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Bones are made of dynamic tissues that need stress, just not too much, says one of the world's best ultrarunners

In January, my social media feeds were filled with the typical new year posts—year-end recaps, reflections and resolutions, and hopes for the coming year. But one tweet caught my eye.

Ultrarunner Camille Herron shared one reason why she thought she was “crushing world records” in her forties: She only does one or two long runs a month (nothing over 22 miles) and she never does back-to-back long runs. Case in point: she ran one easy 20-miler in the lead-up to the Jackpot Ultra Running Festival’s 100-mile race last year, which she won outright. Instead, she focuses on cumulative volume and running frequency.

In her words, “Long runs are overrated.”

In the world of ultrarunning, where there’s a bravado around epic big-mileage days, Herron seems like an anomaly. Among the replies to her tweet, there was curiosity tinged with a side of skepticism. How could an ultra-distance athlete—one who holds world records for 100 miles and for the longest distance covered in 24 hours—run no longer than what you’d typically do in a marathon build-up? Shouldn’t her training mirror what she’d need to do in an ultra?

Karen Troy saw Herron’s tweet too. But her first thought was, “Wow. Someone’s actually trying to do it.” To Troy, who’s a professor of biomedical engineering and the director of the musculoskeletal mechanics lab at Worcester Polytechnic Institute, Herron’s training philosophy reflected what she’d read in scientific journals and seen in the lab related to mechanical stress and bone adaptation. “To me, it really aligned well with a lot of the theory,” she says.

Bone is a dynamic tissue. It changes, adapts, and gets stronger in the same way that muscles do. And in order for them to get stronger, you have to load them.

Bones have a “set point”—akin to the thermostat in your house—for the optimal amount of mechanical stress it wants to experience. Depending on the amount and rate of force transmitted through the bone, bone cells respond by either adding or removing bone. Too much force and the cells build bone to temper the load. Too little force and the cells get rid of bone so that it can sense more load.

Scientists have long been interested in finding the sweet spot between the amount of physical activity that induces adaptation and strengthens bone and the amount that can lead to injury—a fine line that many runners are intimately familiar with. What they’ve found in studies with animals like mice and rats is that, after back-to-back loading cycles, bone cells start to ignore the mechanical stress and stop adapting. Troy says it’s like when you walk into a smelly room. “It smells pretty bad for 10 to 15 minutes, and then you adapt. If you stay in the room, it stops smelling,” she says.

However, just like your nose can become re-sensitized if you leave the smelly room, bone cells do too. Studies have found that bone cells start to pay attention to mechanical stress again after a four-to-eight-hour rest period. When you spread the load over multiple sessions rather than one sustained bout, you gain more bone. (Tendons and ligaments respond similarly.)

The evidence suggests that distance running has diminishing returns when it comes to bone health. Troy hypothesizes that bone may respond to the stress of running over the first half mile or so but then become desensitized to the monotonous, repetitive loading. “You’ll get muscle and cardiovascular adaptations, but your bones aren’t paying attention anymore,” Troy says. “You’re just adding miles and potentially accumulating damage, but you’re not going to add adaptive stimulus that will help the bone become stronger.”

There isn’t a lot of data in people, making Herron an interesting case study. “Humans are made to move frequently,” Herron says. “The body responds to change and dynamic stimuli, so you need to stress the body in different ways.” It’s an approach she believes can work for runners at all levels and distances.

Her training is peppered with frequent, shorter bouts of running. Most days, Herron will run 10 to 15 miles and then doubles back for six or seven miles after a four-to-eight-hour rest period. Over a two-week period, she completes four main workouts—short intervals like 400-meter repeats; long intervals like one-to-three-mile repeats; a progression run, usually incorporated into a long run; and a hill session where she stresses both the uphill and downhill components to load her body eccentrically.

In between workouts, she runs easy and incorporates strides and drills twice a week. She likes to race a marathon or 50K a couple of weeks before a big race as a way to practice her nutrition and stress her body “just enough.”

“You can’t just look at a singular long run or back-to-back long runs. You have to look at the whole picture. Every run is like bricks that add up over time,” she says. Over the years, Herron has played around with her training formula and has cut back on her long runs, emphasizing quality over quantity and running for time rather than just distance. “I’m totally fine doing two hours as my long run,” she says.

