
Lastly we must give one special caution with regard to taking the cut
for an exactly accurate representation of what a man should do in
order to become a fast walker. As the artist has finished the figure,
many people might imagine that he had just made a _spring from the
toes of the left foot_, which is in rear. This should not be done, as
any weight sent on the toes soon tires out the walker, and although
the foot is bent as in the cut, the weight is taken off the toes by
working the shoulders. In fact as an English writer has well said,
modern professional walking is a series of springs from heel to heel.
There are some other points in scientific walking which require
the assistance of diagrams to explain them, and these concern the
position of the feet best calculated to secure a long stride at the
least expense of physical exertion.
If there is anything in scientific walking that is puzzling to a
civilized beginner, it is the things taught him in childhood which
he is now compelled to unlearn. A young savage who has never had
any lessons in "deportment," walks correctly enough, though he does
not generally care to exert himself sufficiently to make good time
at that pace, preferring the "dog-trot." But so far as he walks, he
always walks correctly, with a hollow back, stepping from heel to
heel, his arms bent, his head thrown back, his toes turned in. The
civilized boy, on the other hand, has a bad lesson given to him as
soon as he can talk. He is told to "turn his toes out."
Now it so happens that if you take two men, equally good walkers, and
let one turn his toes out, the other in, the "parrot-toed" man is
sure to beat the other in the long run.
The reason for this statement will be made plain by looking at the
following cut and reflecting on a few facts in connection therewith.
[Illustration: TWO METHODS OF WALKING.]
In the upper figure we have the foot tracks of a man walking with
his toes turned out; in the lower one the same foot takes the same
stride "parrot-toed." Note that both start with heels on the same
line, and that before a step is taken, the man who turns out his toes
has lost nearly an inch of forward progress, his toes not touching
the same line as that reached by the other, who carries his feet
straight. With the close of the first step the difference increases,
_both parties taking the same stride, measured from toe to toe_. The
parrot-toed man sets his heel down in advance of the other's heel,
and gains a further advantage by the greater reach of his toe at
every step.
The gain of the parrot-toed man is thus shown to be constant when
both parties use the same exertion, and must always give him the
race, other things being equal.
But there is another loss in turning the toes out, which is not less
important, and which is shown by the position of the large black
spots in the cut. These spots represent the point on which the weight
of the body falls in the middle of each stride, and a very important
difference will be noted in their position. In the case of the man
who turns his toes out, this spot comes under the joint of the great
toe, while in the other foot it lies between the second and third
toes.
In other words, when a man turns out his toes he places _all
his weight on a single joint_; when he walks parrot-toed it is
_distributed among five joints_. This difference in strain is
sure to tell in a long race. It is the experience of many a tramp
in moccasins and bare feet that makes the Indians and other wild
tribes walk parrot-toed, because any other way would soon lame
them. Our civilized stiff-soled boots, by distributing the weight
of the body over a large surface, permit us to go on walking in a
vicious fashion, as long as we do not have to use much exertion,
but when we come to serious pedestrianism, we must return to savage
_i.e._ natural ways, or the strain will tell in lameness, inside of
twenty-four hours' work.
The celebrated Indian-painter, George Catlin, gives in his "Travels"
a striking instance of the difference of the two systems. He was
a large, powerful man, and counted himself a good walker in the
old times. Therefore, when, in company with a number of trappers,
fur-traders and Indian employes of the Fur Company, he set out for a
hundred-and-fifty-mile tramp over the prairie in moccasins, he made
up his mind to lead the caravan and outwalk every one.
For the first day he did so, but then found himself lame; and next
day, in spite of all he could do, he fell behind inferior men and
became a straggler. At the evening camp-fire, the second day, an
old trapper noticed his condition and told him the secret of his
non-success.
"You are walking in moccasins," said the hunter, "and you must learn
_to turn in your toes, as the Indians do_."
Catlin took the advice, went to the head of the line next day, and
had no more trouble in keeping his place.
The moral of the story is obvious. If you wish to last to the end of
a match, _turn your toes in_.
