Why do we run anticlockwise?

In writing this title, I realized that it may become unintelligible to future generations. As digital clocks replace analog ones, we may need a better term altogether. Mathematics, of course, does not depend on clocks to define the direction around a circle; what we call anticlockwise is simply the positive direction. 

What spurred this post was an article I came across in which one of the co-authors was K. Nishinari. I have known Nishinari-san for many years. I have visited and lectured in his laboratory at the University of Tokyo, and we even once planned a collaboration (which, unfortunately, never materialized). He describes himself as a “jamologist,” a specialist in “jams” — traffic jams, but not only. I still remember one of his seminars, in which he explained how to avoid jams in inkjet printers. I had to follow the seminar in Japanese, a language I do not speak, yet I managed to understand the topic thanks to Nishinari-san’s excellent presentation.

This time, the question was whether there is a left-right symmetry breaking when we move in crowds. In other words, do we tend to favor clockwise or anticlockwise turns? (Perhaps I should point out to my American readers that what I call anticlockwise is what they would call counterclockwise). The article, based on a Spanish-Japanese collaboration, was published in Nature Communications. The authors found that an anticlockwise bias in roaming pedestrians is a robust and reproducible feature. It is independent of crowd size, boundary effects, laterality traits (handedness, footedness, or eye dominance), and social norms. (Admittedly, the study participants were children and young adults, which raises the question of what would happen in the case of individuals with functional limitations). More importantly, the authors showed that the anticlockwise preference originates in individual locomotor tendencies rather than in collective interactions. (This runs counter to the common belief that group-level behaviours are more than the sum of individual behaviours).

The authors do not offer an explanation for this phenomenon, but they do mention some preliminary studies of blindfolded walking, which resulted in a circular motion in one direction “due to accumulating drift in their subjective straight-ahead, possibly linked to vestibular noise”. I will not delve further into this excellent article from the Spain-Japan collaboration. If you are interested, you can find it here.

Back to the anticlockwise preference. If you are, like myself, a swimmer who has to share a training lane with more than one other swimmer, thereby requiring everyone to adopt a circulation that keeps the dividing line always on the same side of the body, it seems natural that the resulting circular motion should be anticlockwise. I cannot claim that this is a spontaneous choice: it may well be a learned behaviour. Still, I have never seen anyone turn clockwise in a swimming lane.

But let us start at the beginning. As always, we have no technical details concerning ancient Athletics. The Ancient Olympics began with the στάδιον (stadion), a run from one end of the stadium to the other. Soon, the δίαυλος (diaulos) was introduced, in which one had to run to the end of the stadium and back. Unfortunately, nothing is known about how the athletes made their turn. On the other hand, literature does exist concerning ancient chariot and horse races, and there it is clear that in the ancient Hippodrome the races proceeded anticlockwise. (I once read a curious story according to which, during Roman times, chariot races in the Circus Maximus were initially run clockwise and later changed by an edict of Nero, after he was struck by the whip of a charioteer. But I would not attach much credibility to that account).

The ancient Greek tradition did not survive into the revival of modern sport. When athletics re-emerged in the nineteenth century, clockwise running was still common, and Oxford and Cambridge are reported to have practiced it well into the twentieth century (which is hard to reconcile with the fact that the direction became standardized soon after the London Olympics of 1908). At the first modern Olympic Games in Athens in 1896, track races were run clockwise; the same was true in Paris in 1900 and St. Louis in 1904. A short video from the 1906 Athens Olympics survives, but it shows only the 110 m hurdles; even so, the layout of the track and the direction of the race suggest that clockwise running was still in place at that time. By then, however, several countries had already adopted the anticlockwise convention, and complaints were being voiced. In London, athletes therefore ran with 'the left hand inside', and some sources even mention an IOC decision in 1913 to formalize anticlockwise running. That attribution is somewhat puzzling, since the International Amateur Athletic Federation had already been founded in 1912 and was the body normally responsible for technical matters. In any case, anticlockwise track running has now been the standard for more than a century, and it is unlikely to change anytime soon. And the article by Nishinari et al. provides a scientific rationale for a convention that may once have seemed purely arbitrary.

A great long jump competition in Monaco

This year’s Diamond League season has marked the return of Miltiadis Tentoglou to the top of the men’s long jump hierarchy. His sixth-place finish at the World Indoor Championships in March had raised legitimate doubts: would 2026 extend the disappointing trajectory of 2025? That concern was not unfounded. The 2025 season had indeed been a poor one by his standards. It began with a fifth-place finish at the World Indoors and, despite a world-leading 8.46 m at the European Athletics Team Championships, the rest of the season steadily deteriorated, culminating in sixth place at the Diamond League Final and a disappointing eleventh at the World Championships. The contrast with 2026 could hardly be sharper. Tentoglou opened with 8.46 m in Xiamen, followed by 8.49 m in Cyprus, another world-leading mark at the time (later surpassed by Simon Ehammer’s remarkable 8.51 m in his decathlon world best at Götzis). A sequence of high-level performances followed, including a wind-assisted 8.54 m in June.

Then came Monaco.

Tentoglou produced a performance that reasserted his dominance unequivocally. He opened with 8.44 m, already sufficient for victory, followed with 8.52 m and 8.49 m, and concluded with a final-round leap of 8.61 m, a meeting record, surpassing Iván Pedroso’s longstanding mark, and improving his own world lead.

The competition itself reached an extraordinary level of depth. All eight athletes exceeded 8 metres, including Mattia Furlani on his return from injury. More strikingly, this was the first recorded competition in which five athletes surpassed 8.30 m.

This naturally raised a historical question: how often have all eight finalists in a major competition exceeded 8 metres?

The most immediate example is the Paris 2024 Olympic final. Tentoglou won with 8.48 m, ahead of Wayne Pinnock (8.36 m) and Mattia Furlani (8.34 m), with Ehammer fourth at 8.20 m, all four present again in Monaco. The eighth-place finisher, Jianan Wang, recorded 8.03 m. The same benchmark had been reached in earlier Olympic finals: in Rio 2016, K. Gomis placed eighth with 8.05 m, and in Sydney 2000,  the eighth-place mark was exactly 8.00 m. Turning to the World Championships, one might expect the iconic 1991 Tokyo final, defined by the Powell–Lewis duel, to qualify. Surprisingly, it does not: the eighth-place mark there was 7.99 m. Instead, the deepest competition appears to be the 1987 World Championships in Rome, where no fewer than twelve athletes exceeded 8 metres. King Carl won with a championship record of 8.67 m (a record that would not survive the following championships), while eighth place required 8.10 m and twelfth exactly 8.00 m.