It makes sense that Herron’s training is steeped in science. She was pre-med at the University of Tulsa before turning her focus to scientific research, studying the impact of strength training on bone and muscle. In graduate school at Oregon State, she investigated the relationship between mechanical stress and bone recovery for her master’s thesis. By studying bones, maybe she hoped to understand why she experienced multiple stress fractures in high school and college. What she learned shaped how she trains.

But she didn’t put the theory into practice right away. Early in her marathon career, she was still doing long runs up to 26 miles. It wasn’t until she started training at altitude that she began to split up her runs. Her coach (and husband) Conor Holt thought it would help her acclimate to the altitude, but she says, “It was like a rocket to the moon.” She recovered better and felt more spark in her legs.

Sabrina Little, ultrarunner and five-time U.S. National Champion, has also seen the benefits of this style of training. In college, she used to log big miles, a 30-mile run before doubling back for another 20 miles the next day. But once she graduated, she no longer had the luxury of dedicating endless hours to training. She expected to be less prepared for races but a funny thing happened—she performed better. It turns out that running multiple times a day may have other performance-boosting effects too.

“When I set the American record in the 24-hour run, my longest run was maybe 16 or 17 miles,” Little says. She would train in the morning and then come back for a faster session in the afternoon. “Breaking things into shorter blocks was beneficial. I was able to do higher integrity work instead of just long, slow distance,” she says. She thinks it helped her body absorb her training.

Now, as a parent to two young kids, Little definitely doesn’t have long blocks of time, so she practices what she calls “prepositional running”—before things, between things, and after things.

However, both Herron and Little logged many miles before happening upon their current training strategy. “I don’t want to say big days aren’t needed, but it’s hard to say what role they play,” Little says. “There’s a way in which the big races are kind of grandfathered into your legs, like you’re never too far away from your last 50-miler.”

While Herron and Little’s training mirrors research findings, it can’t be considered in isolation.

There are other factors that influence bone health and adaptation aside from mechanical loading—genetics, nutrition, running gait, and how much bone you laid down during your peak bone-building years. Hormonal health matters, too, because bone cells have sex hormone receptors. If your hormone levels are low, Troy says it tips the balance toward bone removal, leaving the tissue more vulnerable to injury.

Whether or not eschewing long, sustained bouts of running is the key to success and injury prevention, there are benefits to fostering the idea that not everyone needs big days on the road or trails.

“Most people have responsibilities and can’t spend all that time outside,” says Little. “People should know there are other possibilities. It could get a broader scope of people participating.”

Long before he became the fastest man in history, before the Olympic gold medals, world records, and global superstardom, Usain Bolt was simply a gifted teenager with extraordinary speed and limitless potential. In 2002, on the track at Kingston's National Stadium in Jamaica, the world witnessed the first chapter of a story that would forever change athletics.

At just 15 years old, Bolt lined up for the men's 200 metres at the World Junior Championships with the weight of expectation resting on young shoulders. Competing before a passionate home crowd, the Jamaican prodigy produced a performance that instantly captivated the athletics world. Crossing the finish line in 20.61 seconds, he became the youngest athlete ever to win the men's 200m title at the championships.

It was far more than a gold medal. It was the moment the world realised that a once-in-a-generation talent had arrived.

Bolt's victory in Kingston marked the beginning of one of the greatest careers in sporting history. Over the years that followed, he rewrote the record books, dominated the Olympic Games and World Championships, and transformed sprinting into a global spectacle through his breathtaking speed, infectious personality, and unrivalled confidence. His legacy continues to inspire young athletes across the globe, many of whom dream of following the same path he once began as a teenager.

This week, that dream comes alive once again as the World Athletics U20 Championships take centre stage at the iconic Hayward Field in Eugene, Oregon. The venue has already witnessed the birth of future superstars. In 2014, it was where Britain's Dina Asher-Smith and Uganda's Joshua Cheptegei captured their first global titles, launching careers that would later produce world championships, Olympic medals, and lasting legacies in athletics.

Twelve years later, another generation arrives in Eugene hoping to create its own defining moment.