SCIENTIFIC RUNNING.
If there is anything which the records of modern pedestrianism
settles, it is that we have yet a good deal to learn from savages.
Here we have been walking matches and running other matches for
the last fifty years, only to settle down into the regular Indian
lope, or dog-trot, for long distance traveling, as faster and less
exhausting than the fastest walk.
This pace, introduced for the first time into civilized contests
by "Blower" Brown, Hazael, Corkey and Rowell, is the very same
which the Indian runners of the forest tribes have used from time
immemorial. It is the same with which the Hindoo palkee-bearers swing
through the jungle for mile after mile under a tropic sun without
apparent distress, and the universal method adopted by savage and
semi-barbarous people whenever they wish to journey fast on foot. The
civilized untrained man when he tries the same pace commonly makes a
mess of it. "Old Sport," _alias_ Campana, was a good exemplar of the
civilized idea of a dog-trot--that of the old volunteer fire-brigade
of New York city. It was a fair trot, but it would not last forever.
Campana put up both arms, working his shoulders as in a walk, and
lifted his feet high before and behind, with a weary-looking, lagging
step. It entailed about the same exertion as a fast walk and got over
the ground no faster. Too much work was _wasted in perpendicular
motion_.
[Illustration: LONG-DISTANCE RUNNER.]
A model of truly scientific long-distance running is found in little
Charley Rowell, whose style is an exact imitation of Brown, Corkey
and Hazael. All four are men of about the same size and weight,
standing five feet six inches, and weighing from 130 to 140 lbs. The
probable reason for their taking to running was their small size,
which debarred them from success as walkers against men with six
inches more stride. As runners they have all glided into the same
system, which is fairly represented in the cut above, taken from the
attitude of Rowell.
The first thing that one notices about this figure is its ease, and
the absence of all appearance of effort. The professional walker,
in the cut in preceding chapter, looks as if he was walking hard,
but this fellow seems trying to run as slow as he can. The fact is
that, while not actually trying to go _slow_, he is trying to _save
himself_ as much exertion as is compatible with getting over the
ground a little faster than the fastest walk. Such a pace is from
six to eight miles an hour, and such a pace can be maintained by a
well-trained man like Rowell after he is unable to walk over three
miles an hour.
There are several points to notice about the attitude, especially
the position of the head and the way the nose is elevated in the
air. When Rowell started after O'Leary on his dog-trot with his nose
in the air, people laughed at him and thought he was playing monkey
tricks; but when Rowell kept his nose in the air for six days it
began to be seen that he had a reason for so doing.
If any of our readers will try the experiment of running for a
distance with the head down and then change to Rowell's plan, nose
in air and teeth tightly clenched, they will be surprised at the
difference in ease of respiration. Throwing up the head makes the
passage from nose to windpipe nearly straight, and the air has no
corners to turn before reaching the lungs. In fast running, or any
long-continued exertion, it is necessary to keep the mouth closed,
to prevent the rapid evaporation that takes place when the air comes
in through the open mouth, parching up the throat. But if we try to
breathe _through the nose alone_, with the head bent down, we find
that the air does not come freely enough, and distress soon compels
us to open the mouth, after which we are speedily at the end of our
tether--and wind. Holding up the head in the fashion depicted in
the cut renders a two hours' run a matter of comparative ease to a
well-trained man, and enables one like Hazael to run his 137 miles in
26 hours.
The next point to notice about our long-distance friend is the
position of his arms, which are slightly bent and held rigid by
the sides, to steady the walls of the lungs and thus let the chest
be kept fully dilated as long as possible. If the man in the cut
were running a "sprint race"--that is for any distance inside of a
furlong--his arms would go up to the same angles as those of the
professional walker, because then he would be at top speed. As it is
he is going _as easily as he can_, and does not run fast enough to
be able to keep his arms up, _without a conscious muscular exertion,
which would tell in a race_.