Yet this competition is remembered less for its depth than for the controversy that unfolded in its final moments. Lewis had led from the outset with 8.67 m, with Robert Emmiyan second at 8.53 m. Larry Myricks held third with 8.33 m after five rounds, while Giovanni Evangelisti was fourth with 8.19 m. Then, in the final round, Evangelisti was credited with 8.38 m, moving him into the bronze medal position.

The result was immediately met with disbelief. Evangelisti was a top-class athlete, he had jumped 8.43 m earlier that season and had been Olympic bronze medallist in 1984, but analysis of the available video footage suggests that his final jump was not even beyond 8 metres, with estimates placing it closer to 7.90 m. Myricks was unable to respond. Subsequent analysis from the Sports Institute in Köln even suggested that the final jumps of both Myricks and Jefferson may have been longer than officially recorded.

Protests followed, and investigations were conducted. The IAAF maintained that all measurements were correct, stating that “it is not possible to consider the hypothesis of different measurements, carried out at a later date, as integral to or substitute for the official measuring process”.

However, the matter did not end there. Sandro Donati, then a coach with the Italian national team, filed a police report alleging that officials from the Italian federation (FIDAL) had arranged for Evangelisti to secure a medal. According to Donati, immediately before the final round the two British technicians responsible for the electronic measuring system were reassigned to the pole vault, and the system was disconnected. All final-round jumps were then measured manually, with only Italian officials present. An inquiry by the Italian Olympic Committee (CONI) ultimately supported Donati’s claims. Eight FIDAL officials were implicated, including the federation’s general secretary, a close associate of IAAF president Primo Nebiolo. Evangelisti’s mark was annulled, and Myricks was reinstated as bronze medallist. Donati, however, paid a professional price, losing his coaching position after bringing the matter to light.

I have previously written about the disgraceful conduct of Soviet officials during the triple jump at the 1980 Olympic Games. The events in Rome in 1987 suggest that such practices were not an isolated phenomenon. On the contrary, the actions of FIDAL officials show that this readiness to subvert competition extended well beyond the Soviet sphere.

Once again, I find myself writing about Athletics Podium

This is not the first time I have highlighted this excellent site. I first introduced it in 2022, and returned to it in 2023 following their article on the African Games. Earlier this year, I discussed their “best of the best of 2025” list—an original and refreshing approach that did not follow the usual World Athletics classification of track, field, and out-of-stadium events, nor my own method of listing the ten best athletes of each sex.

I had been planning yet another article simply encouraging regular visits to this remarkable site—one that, among my recommendations, is second only to the unique Décapassion, which speaks not only to my intellect but also to my heart, and which is curated by the Goussets, who over the years have become close friends.

In my article on the Balkan Games, I mentioned the excellent statistical booklet Athletics Podium prepared for the 2024 Balkaniad. This time, I intended to present their newly published first volume of African Athletics, authored by S. Erbay, the editor-in-chief of Athletics Podium. It is an impressive compilation of the top ten performances in every discipline over more than half a century, from 1970 to 2025. This first volume covers men’s events; it is reasonable to expect that a second volume devoted to women’s results will follow.

However, I kept postponing writing this piece—until a recent publication finally prompted me into action. The article announced the Pan American Athletics Championships, held at the end of June in Medellín, Colombia. As an athletics enthusiast, I naturally follow the websites of World Athletics and European Athletics on a daily basis. The situation is more complex when it comes to the Americas. There is no single continental federation comparable to European Athletics. Instead, countries are divided between NACAC (North American, Central American and Caribbean Athletics Association) and Atletismo Sudamericano (the South American confederation). Their websites do not offer the same level of regular updates, and as a result I tend not to follow American regional competitions closely, knowing mainly those athletes who appear frequently on the global circuit. (On the other hand, Panamerican Sports is a well organised multisports organisation, with an active web site, where Athletics hold a place of honour).

I was particularly impressed that Athletics Podium provided timely and detailed coverage of these championships, offering a valuable and focused perspective. After the competition, they published a thorough review of what appears to have been the inaugural edition of these championships. I will not go into details about the event here. If you are interested—and you should be—I encourage you to visit Athletics Podium and read their coverage. While there, take the time to explore their other articles; I am confident you will quickly become a regular reader.

PS. If you wish to keep up with results such as those from Medellín, there is an excellent solution: subscribe to C. Baronet’s newsletter. It is free, and each week you receive a compilation of athletics results from around the world. The Panamerican championships, for example, were included in the fourth issue of the June newsletter. A glance through the results reveals occasional appearances by U.S. athletes—unsurprising, as the United States is a member of NACAC and eligible to compete. They typically send a B- or even C-level team. In Medellín managed to secure a few medals, albeit none of them gold.

The First Call for the Revival of the Olympics (part 2 of "the real story of the Olympics")

In 393 AD, Emperor Theodosius I issued an edict putting an end to pagan festivals. As a consequence, the Olympics, dedicated to Zeus and intertwined with sacrificial rites and festivities, could no longer be held. Modern archaeological evidence suggests that the Games may have lingered into the 5th century, yet they were already in decline, and Theodosius’ decree merely drove another nail into their coffin.

The ancient Greek ideal of the body could not survive within a Christian empire. Christianity focused on the salvation of the soul, often to the neglect of the body, and anything associated with physical display or competition was viewed with suspicion. As a result, athletic pursuits faded through the Middle Ages. Although the Renaissance revived an appreciation for the human body and its beauty, it took time before sport regained social acceptance and began to develop again.

The Byzantine Empire rose and fell, its capital, Constantinople, ultimately falling to the Ottomans in 1453. The Ottoman Empire, which encompassed all of Greece, rose in power but was already in decline by the 19th century. In 1821, a revolution succeeded in liberating part of Greece from the Ottoman rule, giving birth to the modern Greek state. (The term 'modern' is used here merely to distinguish it from ancient Greece). Internal strife—long a national spécialité—led European powers to conclude that the Greeks were incapable of self-government. Consequently, they imported a Bavarian prince, Otto, to serve as the first king of Greece. During this period, poets and writers sought to inspire the population with renewed self-confidence by invoking the nation’s glorious classical past.

It was in this spirit that, in 1833, Panagiotis Soutsos, a Constantinople-born poet, politician, and journalist, published his poem Νεκρικός Διάλογος (Dialogue of the Dead).

In his poem, Soutsos presents the ghost of Plato addressing the modern Greeks, particularly the ministers of the throne, urging them to renounce their internal quarrels and divisions.