Among the brightest young talents is Great Britain's Jake Odey-Jordan, the 200m bronze medallist from Lima who now owns the European U20 100m record after an astonishing 10.01-second performance. He enters the championships eager to build on his growing reputation as one of Europe's most exciting young sprinters.

The United States will look to Tate Taylor, who has already made history as the first American high school athlete to break the 20-second barrier for the 200 metres. Fresh from a Diamond League victory in a sensational 19.75 seconds, he arrives in Eugene carrying the momentum of one of the most remarkable junior seasons ever recorded.

Jamaica, the nation that introduced the world to Usain Bolt, will once again have high hopes through Shanoya Douglas. The talented sprinter has established herself as one of the championship's leading contenders after producing lifetime bests of 10.98 seconds for the 100m and 22.11 for the 200m this season.

History has repeatedly shown that the World U20 Championships are far more than a junior competition. They are often the first chapter in the careers of future Olympic champions, world record holders, and global icons. Every generation arrives with ambitious dreams, but only a select few leave having announced themselves to the world.

No one can say with certainty whether the next Usain Bolt will emerge this week. Greatness cannot be predicted, and legends are never manufactured. Yet every legendary career begins with a single breakthrough performance.

For Bolt, that defining moment came in Kingston in 2002.

Now, under the famous lights of Hayward Field, another group of gifted teenagers stands ready to chase history. Somewhere among them could be the next athlete whose name will inspire the world for years to come.

"An athlete cannot run with money in his pockets. He must run with hope in his heart and dreams in his head." More than seventy years after those words were spoken, they remain among the most powerful messages ever shared in distance running. They are often quoted as simple motivation, but behind them lies a remarkable story of sacrifice, courage, conviction, and an unwavering belief that true greatness is never measured by financial reward.

Few athletes have left a legacy as enduring as Emil Zátopek. Known around the world as "The Czech Locomotive" for his relentless determination and unmistakable running style, he redefined what was possible in endurance racing. His legendary performance at the 1952 Olympic Games in Helsinki still ranks among the greatest achievements in athletics history. In the space of just nine days, he captured Olympic gold in the 5,000 meters, the 10,000 meters, and, incredibly, the marathon—a race he had never attempted before.

Yet the world in which Zátopek competed was vastly different from today's professional athletics landscape. During the 1950s, elite sport officially operated under strict amateur rules. Olympic athletes were forbidden from accepting prize money or earning a living directly from competition, although unofficial financial arrangements existed in many sports. Zátopek himself never raced for appearance fees or lucrative prize purses. Instead, he served as an officer in the Czechoslovak People's Army, receiving a military salary while representing his country. Running brought him glory, but not personal wealth.

It was within that environment that his famous words carried genuine meaning. For Zátopek, success was never driven by the promise of money. He believed the greatest performances were fueled by hope, ambition, discipline, and the courage to pursue dreams that seemed impossible. Those qualities, rather than financial incentives, formed the foundation of lasting excellence.

With the benefit of history, his words carry even greater significance. In 1968, during the Prague Spring, Zátopek openly supported democratic reforms in Czechoslovakia. When the movement was crushed, he paid a heavy personal price for standing by his principles. He was stripped of his military rank, removed from public life, and forced into years of manual labor. The man who had once stood proudly atop the Olympic podium found himself performing physically demanding jobs, far removed from the stadiums where he had inspired millions.

His story reminds us that the values he expressed were not empty words crafted for public admiration. He lived by them, even when doing so came at enormous personal cost. His belief that hope and conviction mattered more than material rewards became evident not only in the races he won, but also in the hardships he endured with remarkable dignity.

Distance running has changed dramatically since Zátopek's era. Today's elite athletes compete in a fully professional sport where prize money, sponsorship contracts, appearance fees, and endorsement deals can be worth millions. Success on the track and roads now offers opportunities that were unimaginable during the age of amateur competition. Professionalism has transformed the sport, allowing athletes to train full-time, access world-class coaching and sports science, and build financially secure careers.

Yet despite these changes, the essence of Zátopek's message has never lost its relevance.