The art of long-distance running is one of real value to any one
who wishes to increase the size of his legs to shapeliness, and to
be able to go long steps rapidly with the least fatigue. This pace,
alternated with walking whenever the breath fails, can be adopted
by any person with advantage to health. The strain comes on the
muscles of the front of the thigh and calf of the leg, and a return
to walking rests these more completely than actual standing still.
The combination of the two forms the "go-as-you-please" contest.
[Illustration: SPRINT RUNNER.]
We have thus fully noticed long-distance running before treating of
"sprint" races and other short dashes, because it is a more important
branch of athletics. The correct system is one that can be readily
acquired by all, old and young, and will be found of great value
whenever one is in a hurry to go to a certain place. The regular
long-distance trot will take a person further and faster than any
other known method of unaided progression.
A few words about sprint running will appropriately close this
chapter.
By the term "sprint" races are meant all those dashes at full
speed which are not over a furlong in length. Seventy-five and
one-hundred-yard dashes are the most common, and the question of
excellence as a sprint racer, or "sprinter," depends on single
seconds or fractions thereof in time, while the benefits derived from
the practice are nothing like those of the mile or ten-mile runner.
The form required, however, merits observation.
Sprint running is only an exaggeration of the system displayed
in long-distance work. The arms rise as in fast walking, and for
the same reasons, till they are doubled up. The work, being fast,
requires that the lungs be kept expanded, therefore the arms are
kept stiff and rigid to aid the chest muscles in holding out the
walls of the thorax to give room to the lungs. The distribution of
weight, on account of the rapid motion, comes to be much the same
as in fast walking, but the knees are bent of necessity; because in
running the progression is made by springs from toe to toe, instead
of heel to heel. The same cause admits of the upper part of the body
falling forward, though the elevation of nose and hollowing of back
is even more important than in long-distance work, inasmuch as the
exertion is more severe while it lasts. The cut on preceding page
will illustrate the difference between the sprint runner and the
long-distance man.
Having thus treated of scientific walking and running simply with
regard to their mechanical action, we can next turn to the subject of
the proper dress to be adopted to make both easy for the pedestrian.
DRESS FOR PEDESTRIANS.
The first question of importance both to walkers and runners is how
they shall be shod, and too much attention cannot be paid to this
matter. We will begin with the needs of a walker.
It is not our intention to advertise any particular firm of
shoemakers as unequaled in the manufacture of walking-shoes; for the
fact is that the very best of the crack firms will turn out botch
jobs if you do not watch them sharply.
There are four points to be attended to in the selection of
walking-shoes:--First, the sole of the shoe must be _under the whole
of the foot_; second, the uppers must be soft and flexible; third,
the fit must be snug around the ankle and heel, but easy at the toes;
fourth, the heels must be low and broad.
To secure the first of these points there is only one certain way,
which is to stand in stocking feet on a piece of paper, and have the
outline of your sole traced on the paper, the actual sole of the shoe
being cut to this pattern, and never coming inside of the line.
The second and third points depend on your own vigilance and
determination not to let the maker put off a stiff, ill-fitting pair
of shoes on you. As for the last point, low broad heels, no heels at
all would be better. Very low heels of India rubber would, however,
diminish the jar of fast walking, and are worth more trial than they
have yet had.
The only reason for having a heel on a walking-shoe is to enable
it to resist the unequal wear that comes on that spot, and not to
elevate the heel of the natural foot.
With regard to the first point, that of the sole being under
the whole of the foot, this cannot be too much insisted on, for
shoemakers _will_ make them narrower, with the idea of giving an
appearance of smallness to the feet. Your only remedy is to refuse
to take all shoes where the maker does not follow exactly the paper
pattern of sole.
The softness and flexibility of the uppers are more easily secured,
as also the fit round the ankle, where walking-shoes should be
_laced_. Buttoned boots or "Congress gaiters" with elastic sides are
not fit to walk in, as neither can be accommodated to the size of a
foot that is swelling during a severe match. Laces can be relaxed or
tightened; buttons are inflexible; while elastic webbing always keeps
the same pressure.