…Wretched people, think what your Greece once was!

Can you tell me, where are your ancient centuries?

Where are your beautiful Olympic contests?

Where are your Panathenaea?

Your great ceremonies, your great theatres?…  

This work was the first reference for the revival of the ancient Olympic Games, as part of the revival of the ancient Greek tradition.

Panagiotis Soutsos did not content himself merely with a poetic expression but took active steps toward the realization of these ideas. In 1834, he had the opportunity to promote his proposals in the form of a memorandum to the Minister of the Interior, Ioannis Kolettis, who, in turn, presented them to King Otto as his own. In the proposal he suggested that March 25th, the anniversary of the outbreak of the Greek war of independence, should be declared a national holiday and included thoughts on organizing grand festivals modeled on the Panhellenic Games of antiquity (the Olympic Games, the Isthmian, the Pythian, and the Nemean). The concluding lines of the memorandum referred to the splendour of the ancient Greek contests and to the essential reasons for their revival. The idea of marking March 25 as national holiday was approved, but the Olympic revival plans stalemated.

The memo failed to revive the Games. Yet it may have inspired a law passed in 1837 under King Otto, which called for a national festival featuring competitions in three categories: agriculture, industry, and the athletic games of ancient Greece: “discus, javelin, long jump, footraces, wrestling, and chariot racing” (though notably without the term 'Olympic'). Otto’s national festival, however, was never realized. On March 25, 1838, the inhabitants of the village Ag. Ioannis (ancient Letrina) near ancient Olympia, proposed to revive the Olympic Games on that very site. They envisioned holding the celebration every four years on March 25. This proposal, too, came to nothing. Seven years later, in 1845, Panagiotis Soutsos once again advocated for the Olympic revival in a public speech, but still without success.

The ideas of Soutsos would inspire both the people and later advocates of the revival. Dimitrios Vikelas characteristically notes that the notebooks containing Soutsos’s verses circulated from hand to hand and had a great influence on public opinion. 

The most direct recipient and continuer of Soutsos’s efforts, however, would be Evangelis Zappas. But this will be the subject of the next post.

Women shot-putters and the de facto world record

When Jessica Schilder threw a world-leading 21.09 m in May, I realized that it had been 15 years since a woman had gone beyond 21 m—the 21.24 m achieved by Valerie Adams in 2011. This brought to mind an article from last year’s Track & Field News, which discussed Chase Jackson’s preparation for the World Championships, where she was aiming for a third title (a goal she ultimately missed, with Schilder taking gold and Jackson silver).

One particularly striking detail in that article was the mention that, one day before the USATF Championships, Jackson threw 21.24 m in training. Upon measuring the throw, her husband remarked that she had just equalled the world record. The following day, Jackson threw 20.95 m—still her official personal best to date.

This naturally raises a question: is it reasonable to regard Adams’s 21.24 m as the de facto world record? The official mark, of course, remains Natalia Lisovskaya’s 22.63 m from 1987. (Lisovskaya later married Yuriy Sedykh and, after the fall of the USSR, they emigrated to France, where both continued to compete around 2000—at levels far removed from their earlier performances. Their daughter would go on to represent France in the hammer throw, becoming Youth Olympic champion and surpassing 70 m).

Natalia Lisovskaya

Much has been written about that era. However, so much has changed since the 1980s that any meaningful assessment of current performances requires a more recent frame of reference. I therefore chose to examine results since 2000. The choice is admittedly arbitrary, but a quarter-century provides a reasonable window.

I began by compiling all throws over 20 m since 2000. There are 23 such performances (out of 87 all-time). The first entry on that list, ranked 17th all-time, is Larisa Peleshenko’s 21.46 m from 2000. She had returned from a four-year doping ban, which had already cost her a 1995 World Indoor title, so it is reasonable to set her mark aside. Valerie Adams follows, ranked 23rd all-time with her 21.24 m. In that context, treating her performance as a de facto world record appears entirely justified.

Once one adopts this perspective, the exercise becomes quite instructive. The next post-2000 20 m performer is Nadezhda Ostapchuk, with 21.09 m from 2005. However, all her results from 2005 onward were annulled due to doping violations, leaving her with the unusual distinction of a lone major medal—a silver from the 2003 World Championships. Removing her from consideration places Schilder just behind Adams and just ahead of Jackson.

Next comes Christina Schwanitz, the 2015 world champion, with 20.77 m. Michele Carter’s 20.63 m is bracketed by performances from Natalya Mikhnevich—European champion in 2006, later stripped of her 2008 Olympic silver—and Yanina Korolchik-Pravalinskaya, the 2000 Olympic champion, who was later banned and missed the 2004 Games. Altogether, 6 of the 23 athletes in this post-2000 list have doping violations associated with their careers.

Extending the analysis further, we find 15 women who have thrown beyond 20 m since 2010, and 10 since 2020. A glance at the names shows that nearly all are still active, with the possible exception of Gong Lijiao (the Tokyo Olympic champion, who announced her retirement at the end of 2025 at the age of 36—after an extraordinary 15-year span of 20 m performances: 2009–2024). The current depth at the top end is a clear indication that the discipline is thriving.

And one cannot but remember the ignominious remarks of A. Brundage (who has been honoured by an eminent place in my Gallery of Shame), who wrote:

"I think it is quite well known that I am lukewarm on most of the events for women for a number of reasons which I will not bother to expound because I probably will be outvoted anyway. I think women's event should be confined to those appropriate for women; swimming, tennis, figure skating and fencing but certainly not shot putting".

History has provided its own rebuttal. Women’s shot put is not only alive but flourishing. And while physiques vary, many of today’s top athletes are powerful without fitting outdated or simplistic stereotypes.

This brings us to a more serious issue raised by the notion of a de facto world record: how long can World Athletics continue to ignore the growing disconnect between historical records and modern reality? Adams is nearly one and a half metres behind Lisovskaya. Valarie Allman-Sion, with her 73.10 m performance (obtained in the discus-throwers paradise of Ramona), remains close to four metres short of Gabriele Reinsch’s 76.80 m world record (set in Neubrandenburg, reputed to be the Ramona of East Germany). There is no way un-enhanced women could have established those records, and there is equally no way today’s champions could approach them.

So either WA maintains records that function less as sporting standards than as historical artefacts or takes the bull by the horns. But past experience suggests that such courage is unlikely to materialise. 

