Runner's World doesn't tell you everything.

It was probably about six months ago when I first came across the new 5k strategy published by Runners World, supported with scientific data and all sorts of powerful facts, and decided, heck, let's just go out there and give this one the ol' college try.

See, scientific data and facts are powerful motivators for me. I believe in them. If you tell me something is true, and then cite a scientific study, I'm likely to believe you. Hell, I'm likely to tell others. If what you're telling me suggests that I try an experiment myself, well, I'm likely even to do that.

What Runner's World had somehow happened upon was the idea that runners wishing to PR in a 5k distance race should, quite simply, go out too fast. They had the data to prove that it works, and so, somewhat (I believe) irresponsibly, Runner's World decided they should advocate this technique.

So, like the type-A personality science-and-truth lemming that I am, I went along with it. What the article suggested was that the runner start the race 6% faster than their usual 5k pace, which, to any performance driven (type-A) runner, sounds really sweet, because look at how fast you'll be going! In actuality, 6% faster than your usual 5k pace means 6% faster than the pace you can hold for the race distance.

Yes, start running a pace you can't sustain. Great idea. Haven't we always been told never to do that? Haven't coaches and runners alike always advocated against going out too fast, risking the degradation of pace, or worse yet, of total shutdown before the finish? Isn't the backbone of endurance athletics the ability to access personal performance levels, apply patience, and, yes, pace oneself?

Well, yes. And no. According to Runner's World.

The point here is that the 5k is such a short distance that the amount of pace degradation will still not be enough over the 3.1 miles of the event to detract from the time gained by going out too fast.

And I though, "sweet." So I decided to try it.

Now, my 5k PR previously was 19:21, for a pace-per-mile of 6:14. Now, the Runner's World "Fast 5k Calculator" (they wanted to make it easy for everyone to try this) told me that I should go out with a starting pace of 5:50 / mile. Wow. Pretty sweet, I thought. I've never run sub-6 miles before. Awesome.

So, I gathered some friends together, which is odd for me, because usually I like to fail by myself, without other people watching. But, hell, I thought, let's make a party of it. So we did. Fortunately, all my friends decided to either run or walk the course as well (at my sudden urging), which worked out well for me, since no one would be able to see what might or might not happen.

And the gun went off. And I set what I though would be a 5:50 pace. Fast. A Fast 5k. Thank you Runner's World. And I round the first corner, having to lean into it cause I'm going SO FAST! It was awesome. And mile marker 1 comes up, and I look up ahead - one guy. There's one guy ahead of me. I'm second! Sick! 5:39. Oops. Oh well. This is awesome, I think. There's only two more miles - I can do this no problem. I can probably even hold this pace for the whole thing! Runner's World rocks!

But Runner's World doesn't tell you everything.

Oh my God it hurts. It hurts so bad. This fast 5k thing is so ridiculously painful. The problem is, you're purposefully setting yourself up to fail, with the only caveat being that you won't be able to fail completely before the finish because the race is so short. Now I've been hit in the face with a snow ski and lost all my teeth. I've taken some nasty spills on a road-bike that left me unconscious. I've been in car accidents. I've taken falls from great heights. The thing is, these things are quick. They happen in an instant. Sometimes, if they're bad enough, you're body goes into shock - thank God - and spares you the experience.

Runner's World spares you nothing. Just a long, long, ever so long, slow, slow decay into delirium and total agonizing exhaustion. But you won't quit, because it's too humiliating to quit at mile 1.5 of a 5k.

And that's about where it happens. It's was over for me. People started passing me. I went from second to third to fifth to tenth in about a quarter mile. Mile two came and I was ready to call it a day. How could I possibly go another mile? But what happens if you drop out of a 5k? What a fool you look like if you've just been leading the pack. What an idiot I would be. I've done everything I've always learned not to do: way to fast out of the start, in complete oxygen debt, panting like heat-stroked dog, hardly able to keep my feet moving. But I do. I do. I can't let anyone see me quit.

The last tenth of a mile was like the last 10k of a marathon: unending. I felt like I was sprinting but was probably lucky to be pulling a 7 minute pace. Finally, the finish. I grab my finishers card and look at it. Sixth. Huh. Sixth. That's pretty cool. I look up at the clock. 19:00. WHAT? 19:00.

Yes, indeed. It worked. Runner's World, although they didn't tell me everything, was right. And here's why I think they can call this sketchy little article a safe bet: there are only a few people who would actually go out and try it. There are only a small handful of people who would actually go against their own better judgement and the advice of nearly every running coach and professional in the sport. There are only a few. And those few are the same few who would be the only ones to actually finish the race they have, in such a reckless manner, started.

The type-A's. The few. The sore. Me.