A professional walker, or one who is ambitious of excelling on the
track will need six pairs of shoes in a long race, beginning with
those that fit close and changing to those that are old, worn, and
easy to the foot, as it becomes sore and inflamed. The man who
rests his hopes of fame on mile-walks, needs a different foot-gear,
analogous to that of the sprint runner, whom he resembles. Strong
shoes are thrown away on him. He needs the very lightest kind of
slipper that can be made, consistent with enough leather to preserve
the foot from bruises, and the running slippers that are sold in all
sporting warehouses are just the thing for this kind of work. Those
that are furnished with spikes are well enough for running on turf,
but to be avoided on hard tracks.
Next after the shoes, and equally great in importance, come the
socks. There is only one point necessary to be observed about these:
they should be of soft woolen and as thick as possible. Hand-knit are
preferable to woven socks, but the thickness and softness are the
great points, as these secure the absorption of the perspiration.
Cotton socks would be sure to work into hard wrinkles in a match-walk
and cause severe blisters, though it must be owned that these will
sometimes occur in spite of all imaginable precautions.
About the rest of a pedestrian's dress there is but little to say;
as it depends almost entirely on individual fancy. There is no
doubt that the best dress for active work of all kinds is a suit of
common white cotton tights, which cost less than two dollars, while
trunk-breeches can be made at home at an almost nominal cost.
But whether the walker rejoice in silk tights and velvet trunks, or
remain satisfied with the homely flannel drawers and cardigan jackets
of Rowell, is a matter of indifference to his speed. The only things
he CANNOT wear if he hopes to do good walking, are ulster overcoats
and trowsers. In a word, his dress may be anything he likes, so long
as it leaves his joints free; and this is why knee-breeches have
never given way to trowsers on a walking-track.
Trowsers are in fact the worst dress possible for all active
exercise. They cramp the knee and prevent its free action in a
manner which, while it does not interfere materially with walking at
ordinary rates of speed, affects a runner seriously by the time he
has passed over a few yards at top speed.
TRAINING FOR A MATCH.
The word "training" in modern times has come to comprise two separate
branches of athletic science. The first is a system of practice on
a special feat till the trained man accomplishes it with ease and
certainty; the other and more important branch aims to bring the
trained man to the highest pitch of health and strength.
When he has attained this point he is said to be in "condition."
It is plain therefore that a perfect system of training cannot afford
to leave out either of these branches. A man may be trained to walk
or run in the best possible style and fail in a race on account of
poor condition; or again he may be in the finest physical condition
and fail on account of defective system of walking or running.
The many races of the late champion Daniel O'Leary illustrate both
these facts very sensibly. When he went to England to meet Weston and
the great pedestrians, he kept himself in good condition, and used
the best system of walking known. The consequence was that he was
prepared at all points and beat all comers. When he came back to the
United States he was pitted successively against Hughes and Campana,
men whom he despised as opponents. Hughes was in excellent condition,
but did not understand the science of either walking or running;
and so tired himself out early in the race, which was easily won by
O'Leary on a small record.
Next the champion met Campana, a man who began to run too late in
life, and who then understood nothing but the jog trot for a day or
two. As a walker he was nowhere, his system being so bad that he
tired himself out when going at only four miles an hour. Here also
O'Leary had an easy victory; but it is worthy of remark that he was
more distressed to do four hundred miles in the Campana match, than
he had been to accomplish five hundred and twenty in the first Astley
belt match.
The whole reason was that he had allowed himself to get out of
condition, and so found his system feverish when it should have been
vigorous; while blisters that should have yielded to care rapidly
increased in size and made the greater part of the walk a positive
torture to him. It became evident that if he were to be pitted
against a man in good condition with a good system, he would go
under, and the next race realized the expectation. Coming against
Rowell, Harriman and Ennis, all in fair condition, he broke down
utterly and left the track for good.
Rowell, the winner of the match, is an example of the success which
is sure to meet a man who combines perfect system and perfect
condition. His opponents, Harriman and Ennis, while not in bad
condition, were not models in that way. Harriman was too much of a
vegetarian, and Ennis was always cursed with a rebellious stomach.