A great article in the Deca Passion blog

It has been quite some time that my friends Frédéric and Pierre Gousset had not published a long article in their WordPress blog. (Of course, the fact that Pierre was defending his PhD earlier this Spring and is now preparing for a post-doc abroad is reason enough). Well, the dry spell has ended with an excellent review of the Götzis Hypomeeting, by Frédéric Gousset who attended the meeting. 

I will not summarise the article: you should read it. Don't worry about that fact that it is written in french. Google translation now-a-days is excellent. (Believe me! I checked). You may have already seen reports on the out-of-this-world performance of Ehammer: with 8.51 m he established a new decathlon long jump record and won the event with a 8778 personal best. O. Neugebauer again lost the victory due to a not up to his standards discus throw of 50.77 m (finishing 48 points behind Ehammer) while N. Kaul secured third place thanks to a great 78.21 m throw in the javelin. 

So, go and read the article in Deca Passion.

PS. While there has been a lull of activity as far as the blog is concerned, the Facebook Décapassion page is active and keeping abreast of events. While reading the combined event news there, I happened upon the announcement of the Master Women's Decathlon to be held at the end of the month in Châteauroux. (It is organised by the French Commission for Masters Athletics but it is an open competition). Unfortunately somebody trusted an Artificial Intelligence program for the poster of the event.

And it is horrible! I don't think that there is any element that is correct in the picture. How could the organisers accept this monstrosity? I am not even sure that the bell-tower one can see in the background is a faithful representation of the Notre-Dame of Châteauroux (not to be confused with that of Paris).

The Enhanced fiasco

It began as a supposed revolution in sport—an enterprise not merely challenging the establishment but seeking to dismantle it altogether. Enhanced is built on a radical premise: that athletic competition should embrace medical science rather than prohibit it. When Aron D’Souza unveiled the Enhanced Games in 2023, the concept was deliberately provocative. Athletes would be allowed—indeed encouraged—to use performance-enhancing substances under medical supervision, with world records rewarded by prizes of up to $1 million.

What set Enhanced apart, at least rhetorically, was its financial model. Unlike the Olympics, it promised direct payment to athletes: appearance fees, prize money, and substantial rewards for record-breaking performances. Backed by a range of investors (in contrast to Michael Johnson’s ill-fated Grand Slam Track project, which collapsed under shaky financial assumptions), Enhanced also positioned itself as more than a sporting event. It aims to develop a consumer-facing line of products focused on health, longevity, and recovery—an attempt to anchor the project in a broader commercial ecosystem.

On paper, the vision has a certain appeal. Athletics without the IOC, without bans framed as “outdated,” without the moralising rhetoric around “natural” performance. Enhanced claims to prioritise transparency and medical oversight, reframing enhancement not as cheating but as controlled optimisation. The Games were intended not just as a competition, but as proof of concept: that sport could be reimagined as both scientifically honest and commercially viable. The implicit question was simple: what would human performance look like without imposed limits?

The answer, at least for now, is underwhelming.

The first Enhanced Games, held on May 24 in Las Vegas, fell far short of their grand claims. Instead of a cascade of world records, organisers produced a single headline result: Kristian Gkolomeev’s 20.81 in the 50m freestyle. Even that performance raised eyebrows. There were claims that the time appeared on the screen before the swimmer touched the wall, and in any case Gkolomeev wore a full-body suit—equipment banned in official competition. With those caveats, the legitimacy of the “record” is, at best, debatable.

The track events were even less convincing. Fred Kerley had publicly targeted Usain Bolt’s 9.58 world record in the 100m. His own personal best—9.76, set in 2022—suggested that such ambitions were optimistic even under ideal conditions. Currently serving a suspension for whereabouts violations, Kerley arrived in Las Vegas with bold claims but delivered a chaotic race marred by four false starts, ultimately winning in 9.97. That time would have placed him last in the 2024 Olympic final. The women’s race offered little improvement. Tristan Evelyn claimed victory in 11.25, well short of her 11.14 personal best. It should, however, be said in defence of both Kerley and Evelyn that they chose to compete without performance-enhancing substances. In an event explicitly designed to reward pharmacologically assisted performance, they ran clean—and still won their races, each earning $250,000 in the process.

As for the athletes who did follow enhancement protocols, the organisers provided only aggregate data. They reported that 91% used testosterone, 79% human growth hormone, and 29% anabolic steroids over a nine-week period, alongside other substances such as stimulants and erythropoietin. Some older competitors reportedly outperformed their younger selves, with 21 personal bests recorded across 13 athletes. Yet these gains failed to translate into performances that challenged the global elite.

This leaves a striking disconnect. On one side, the promotional rhetoric of Enhanced.com promises

“the future of sport—where science, athleticism, and progress inspire superhuman achievement”. 

On the other, critics, such as Travis Tygart (head of USADA, who tried to cover the E. Knighton scandal), have been far more direct:

“While those behind the Enhanced Games might be looking to make a quick buck, that profit would come at the expense of kids across the world thinking they need to dope to chase their dreams. We desperately wish this investment was being made in the athletes who are currently training and competing the real and safe way. They are the role models this world so desperately needs and they are the ones who deserve our support—not some dangerous clown show that puts profit over principle”.

If anything, the inaugural Enhanced Games delivered a simpler lesson than either side anticipated. Pharmaceutical assistance did not redefine the limits of performance, nor did it overturn the existing hierarchy. And perhaps most tellingly, two of the event’s winners proved that even in a competition built around enhancement, it was still possible to prevail without it.

Before the modern, the ancient Olympics (part 1 of "the real story of the Olympics")

The genesis of the ancient Olympics is lost in the mists of time. Pindar, writing whole centuries after the beginning of the Olympics, mentions two myths and they cannot both be true. The best known one involves the demigod Herakles, son of the god Zeus (whom the Greek were also calling Dias and whom the Romans called Jupiter) and Alkmene, who among his labours had to clean the stables of king Augean. Augean reneged on the payment and so Herakles defeated him, slayed him and his sons (except one), confiscated the royal treasures, and dedicated them to fund an eternal Olympic festival in Zeus's honour at Olympia.

The other one involves Pelops. I cannot resist the temptation to tell the whole story. It is a perfect example of nice story-telling in Greek mythology. Oenomaus, the king of Pisa, had a daughter named Hippodamia, and according to an oracle, the king would be killed by her husband. Therefore, he decreed that any young man who wanted to marry his daughter was required to drive away with her in his chariot, and Oenomaus would follow in another chariot, and spear the suitor if he caught up with them. Now, the king's chariot horses were a present from the god Poseidon and therefore supernaturally fast. The king's daughter fell in love with a man called Pelops. Before the race, Pelops persuaded Oenomaus' charioteer, Myrtilus, to replace the bronze axle pins of the king's chariot with wax ones. Naturally, during the race, the wax melted and the king fell from his chariot and was killed. After his victory, Pelops organised chariot races as a thanksgiving to the gods and as funeral games in honour of King Oenomaus, in order to be purified of his death. It was from this funeral race held at Olympia that the beginnings of the Olympics were inspired. Pelops became a great king and he gave his name to the Peloponnesus.