Every elite runner naturally hopes to earn a good living from years of dedication and sacrifice. There is nothing wrong with financial success, and the rewards available today have elevated the standard of competition across the world. But history consistently shows that money alone is rarely enough to sustain greatness. The athletes whose careers endure the longest are often those driven by an inner passion to improve, to test their limits, and to chase excellence for its own sake. Financial rewards become the result of that commitment, not the reason for it.

When competition is motivated solely by wealth, its deeper purpose can fade. But when an athlete races with genuine belief, relentless determination, and an unwavering dream, extraordinary performances often follow naturally.

That is why Emil Zátopek's words continue to resonate across generations. His legacy extends far beyond Olympic medals and world records. It lives in every runner who laces up their shoes with a goal that cannot be measured in dollars, every athlete who refuses to surrender when the race becomes painful, and every competitor who understands that the greatest victories begin long before the finish line.

The economics of distance running may have evolved beyond recognition, but the heart of the sport remains unchanged. Every athlete still arrives at the starting line carrying something far more valuable than money—hope in their heart and dreams in their head. Those invisible qualities have always been, and will always remain, the true fuel of greatness.

Winning a major championship is never just about crossing the finish line first. Behind every gold medal lies a carefully crafted race plan, and Josh Kerr's unforgettable Commonwealth Games triumph in Glasgow was a perfect example of tactical brilliance meeting extraordinary finishing speed.

While the final time of 3:54.12 for the mile will be remembered as the official result, the split times reveal a much deeper story—one of patience, precision, and devastating acceleration when it mattered most.

Kerr resisted any temptation to force the pace from the gun. Instead, he settled into a controlled rhythm, allowing the opening stages to unfold naturally. His first four 100-metre segments—14.9, 15.1, 15.3 and 15.1 seconds—brought him through 400 metres in 60.4 seconds, a measured opening that conserved valuable energy while keeping him firmly in contention.

The second lap remained equally composed. Passing 500 metres in 15.3 seconds before recording splits of 15.7, 16.2 and 15.4, Kerr reached 800 metres in 2:03.0. The pace had eased, but that was exactly where the Scottish star wanted to be. Rather than chasing early speed, he was setting the stage for a decisive finish.

Everything changed after halfway.

Kerr gradually increased the tempo with smooth, controlled acceleration. His 900-metre and 1,000-metre splits of 15.2 and 14.9 seconds signalled that the race was beginning to stretch. He then surged through 1,100 metres in 14.3 seconds before covering the next 100 metres in just 13.4 seconds to reach 1,200 metres in 3:00.8.

From there, the home crowd witnessed championship running at its finest.

Instead of fading, Kerr became even stronger. He reeled off three consecutive 100-metre splits of 13.4, 13.4 and 12.8 seconds, dismantling the field with every stride. His final 100 metres were covered in a stunning 12.5 seconds, sealing an emphatic victory and sending the Glasgow crowd into celebration.

The progression of his race was remarkable. After opening with relaxed 15-second splits, Kerr transformed the closing stages into a demonstration of world-class speed endurance. His ability to accelerate continuously over the final 600 metres highlighted not only exceptional fitness but also supreme confidence in his race plan.

Championship middle-distance racing is rarely about producing the fastest possible time from the start. More often, it rewards athletes who understand when to conserve energy and when to unleash everything they have left. Kerr executed that philosophy to perfection.

His split chart paints the picture of a runner who never panicked, never wasted effort, and saved his greatest weapon for the closing stages. It was a textbook display of patience followed by relentless aggression—a combination that turned a tactical race into a memorable Commonwealth gold medal performance.

For aspiring middle-distance runners, Kerr's Glasgow masterpiece offers an important lesson: the strongest finish often belongs not to the athlete who runs hardest from the gun, but to the one who knows exactly when to make their move. On home soil, Josh Kerr timed that move to perfection, producing a performance that will stand as one of the defining moments of the championships.

At just nine years old, Oliver Smith has achieved something extraordinary—not by chasing records or medals, but by proving that determination, compassion, and consistency can create a life-changing impact.

Hailing from Wombwell, on the outskirts of Barnsley, Oliver set himself a remarkable challenge at the beginning of the year. Rather than attempting a single marathon, he decided to complete the equivalent distance of nine marathons over several months. From January 1 to April 26, the young runner covered an incredible 380 kilometres, breaking the distance into manageable daily runs suitable for a child his age.

