This column written by Simon Gear first appeared in Runners World in the Sep 2011 issue
In World War 2, fewer than 20% of combatants ever fired their weapons. That’s not including the guys drafted in to peel potatoes and polish Spitfire windscreens. That number refers to the guys who were there, on the battlefield, with a gun in their hands and bullets whizzing past their ears. This somewhat astonishing piece of research was published by an American military historian who revelled in the name of Brigadier General Samuel Lyman Atwood Marshall, or SLAM to the acronym-loving modern American army, for whom his research is now compulsory reading in officer cadet training.
Subsequent studies from Waterloo, the American Civil War, World War One and Korea have supported old man SLAM’s findings, showing that, but for a small, likely psychotic minority, men in combat are loathe to kill. This is great news for anyone who may have lost a little faith in humanity over the last few centuries. As individuals, we may dislike the idea of slaughtering each other but as a collective species we seem all for it. And this is, unfortunately, what military commanders have also figured out. A whole range of factors have been found to increase the firing rate of a platoon, from racist propaganda to intimidating leadership but by far the most powerful incentive seems to be peer pressure.
Soldiers in tight-knit, cohesive groups can be relied upon to fire on the enemy. Soldiers on their own, or with comrades that they don’t know, almost never do. A central factor in the effectiveness of elite troops is the amount of time they spend together in training. We’re not alone in this, either. Almost all social animals are substantially braver and more aggressive to threats in close-knit groups. And this is most true of our closest relatives, the apes.
It’s not a stretch to point out that the same is true of runners. We all know that half the battle of getting up in the morning is won if you know that you’ll be letting a mate down by not getting going. And once you’re up, the company and companionship makes the miles fly by. And the longer I’ve known a group of running mates for, the easier running is when I’m with them.
But even ad hoc groups seem to make a difference. This year Comrades boasted five different 11-hour buses. My views on these big groups range from irritated loathing to grudging respect but you can’t get away from the fact that if you are uncertain of your mental fortitude in a big race, burying yourself in a bus and allowing the herd instinct to take you away makes a huge difference.
I’ve wrestled with what is actually going on in running groups for a long time and yet I am no closer to explaining the almost mystical improvement in my running when I have someone to share it with. And the effect is profound. On a Wednesday morning, I run a couple of kays to a group meeting place, we run around ten kays together and then I split off and jog home. The kays that I run alone, before and after meeting the group are the hardest of the route.
We are pack animals and when we do the things that are most closely linked to our ancestors: eating, hunting, defending our territories, it is the group that gives us the strength and the fortitude to keep going. And running goes right back to those early days of pursuit across the savannah.
We are built to run and our species brain cries out to us when we do. The next time you’re out at a race or a timetrial, enjoy the security and comfort of being tucked into a fast moving pack. Your ancient brain knows, it is what we do best.