However there is a third, more ancient, myth involving again an Herakles. This one was a  Cretan hero, known as the Idaian Herakles, and four of his brothers, Aeonius, Epimedes, Iasius and Idas. They went to Olympia where Cronus had hidden the newborn Zeus. They organised a race (perhaps to entertain the infant) and the victor was crowned with an olive wreath. The four-year Olympic cycle, who was in fact a five-year one (πενθετηρίς) with the first and last year included, is supposed to honour the five brothers. 

Be that as it may, the ancient Olympics were linked to the worship of Zeus. The gold-and-ivory Statue of Zeus (one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World) was located inside the Temple of Zeus in the sacred precinct of Olympia. A temple of Hera (Zeus' wife) did also exist, and in fact its construction predated that of Zeus' temple. Let's not forget that Herakles' name means "glory of Hera" and it was probably chosen so as to appease her, since Herakles was the fruit of an adulterous affair of Hera's husband.

Olympia around the first century of modern era

I am not going to give details on the ancient Olympics. They can be found on the web and if you are interested you can look them up. The aim of this article is to show how the ancient Olympics did not resemble the modern ones. The birth of the modern olympic movement took place in the middle of the Victorian era and, as was unavoidable, it was burdened by that epoch's ideologies. And the latter had nothing to do with the ancient Greek ideals. 

So, let us start at the beginning. First the ridiculous name: Olympic Games. There was nothing "gaming" in the ancient Olympics. They were called Olympic Contests (Αγώνες), and they are still referred to by this name in modern Greek. This is essential. The ancient Olympics, and in fact the whole ancient Greek society, were permeated by the spirit of competition. Only the victory counted. Why do you think there were no second and third prizes? It was not important just to participate as the Baron would like us think. And the word athlete comes from άθλος, a feat, an achievement, something that deserves a prize (έπαθλον).

Ι have already written about the amateurism misconception. Certainly the athletes in the Olympics competed for symbolic prizes like the olive wreath. However, back home, the winners were rewarded with substantial prizes, money, freedom from taxes, even lifetime pensions.

The ancient Olympics were not (until the Roman conquest of Greece) international. They were designed only for Greeks. 

There is absolutely no evidence of all the modern paraphernalia: olympic rings, torch relays, flags, hymns and anthems. 

The sacred fire in the sanctuary of Dias did not acquire a special significance during the Olympics, like the overhyped olympic flame. 

And although during the ancient Οlympics a truce between warring Greek cities made possible for athletes and spectators to attend the Olympics, this should not be misinterpreted as a philosophy of understanding and brotherhood, as the modern Olympic movement would like us think.

As Donald Kyle, author of the monograph "Sport and Spectacle in the Ancient World", points out: the modern Games have become more and more removed from the ancient.

The IOC has seen the light. Finally!

Everybody remembers the Olympic fiasco of 2024; you would have to be living in an alternate universe to have missed it. A boxer, previously barred from women's competitions due to eligibility concerns (translation in plain english: she is male) was nevertheless allowed by the IOC to participate in the female boxing tournament, terrorizing her adversaries and usurping the gold medal. I cannot imagine a more shameful moment for the IOC. People reacted, and the IOC understood that its well-oiled money-making machine might start having problems—especially as major international federations like World Athletics and World Aquatics had already begun introducing measures to protect women’s sport, and as the president of the US (where the next Olympics will be held) had signed an executive order titled “Keeping Men Out of Women’s Sports”. So the IOC caved in. The moment was opportune: the president who had overseen the Paris debacle was being replaced, and, what is more, by a woman. One of the first questions K. Coventry had to answer was how she intended to protect women’s sport. Now we have the answer.

On March 26, a new IOC policy was approved. Starting with the Los Angeles 2028 Olympic Games, eligibility for any female category in IOC events is limited to biological females, using a one-time SRY gene screen as the initial eligibility test. It is explicitly not retroactive and does not apply to recreational sport. It is a major shift because it creates a single IOC-level standard for female-category eligibility across Olympic sports, rather than leaving the issue entirely to each federation.

This is probably the most consequential decision taken by the new IOC president since her election last year. In a video message, she quipped:

We know this is a sensitive issue, but it would not be fair for biological males to compete in the female category. At the Olympic Games, even the smallest margins can be the difference between victory and defeat, so it’s absolutely clear that it would not be fair. In addition, in some sports it
would simply not be safe.

And, for the first time, the IOC recognises that there is a male performance advantage. Depending on the sport or event, there is a 10–12% male performance advantage in most running and swimming events, and an over 20% male performance advantage in most throwing and jumping events. The male performance advantage can be greater than 100% in events that involve explosive power, e.g. in collision, lifting, and punching sports.

In an article published in New Studies in Athletics, No. 29:4, 2014, pp. 37–48, co-authored with Y. Charon, we estimated the difference between male and female performances in Athletics. We found an advantage of around 10% in running and 15% in jumping. I addressed the question of throws in an article published in this blog:
I concluded there that, when it comes to throws, the male advantage is on the order of 30%.

Linda Blade, a former T&F champion and author of the book “Unsporting: How Trans Activism and Science Denial are Destroying Sport”, has compiled a list in which she not only gives estimates of the male advantage but also dismantles the usual arguments of trans apologists, one by one. I reproduce it below because it captures the reality of the situation more clearly—and more honestly—than any official statement.

How does eligibility work? The first-line criterion is SRY gene screening, which the IOC describes as a minimally invasive test using saliva, a cheek swab, or a blood sample. Athletes who test negative are deemed to satisfy the policy permanently, i.e. they are women (unless there is reason to doubt the result). Under the policy, athletes with an SRY-positive result are, in principle, excluded from the female category at IOC events, including transgender women and most XY differences (or disorders) of sex development. 

But there are exceptions. In an article I published last year, I discussed this point (if you are interested, I suggest you go back and read it to get the full picture). The IOC policy explicitly mentions Complete Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome (CAIS). In this condition, there is no testosterone-related performance advantage, which is why these athletes remain eligible for the female category.