His routine was built on dedication. Saturdays were reserved for parkrun events, Sundays for junior parkrun, while the remaining kilometres were steadily accumulated throughout the week. Averaging approximately 3.3 kilometres each day, Oliver never lost sight of the goal that inspired every step.

The challenge carried deep personal meaning. Last summer, Oliver's father, Tom Smith, suffered a devastating health setback after losing most of the vision in one eye. Medical examinations revealed a 4-centimetre meningioma wrapped around his optic nerve, leading to a complex 12-hour operation at the Royal Hallamshire Hospital in Sheffield.

Throughout the family's difficult journey, The Brain Tumour Charity provided invaluable guidance, support, and reassurance. Grateful for the help his family received, Oliver decided he wanted to give back in the most meaningful way he could. He launched a fundraising campaign with an initial goal of raising £2,000 to support others facing similar challenges.

What followed exceeded everyone's expectations.

Oliver brought his incredible fundraising challenge to a memorable conclusion at the Mini London Marathon, finishing on the very same day his mother, Hannah Smith, completed her first-ever London Marathon. It was a fitting family celebration of courage, resilience, and perseverance.

By the time Oliver crossed the finish line, donations had soared beyond £16,500—more than eight times his original target. His remarkable achievement captured the hearts of supporters, demonstrating how one young boy's determination could unite an entire community behind an important cause.

For Oliver, however, the journey is far from over. Inspired by the overwhelming support and the difference his efforts have made, he has already begun working toward his next fundraising challenge.

His story serves as a powerful reminder that age is no barrier to making a meaningful difference. Sometimes, the greatest acts of courage are measured not by speed or distance, but by the willingness to take one small step after another for the benefit of others.

Oliver Smith's inspiring journey is more than a fundraising success—it is a testament to the strength of family, the power of kindness, and the extraordinary impact that can begin with the simplest decision to help.

Sometimes the smallest opportunity creates the greatest triumph, and Jamaica's Navasky Anderson proved exactly that with a stunning performance to capture the men's 800m title at the 2026 Commonwealth Games in Glasgow.

Less than 24 hours after scraping into the final by the slimmest of margins, Anderson produced the race of his life, surging to victory in 1:45.33 to complete one of the most remarkable comeback stories of the championships. His gold medal was not only a reward for exceptional talent but also for courage, determination, and unwavering belief when everything was on the line.

The journey to the top nearly ended in the semifinals. Locked in an intense battle with England's Max Burgin for the final qualification place, Anderson threw himself across the finish line in a dramatic dive, stopping the clock at 1:45.38. That desperate effort earned him the last available place in the final as the fastest non-automatic qualifier, keeping his Commonwealth dream alive by the narrowest of margins.

With another chance in his hands, the Jamaican made sure it counted.

In a fiercely contested final, Anderson displayed outstanding tactical awareness and patience throughout the opening stages before unleashing a devastating finishing kick down the home straight. His perfectly timed acceleration left the rest of the field with no answer as he crossed the finish line first, securing a memorable Commonwealth crown and one of Jamaica's standout victories of the Games.

Australia's Luke Boyes delivered an impressive performance to claim the silver medal in 1:45.93, while Kenya's Wyclife Kinyamal battled strongly to take bronze in 1:46.12 after another highly competitive championship race.

Anderson's unforgettable triumph will be remembered as one of the defining moments of Glasgow 2026—a powerful reminder that championships are not always won by the fastest qualifier, but often by the athlete who refuses to surrender. From a fearless dive that kept his hopes alive to a brilliant gold-medal performance less than a day later, the Jamaican wrote one of the most inspiring chapters of these Commonwealth Games.

Men's 800m Final Results

1. Navasky Anderson (Jamaica) — 1:45.33

2. Luke Boyes (Australia) — 1:45.93

3. Wyclife Kinyamal (Kenya) — 1:46.12

Navasky Anderson arrived in the final as the last man to qualify, but he left Glasgow as the Commonwealth champion—a remarkable transformation that perfectly captures the unpredictable beauty of championship athletics.