The little Englishman on the other hand was in perfect condition and
used a system of progression that exactly suited him. His short legs
made a long walking stride impossible; therefore he took to trotting;
but by dint of long practice acquired a trot which he could keep up
for hours at a time, with no more fatigue than that involved in fast
walking, while it covered more ground.
Later matches have but emphasized these points. The records of
distance made in six-day contests have gradually risen, as man
after man has acquired a better system of traveling, while all have
kept themselves in better condition; and thus we see men who began
like Merritt, Krohme, Hart, Panchot, Fitzgerald and a dozen others,
gradually bettering their performances, till the American track has
fairly beaten the English in the number of "five hundred mile men" it
has turned out.
One thing has been demonstrated in all these races beyond a doubt;
which is, that no man can safely train _himself_ for a great feat. He
may do it during preliminary practice and at small matches where his
opponents are not dangerous; but when it comes to a supreme effort,
he must put himself into the hands of others, if he hope to make a
good record.
The men who do the training for matches in large cities are generally
retired pugilists or professional athletes of other kinds and
there's not much choice between them. The special work of the old
pugilistic trainer is to bring his man up to the highest point of
health and strength, besides sustaining him during the match. He
is generally a careful and experienced nurse, who understands the
efficacy of rubbings and baths to take the pain out of tired joints;
and will often perform wonders in the way of restoring a jaded man to
comparative freshness.
His weakness as a special trainer for pedestrians, lies in the fact
that he is not an expert in systems of walking, and so cannot give
his man much valuable instruction during his training.
The weakness of a professional pedestrian, on the other hand, lies
in the direction where the pugilist is strongest, that of general
physical training. His best point will probably be his ability to
criticise and improve the style of his pupil before the match. If
such a trainer can make his man go more miles in an hour with less
fatigue than he has ever done before, he will be worth a good deal of
money; but as a sustainer and imparter of strength he is not always
as successful. He is apt to let his man eat things that are not only
not beneficial, but often positively injurious; a mistake which the
pugilistic trainer never commits.
These facts render the selection of trainers a matter requiring a
good deal of judgment, and indicates different men for different
kinds of races.
If the object of ambition is to beat the world in a mile, five-mile
or twenty-five mile walk, square heel and toe, a professional
pedestrian is the man to employ as a trainer; as style and swiftness
are his special points, and the efforts required in short contests
are not so severe as to cause an exhausting drain on the physical
powers.
When the trial is changed to a sprint race, where great speed is
required and a severe temporary strain comes on heart and lungs, the
pugilist would answer the purpose better, as condition is the great
point in such a match, style being secondary.
For longer running contests up to twenty miles, where economy of
strength is everything, style becomes a valuable adjunct; and here
the professional runner is indicated as the proper trainer.
For twenty-four-hour walks and runs the professional pedestrian is
also the man to employ, as such efforts are not above the capacity of
men in fair condition.
Even as far as three-day contests, a moderate amount of physical
condition will take a man through without breaking down under the
strain, and a pugilistic trainer may be unnecessary.
When it comes, however, to the supreme efforts required to accomplish
five hundred miles in six days, two trainers are almost imperatively
required; one a pedestrian, to train for speed and style; the other
an old pugilist, who understands every point involved in putting a
man into first-class condition and nursing him under the tremendous
strain involved in a match. These men must be in constant attendance
on their pupil before the match, and will be obliged to lose as much
sleep as the competitor during the trial itself, unless they can be
relieved by others as good as themselves.
We have said this much on the subject of training, although
experience shows that trainers are not made by books. We recommend
every reader, ambitious to become a crack pedestrian, to put himself
into the hands of an old trainer whenever he can, paying his price
if he can afford it. If, however, this be impossible, and it be
absolutely necessary for the aspirant to train himself, a few safe
general rules may be laid down, which can be followed without danger,
and the observance of which is sure to give an easy victory over
_untrained_ men, such as attend country matches.
We will take them in order, beginning with sprint-racing.
HOW TO TRAIN FOR A SPRINT RACE.