However, as Ross Tucker has pointed out, this is not a trivial matter. Not all androgen insensitivities are complete: some individuals present partial insensitivity, and the key question is whether this confers any residual advantage. Tucker’s position is clear: if the IOC wants this policy to hold, it must rely on a “very robust, very transparent, very reliable, repeatable procedure.” And, in response to those who claim that the IOC is policing women’s bodies, he makes the obvious point: the aim is not to police bodies, but to define—and enforce—the boundary that makes women’s sport possible in the first place.

The IOC presents this policy as a way to protect fairness, safety, and integrity in elite women’s competition. It insists that the female category exists to preserve meaningful competition, where biological differences would otherwise erase equal opportunity. I would say that, at long last, the IOC has stopped pretending.

The centenary of Kinue Hitomi's book

I had not planned to write this article. My intention was to publish a piece on the IOC’s decision to introduce a femininity test. However, during my daily visit to the World Athletics website, I came across an article by none other than P.-J. Vazel. If you follow this blog, you know I am a longtime admirer of his work. His technical articles have been a major source of inspiration for me. Since becoming the curator of the World Athletics Heritage Museum, however, he has been less visible than before. Yet it was not his name that first caught my attention, but the article’s title, which mentioned the great Kinue Hitomi—likely for the first time ever on the World Athletics homepage.

I will not retell Hitomi-san’s story here. I covered it in detail in a previous article from my series “The Long and Arduous Road of Women to the Olympics,” published four years ago. I encourage you to read it, and while you are there, to explore the accompanying piece on the first women’s Olympic 800 meters. There is also a follow-up article, written just last year, which brings new elements to the discussion of that race, including references to a possible IOC effort to limit women’s events—or at least to curtail the women’s program—based on negative interpretations of the 1928 experience.

Kinue Hitomi (1907–1931) was a pioneering Japanese athlete who, after setting a national long jump record almost by chance at a school meet in 1923, devoted herself to track and field. She went on to establish world records across multiple events, including the long jump, triple jump, 100 m, 200 m, 400 m, and standing long jump, while also working as Japan’s first female sports journalist. She was named the outstanding athlete of the 1926 Women’s World Games in Göteborg. At the 1928 Amsterdam Olympics—after her preferred events were not included in the program and she was eliminated in the 100 m semifinals—she entered the 800 m on impulse, despite never having raced the distance, and won silver in 2:17.6, becoming the first Japanese woman to earn an Olympic medal. She was the inaugural world record holder in a combined event for women, the triathlon: 100m, high jump, javelin. Alas, she fell ill after the 1930 Prague Games and died of pneumonia the following year at just 24. In my view, she stands as the greatest athlete of that era, a time when women were fighting relentlessly for their right to compete. (Sadly, a century later, that struggle is not entirely over).

Vazel’s article is not about Hitomi-san herself, but about a book she wrote at just 19. Its title is 最新女子陸上競技法 (“The Latest Methods of Women’s Track and Field Athletics”). A digitized version is available from the National Diet Library of Japan, and, being a century old, it is now in the public domain. On the second page, one finds a photograph of Her Imperial Highness Princess Nobuko—the consort of Prince Asaka and daughter of Emperor Meiji—playing golf. The third page features a portrait of the young Hitomi-san (remember that the book predates her emergence as an international star), holding in her left hand a medal won at a national championship.

I will not attempt to summarize Vazel’s article, but rather highlight a few salient points that illustrate how remarkable Hitomi-san’s book is. First, she describes the use of starting blocks, even though their invention is usually attributed to G. Bresnahan, who filed a patent in 1927—one year after her book was published. Ironically, the IAAF (the predecessor of World Athletics) banned starting blocks in 1935 and only reauthorized them in 1938, and then with restrictions. More broadly, she outlines a comprehensive program for women’s athletics, rather than the limited version reluctantly accepted by the IOC. It is worth recalling that Hitomi herself was a triple jump champion, a discipline that did not enter the Olympic program until 1996. Her proposals were grounded in a clear conviction: that women deserved proper instruction, formal rules, sound technique, and serious study. She also documents four-week Olympic training schedules and meal plans from the 1924 Paris Olympic Village, focusing on Japanese male athletes. As Vazel points out, this is “pure gold” for sports historians, as it reminds us that many of the questions we consider cutting-edge today—nutrition, recovery, session management, and adaptation to international competition—were already being examined systematically a century ago.

It is remarkable that such a modest volume—just 134 pages, not 234 as Vazel suggests—can stand as one of the earliest and most forward-looking contributions to the scientific and methodological foundations of modern athletics: it as a testament to Hitomi’s extraordinary vision of what women’s sport could become.

World Relays in Gaborone

I hadn't followed last year's World Relays. And, to tell the truth, had I done so I would have been irritated at the timorous, fainthearted and borderline cowardly choice of World Athletics concerning the mixed 4x100 m race. Fortunately, somewhere along the line they saw the light and opted for the proper relay composition, the only one I find acceptable: man-woman-man-woman.

If you have been following my blog you certainly know that I have been proposing the 4x100 mixed relay for close to ten years. In Gaborone we saw the race run properly for the first time in a global setting. And it was absolutely great. As expected, the coaches found a solution to the problem of speed-difference between men and women. If you haven't followed the competition I invite you to watch the highlights at the World Athletics youtube channel. The women start running when the men are more than 10 meters behind them while the men start when the women are practically at their shoulders. And what is interesting is that men passing the baton can slow down (a luxury they do not have in an all-men race) and make the transfer smooth. Just watch the video below, taken during the qualifying heats. 

E. Adjibi is passing the baton to M-E. Leclair. When the later cannot grasp it firmly he takes her arm and practically puts the baton in her hand. 

It is moments like this that make the 4x100  mixed relay a great event. Fortunately it is here to stay. And watching the Jamaican team being head and shoulders above the competition was a real treat.

Don't let yourselves be fooled by the photo-finish

The real difference was considerably greater: Tia Clayton is at least 6 meters ahead of A. Leduc. And speaking of the Clayton twins, who both ran in the mixed relay, I find the choice to write Ti. Clayton on both their bibs laughable. How can you tell who is who? (Tina is on the left and Tia on the right).

The world record was broken twice: first in the heats with 39.99 and then in the final with 39.62. Just to put this in the proper perpective the first time the men's 4x100 m record dipped inder the latter mark was in 1960 when the German team won the olympic title in Rome with 39.5, electronically timed at 39.60 s. (Mind you, the US team who won in the Melbourne, 1956, Olympics, had also run in 39.5 and there is an unofficial electronic time for that race at 39.60 s).

