Reading Chris Thompson's comments after Mo Farah won the 10,000 last night at the European track championships in Barcelona. First, let me say that the Spaniards are having a banner year in sport, what with the World Cup victory and the Tour. Now that they're hosting Europe's biggest track meet, it's just icing on the cake if they take home a few big victories. 

Now on to Thompson's calling Farah the best distance runner in British history. Hmmmm. I guess that Steve Ovett, Sebastian Coe and Steve Cram don't count. I guess that technically one could call them "middle distance" runners (Cram's 800 of 1:42 was a marvel of precise speed; two back-to-back 51-second 400's), but I still think of them as distance runners. Anyway, Thompson can be forgiven the hyperbole, as he got second in that same race. 

Which got me thinking about who America's top distance runner might be. I'm a big fan of Jim Ryun's and Steve Prefontaine's, but neither fulfilled their potential. Ryan Hall is great, but he has yet to dominate at the international level. Word is that he's headed back to the track to work on his speed. So if not these guys, who's the best? 

Something to think about as we count down the days to XC season. In the meantime, check out this final at the World Junior Championships. 

Keep Pushing... Always

Base miles for cross-country season entered week four yesterday. The best part of all this is the constant daily improvement. The hard part is holding everyone back, knowing that introducing speed too early will shorten the season. So it is that the miles are tempo pace or LSD or recovery or steady-state or strength-oriented. Like this morning, with a two mile flat section before heading into six miles of steep hills. My job was just to offer encouragement and show the way, as it was a new route. We did a similar run the very first week of practice, and the solidarity wasn't there yet. But today it was a strong and powerful group that ran those hills together. There was banter in all that dust and incline, and I felt blessed to have that time of focus to start my day. 

The season is still too many weeks away to count -- OK, six -- but instead of being antsy, I'm glad for all that training time. Once the season starts it's almost impossible to get these kind of long quality weeks. The wider the base, the higher the peak, goes the saying. I may just let this base phase continue all the way up to that first race. 

Or not. 

Keep Pushing... Always

I am not entirely satisfied with the outcome of this year's Tour, as it feels like a virtual tie. The bottom line is that Alberto Contador has his third title. 

But the bigger picture is how to spend the rest of the summer TV-wise? World Cup's over. Tour's over. With the exception of So You Think You Can Dance and Mad Men, things could get a little hum-drum in my viewing world. No more reason to get up at 5 a.m. and listen to Phil and Paul over a cup of coffee and the LA Times. No more reason to invest myself in soccer for the next four years. And with the Angels doing a slow fade in the AL West, unwilling or unable to find the pitching and big bat that will get them past Texas, it seems that the only thing to get fired up about is the upcoming Federal investigation into the Posties. And that's just depressing, so I may only peek in on that one from time to time. Heroes will be hung out to dry, and the finger pointing between former friends (or not -- Greg LeMond shocked exactly no one by saying he wants to help any way he can) will only drag things further into the dumpster. 

But that's for another day. For now, let's just revel in the memory of one of the best Tours ever. It made me miss the bike race part of the Tour in a big way -- and made me realize that Americans are capable of staying riveted even when LA is not in the hunt. 

Keep Pushing... Always

Contador gets a little -- very little, as I'm still a little miffed about Chaingate -- respect for not contesting the finish. Schleck did everything on that climb today. Perhaps one of the most exciting stages I've ever seen.

It also dawns on me that there was a whole lot of alcohol on that mountain today. 

I can't remember the last time that an attack was so imminent, so guaranteed, and so pivotal as what will happen tomorrow. And it can't be a small thrust, but a seismic backbreaking heartstopping in-your-face assault that not only earns back those lost seconds, but establishes a cushion for Saturday. 

And I wonder, just playing the devil's advocate -- let's say there's only a two-second gap going into Paris. Does Schleck attack yellow on the final day of the Tour? I say yes.

Listen to what I had to say on Seattle's KPUG yesterday.