Fun Stuff from John "The Penguin" Bingham

Background | What's a Penguin? | John's Top 10 Training Tips

Background

John "The Penguin" Bingham, the co-founder of John Bingham Racing, is the most widely read author about running on the planet. John has been called the Pied Piper of the second running boom-and for good reason. Since his column, "The Chronicles", started in Runner's World magazine in May of 1996, John "The Penguin" Bingham has become the running community's most popular and recognized celebrity. Once a 240-pound smoking, drinking, couch potato, John has become the inspiration to legions of new walkers and runners of all ages.

His breakthrough first book The Courage to Start: A Guide to Running for Your Life was called a must read for all adult-onset athletes by the Wall Street Journal.

With the release of No Need for Speed: A Beginner's Guide to the Joy of Running in April 2002, John established himself as the definitive voice of the second running boom. The book was featured on the NBC Nightly News with Tom Brokaw.

In May of 2002, Runner's World magazine did a 5 page feature on John. They referred to him on the cover as "The New Prophet of Running". No Need for Speed was excerpted in the same issue.

In May 2003, Bingham's book Marathoning for Mortals: A Regular Person's Guide to the Joy of Running or Walking a Full or Half Marathon, co-authored by Coach Jenny Hadfield (a coach and director of training for John Bingham Racing) was published by Rodale Press. Through his books and his monthly Runners World column, Bingham has inspired a generation of new runners to find joy in walking, running, and racing.

With evangelical passion, Bingham travels nearly 300 days a year leading marathon pace groups, speaking to packed rooms of runners of all levels, and guiding an ever-growing number of fans.

John is an internationally recognized figure in the fitness community who brings regional and national exposure and interest to this annual event.

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What's a Penguin?

In the running lexicon, the word "Penguin" has come to mean a person who runs more for the joy of running than for recognition and public rewards. Some of us are perpetual Penguins. We are consumed by the pleasure of movement. Other Penguins find their joy in the challenge of reaching their own potential, whatever that is.

For some it has meant running the Boston Marathon, the only U.S. marathon that has qualifying standards. For others, it has meant finding an independence and freedom in their daily runs that expands their limits.

Can there be such a thing, then, as a Penguin athlete? Or an athletic Penguin? Can people who are fighting to lose thirty or forty pounds be athletes? Of course they can! Can people who have waited until their forties to become physically active be athletes? You bet. Can people who finish last in a race be athletes? Yes, they can. And yes, they are.

You might be a penguin if...

you have to politely (for the third time) tell the men in the police car moving behind you that No you do not wish a ride.
you wear your jog bra on top of your singlet. This is especially true if you are male.
during a race, you keep turning around to see if there is still anybody behind you.
the rest of the pack is out of sight before you've run 100 yards.
you meet both the hare AND the tortoise running back towards you doing their cool-down after a race.
the only reason you don't drop out of a race is that you're embarrassed that the police in the car behind you (closing the course) will see you.
as you're rounding the corner onto Main Street and the finish line, you overhear the announcer on a microphone to the crowd of 500 saying "we are ASSURED the young lady IS coming in!" (Oh well, at least I was young).
you recognize all the regular runners on your favorite route from behind.
you get passed on the uphill by a runner pushing a double baby jog stroller.
you shoot a 24-shot roll of film during a marathon.
you make arrangements for a late checkout at the hotel.
you are more worried about the porta-potty lines than the start line.
your support crew talks about meeting you for supper, not lunch
you have to memorize the route because you know that you will lose the back of the pack.
the truck picking up the cones is pressing on your behind. (Don't laugh—this actually happened to me!)
as you pass a course volunteer they ask you, "How many are behind you yet?" and you say "Behind me? Behind? Gosh ... I think two ... unless they turned around!"
the awards ceremony is over before you cross the finish line.

For more Penguin wit and wisdom, visit JohnBingham.com.

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John's Top 10 Training Tips

John offers his advice on training with his top 10 training tips. In no particular order:

Size matters, at least when in comes to shoes.

I'd worn size 8 1/2 shoes since I was 17 years old. So at age 42, when I went to buy my first pair of running shoes, I bought—you guessed it—size 8 1/2. I didn't even bother to try them on, I was so sure they would fit.
Clothes make the man.

I thought that I could just dig out some of my old T-shirts and sweatpants and start running. I thought that all the technical "stuff" that real runners wear was only for the fast runners. I was wrong.

The reason why those runners wear technical clothing is the same reason that I finally did. Performance. Fabrics that wick moisture are cooler in the summer and warmer in the winter. You don't have to carry the weight of your own perspiration on your favorite cotton T-shirt anymore.
Three steps forward, two steps back.

I thought that I would continue to get better and better. I thought my progress would be linear. For a while, it worked that way, although considering where I started that shouldn't be a surprise. For several months I got faster with nearly every run. Then the progress suddenly stopped. Long term improvement is a constant cycle of getting faster, hitting a plateau, slipping backwards, regrouping, and then getting faster again.
Talk is cheap

When I first started, I spent more time planning my runs than actually running. I also spent a lot of time talking about running, and not nearly enough time running.

I thought that knowing about running was the same as being able to run.

I thought that being able to using a phrase like anaerobic threshold in a sentence was as good as experiencing it. Once you start training more and talking less, your running improves.
Garbage in, garbage out.

I had no idea how food worked once it was inside my body. I understood how it made me feel when I ate it, but knew nothing about how food functions. I didn't understand the correlation between what I was asking my body to process and what I was asking my body to perform. As I began to view food as fuel rather than as comfort or recreation, I discovered that the foods I wanted and the foods I needed were almost always the same. That doesn't mean you can't give in to an occasional craving, but don't ignore the effect that food has on your performance.
Sometimes, less is more.

I never considered myself the sharpest knife in the drawer. I knew there were people smarter, better educated, and more talented that I in my profession. But I also knew that I had the capacity to outwork anybody I had ever met.

I took that attitude into my running. When I read that one day of speed work was good, I thought that 3 days would be better. If everyone else increased their mileage by 10% per week, then I'd increase mine by 20%.

Improvement comes at the point of balance between effort and recovery.
There are no secrets.

I was sure that there were hidden 'truths' about running that would make me faster sooner. I read everything I could find, trying to uncover those hidden truths. After a while I discovered that most of what I needed to learn I was going to have to find out on my own, with my own two feet.

Training for a long distance race is sometimes frustrating process of trial and error. If there are any secrets, you are going to have to find them on the roads, not in books.
My body, my self.

In the early stages I waited for the magic transformation of my body into the body of a runner. I expected my legs to get longer and leaner, my muscles to become tight and sinewy, and all my joints to work exactly like they were supposed to.

There may be less of it now, but it is still basically the same body I had when I started running. It turns out that you have to learn how to train with the body you have.
Being a runner is a process, not a destination.

I was convinced that I could get into shape and stay there. I thought that once I had achieved a certain speed or distance, I could relax and enjoy the view. But, there is always something new to learn, some new distance to try, or some new pace to struggle toward.

Running is a constant process of assessing and evaluating where you've been, where you are, and where you want to be.
Races are celebrations.

I've always been a big motorsports fan. I've attended hundreds of races. They were battlegrounds. But runners are different.

Once I overcame my fear, I raced nearly every weekend. I couldn't wait to line up with friends and find out what their best was on that day, and to show them MY best at the same time.

Despite the competition between individuals, there is still an overwhelming sense of shared achievement at races.