The Jamaican women's 4x100 relay had two great champions in their team, S. Jackson and E. Thompson-Herrah. It was a real pleasure to see the latter back after several years plagued by injuries. (And I noticed that Briana Williams made it back to the national team. She's an athlete I follow but I was starting to lose hope).

The women's 4x400 relay was won by the amazing team of Norway. When H. Jeager took the baton less than a meter behind B. Hervás it was clear that she was going to prevail. But the split that I found amazing was that of A. Iuel who ran a below-50 s split, giving Norway the lead at the second exchange. I expect Iuel to fetch times under 54 s in her specialty (400 m hurdles) this summer.

The US team, in fact just a B-team, won the 4x400 mixed, the men's 4x100 and obtained the bronze in the mixed 4x100 m. But the event everybody was expecting was the men's 4x400 m relay, where Botswana is the reigning world champion. And they went on to win in front of their crowd. It was not an easy victory. Eppie passed the baton to Tebogo in first place but the latter was overtaken by an astonishing Pillay of South Africa. Ndori managed to bring Botswana back (just barely) to the lead and Kebinatsipi showed his immense talent by biding his time, not allowing the south african and australian runner to box him in, and sprinting to victory on the last stretch, winning in 2:54.47 (third performance of all times behind those of two US teams).

I was talking about the impressive split of L. Pillay, estimated (because splits are at best estimates) at 42.66. It was not the only one. Kebinatsipi was given a 43.09 s split. R. Holder of Australia had a split of 43.12. And speaking of splits there are three women with splits under 49 seconds, H. Jeager, Sh. Mawdsley and P. Sevilla. Although all three are great athletes I have trouble believing those splits (except perhaps for Jeager who has a personal best of 49.49, compared to 50.7 for Mawdsley and Sevilla), the altitude of Gaborone, 1014 m, notwithstanding.

A major disappointment was the performance of Belgium men's team. We have been accustomed to see them among the protagonists of the 4x400 m  but in Gaborone they finished at the last place of the final. Similarly the women's team of the Netherlands could do no better than 5th in the 4x400  final (and the remaining Dutch teams did not fare better). One thing that I have trouble understanding (and this goes back to this year's indoors) is why F. Bol is not part of the national relay. In Gaborone she could have made the difference between an "also ran" and a bronze medal.

All in all, this year’s World Relays were a thrilling and highly competitive event. With mixed relays now firmly established in the programme of all major championships—including this year’s Ultimate Athletics Championship—I am convinced we are in for many more exciting showdowns to come.

It's time for the real story of the Olympics

Unless you are living in an alternate reality you have certainly been exposed to the de Coubertin myth, a myth created by himself, peddled by a bunch of sycophants and sanctified by the multinational mastodon that has become the IOC. 

He was touted as the founder, father, saviour, reviver, restorer, creator, originator, initiator, pioneer, forerunner, progenitor, innovator, mastermind, prophet, inspirer, luminary, rebuilder, rejuvenator, patriarch, godfather of the Olympics. He was hailed as the guiding spirit of the modern Olympics, the architect of Olympic revival, the torchbearer of the Olympic ideal, the moral engineer of athletic renaissance. He is revered as the patron saint of modern sport. 

The list goes on and on, repeating ad nauseam the laudatory clichés and panegyrics for de Coubertin. But one should not swallow the platitudes of the de Coubertin hagiographies. The reality is totally different from what the baron himself pretends. In a letter, written in 1934, when people had (he hoped) forgotten the real history, he claims:

It has been said that Olympism was 'in the air' and likely to be revived somehow or other. It was not.

And just a month before, in an article celebrating the 40th anniversary of the re-establishment of the Olympic Games he wrote:

Vainement, des perfidies ultérieures s'exerceront-elles à faire prédominer la notion d'une création incertaine dont les étapes se seraient succédées timidement au hasard des circonstances. La vérité est différente. L'Olympisme est né cette fois tout équipé, comme Minerve! — avec son programme complet et sa géographie intégrale; la planète entière serait son domaine.

(In vain will later perfidies try to impose the notion of an uncertain creation whose stages would have timidly followed one another, at the whim of circumstance. The truth is otherwise. Olympism was born this time fully armed, like Minerva — with its complete program and its entire geography; the whole planet was to be its domain).

He implies that Olympism was born out of his own head, with no other parent, that there was really no "Olympism" in the air. 

Those are unashamed lies.

When Pierre de Coubertin visited William Brookes in Much Wenlock, England, in 1890, he knew nothing about the Olympics. His trip was driven by his interest in education, especially physical education and sport, a subject dear to Brookes at the time. Once in Much Wenlock, however, the baron stumbled upon the local Olympic revival movement, the very initiative that later inspired the modern Olympic Games. It was this movement that Coubertin would subsequently claim to have founded himself, single‑handedly.

I feel it is time for the real story of the Olympic revival to be told. There were, in the last half of the 19th century, two serious and significant national olympic revivals: one in Greece, and one in England. And, moreover these two revivals were interconnected. In a series of posts, I will tell their story, and how de Coubertin, in an act of perfidy (to use his own word), sought to expunge the Greek and English origins from Olympic history.

Sub-2 marathon: the writing was on the wall

That was the only occasion on which I disagreed with Ross Tucker. (If you read my blog, you know he is a leading South African sports physiologist for whom I have the greatest respect). In a post on The Science of Sport (with Jonathan Dugas), titled “The sub-2 hour marathon? Don’t hold your breath, just yet”, he offered a cautious outlook. Admittedly, the article dates back to 2013, but toward its end Tucker made some predictions. (For context, it was published just after W. Kipsang had lowered the world record by 15 seconds to 2:03:23). I repeat Tucker’s conclusion verbatim:

Bottom line is that talking about a sub-2 hour performance after seeing a 2:03:38 improve to a 2:03:23 is just not feasible.  The next barrier is 2:03, and I'm sure will go within five years.  Then we can begin to work towards 2:02, which will take another ten years, perhaps.

It's a great period for marathon running - every season, fall and spring, we get to anticipate a record at least twice.  2013 has delivered a successful attempt, but it shouldn't lull us into expectation that more of the same is just around the corner.

If I interpret Tucker’s timeline correctly, a sub-2 marathon might have been expected around 2040–45. On this occasion, however, his prediction proved overly conservative.

Running in London, last year’s top “out-of-stadium” athlete, S. Sawe, broke the barrier with a time that would have seemed unthinkable a decade ago. His 1:59:30 not only improved K. Kiptum’s official record of 2:00:35 but also surpassed E. Kipchoge’s unofficial 1:59:41 exhibition performance. The first half was covered in 1:00:29; then, propelled by two blistering 5 km splits of 13:54 and 13:42 between 30 and 40 km, he completed the second half in 59:01.

He was not alone. Y. Kejelcha also broke the 2-hour barrier with 1:59:41, on his marathon debut (!). J. Kiplimo, meanwhile, dipped under the previous world record with 2:00:28. (I had expected the record to come from Kiplimo, and in a sense he delivered—only two runners finished ahead of him).

Sawe’s run was not the only record. In the women’s race (women-only), T. Assefa improved her own world record of 2:15:50, set in London the previous year, to 2:15:41. (She still holds a faster personal best of 2:11:53 from a mixed race). H. Obiri and J. Jepkosgei finished second and third in 2:15:53 and 2:15:55—both just seconds outside the previous world record.

I was not planning to publish anything before later this week but when I saw the results from London I could not resist the temptation.

Walk for your life (where I do not write about race-walking)

From time to time, I publish an article that is not directly related to Athletics but still concerns physical activity. This time, I was intrigued by a striking title: “How we walk might reveal our risk of death”. The piece was written in a popular-journalism style, yet it referenced a scientific publication from a research team at the University of Leicester, published in Mayo Clinic Proceedings. I decided to dig deeper and tracked down the original paper.

This led me into the field of risk prediction, an area of research that is clearly flourishing. Insurance companies rely on precise risk assessment for their business survival, and life insurance is crucial for both insurer and insured. Many risk scores already exist, usually combining nonmodifiable factors (such as age, sex, or chronic disease history) with modifiable ones like blood pressure, cholesterol, smoking habits, and obesity. In recent years, researchers have shown growing interest in using simple physical behaviours as indicators of mortality risk. For example, resting heart rate has proved a convenient proxy for both physical fitness and a lower risk of death.

The University of Leicester team sought to determine whether measures of physical behaviour, such as leisure-time activity and sleep duration, and indicators of physical function and fitness, including resting heart rate and walking pace, could enhance or even replace traditional risk factors in predicting mortality. They analysed data from half a million individuals, divided into four groups: healthy women, unhealthy women, healthy men, and unhealthy men.

I will not go into all the details of their study. (If you are truly interested, I suggest you look it up and read it here: https://www.mcpiqojournal.org/article/S2542-4548(26)00017-2/fulltext). I will not go into all the details of their study but will focus instead on two graphics that I found particularly striking. 

The first concerns resting heart rate: the horizontal axis represents the heart rate in beats per minute, and the vertical axis the associated risk factor. It is remarkable that, at least for men, the correlation is almost perfect—notice the very small error bars. 

A resting heart rate below 50 corresponds to roughly a 25% reduction in risk, and this holds even for individuals with at least one existing chronic illness. (It is unclear why, for women, a low resting heart rate does not lead to a similar reduction; the authors do not comment on this point.)

The second graphic deals with walking pace—the paper’s main focus. Unfortunately, because walking speed was self‑reported, only three data points are available: brisk, steady, and slow pace.

Still, the effect is clearly visible. A brisk walking pace is associated with a notably reduced risk, whereas a slow pace corresponds to an increased one.

What is particularly noteworthy is that considering physical behaviour and fitness led to equally consistent conclusions for individuals with existing health conditions. Traditional risk scores, which rely mainly on non-modifiable factors or markers managed through medication, offer little incentive for behavioural change. The Leicester team’s study showed that adding measures of physical behaviour and fitness can significantly improve risk prediction—and among all predictors, walking pace proved the strongest, especially for those with a prevalent health condition.

These findings align with earlier work by the same researchers, who demonstrated that while increasing total exercise lowers the risk of heart attack, reaching the same total through higher intensity brings substantial additional benefit. To make this even more explicit: adding just ten minutes of brisk walking to the daily routine of inactive men and women aged 60 and above was linked to an increase of roughly one year in life expectancy.

So don’t hesitate—get out there and walk. Briskly!

PS I apologise for the somewhat prolonged silence but as you can gather from the photo below I was otherwise occupied recently.

Add to this the fact that the championship was taking place in Egypt, which is a great place for tourism, and you can understand why writing had to take a brief back seat.

Cheating on World Athletics’ Front Page

Some days ago, World Athletics published an article about the 2026 World Athletics Race Walking Team Championships. It was accompanied by a photo of race walkers in action, and, unmistakably, one of them was running.

The photo was taken at the 2024 championships held in Antalya, in the 20 km race. The athlete caught running was none other than the fourth-place finisher, Yuta Koga from Japan. That was no accident. In fact, Koga received two red cards during the race for “loss of contact.” He was not alone: half of the participants had at least one red card, most of them, like Koga, for loss of contact, and some for “bent knee.”

It may be best at this point to recall the definition of race walking. According to the World Athletics rules in force:

Race Walking is a progression of steps so taken that the walker makes contact with the ground so that no visible (to the human eye) loss of contact occurs. The advancing leg must be straightened (i.e. not bent at the knee) from the moment of first contact with the ground until the vertical upright position.

A race walker who infringes these rules may receive a red card, and after three red cards from different judges, the athlete is disqualified. In fact, the situation is more complex. There is also the yellow paddle, which serves as a caution to warn a walker that they are at risk of breaking the rules, for example, potential loss of contact or bent knee, but it does not count as an official infringement. The yellow paddle is shown to the athlete, while red cards are sent privately to the chief judge. An athlete may accumulate up to three red cards, but upon the fourth, they are disqualified. (The judge signals the disqualification by showing a red paddle.)

All is well and good, were it not for the words in parentheses in the definition of race walking. The loss of contact must be visible to the human eye. Unfortunately, the human eye is not a precise instrument; while photo and video captures reveal infringements, judges often miss them. No harm, no foul, you might say. Perhaps. But the fact remains that race walking has become a discipline in which athletes learn to cheat just enough not to get caught. World Athletics once considered using special sensors in the athletes’ shoes, but following a revolt by race walkers, shelved the project.

And now, they seem to encourage cheating, by featuring a photo of a “race runner” on their own web page.

PS After I had finished writing this article (but hadn't yet published it) World Athletics posted another article on the upcoming Race Walking Team Championships. This time they accompanied it with a photo of the women's 20 km race from two years ago. 

Giorgi was later disqualified with four red cards for loss of contact but Yin finished 12th without a single red card. Well, had I been a judge, I would have given her one.

PS2 And another photo from World Athletics.

They are publishing new ones every day. Fortunately, the competition starts in a few days.