No, not that kind! Not the butterfly in your stomach just before the start of a race.
I'm referring to the actual kind, as in the title of Edward Lorenz's presentation at the 1972 conference of the American Association for the Advancement of Science, "Predictability: Does the Flap of a Butterfly’s Wings in Brazil Set Off a Tornado in Texas?" (The original ground-breaking paper was in 1963, Deterministic Nonperiodic Flow.) An unexpected research result led Lorenz to the insight that, in nature, small changes can have large consequences. This insight became the founding principle of chaos theory, which, along with the butterfly effect, eventually got introduced to the general audience in 1987 via James Gleick's best seller, Chaos: Making a New Science. Here's Wikipedia's summary of the butterfly effect and butterfly effect in popular culture. The butterfly effect, also known as "sensitive dependence on initial conditions," has the corollary that forecasting the future can be nearly impossible. It's regarding this latter corollary that popular culture version of the butterfly effect usually gets wrong. The butterfly effect has become a metaphor for the existence of seemingly insignificant moments that alter history and shape destinies.
In his fascinating new book, "The Sports Gene," David Epstein (Sports Illustrated) describes how, with chess players, small differences in talent (initial conditions) can lead to large differences in outcome, given the same amount of practice. Epstein was careful to refer to this as a "sort of butterfly effect of expertise." "Sort of" because this butterfly effect is not that of Lorenz. This butterfly effect, though it has "sensitive dependence on initial conditions," does not have the non-forecasting corollary, at least not in the Lorenz sense. A key idea in Epstein's book is that exceptional talent (initial conditions) plus lots of correct practice (repetition) plus help in timing or favorable circumstances or environment are necessary for greatness. The first two, initial conditions and repetition, are generally predictive. The third, favorable environment, is the variable that clouds up the forecasting of outcome. This "sort of" butterfly effect informs a multitude of other areas of endeavor, besides various types of sports. In music, a good example is Hilary Hahn, who had the "gift of nature," practiced 4-5 hours a day, and had supporting parents and teachers, who created the favorable environment.
As relates to running, the "sort of" butterfly effect really highlights the importance of form and small adjustments to it. Three examples:
1. I've previously written on how a matter of 1/4 inch between the two sides of the right heel of the shoes I was wearing at the time (Nike Free), at about 48,000 strides per week (at my then weekly mileage), meant an extra 500 ft. of vertical distance that side of the foot had to stretch. That 1/4 inch "initial condition" mattered!
2. Until recently (spring of this year), on easy runs, I've taken two strides per breath in and out (2-2). With the increased training I've been doing, especially since the end of 2012, my #strides/breath has increased to 3-3. From 2-2 to 3-3 (initial condition), the oxygen cost of my running has decreased, and my running economy has improved.
3. On my training runs, I try to focus on form, one aspect of which is a higher back kick. The latter should result in a slightly longer stride. Let's assume that the additional length of the stride (initial condition) is one inch, what's the effect on the outcome of, say, a marathon? A marathon is 26.2 x 5,280 ft. = 138,336 ft. At a stride length of 3 ft., the entire race would take 46,112 strides. If each of the strides were an inch longer, then the total extra distance covered by the same number of strides but with a back kick would be 46,112 in. / 12 ~= 3,843 ft. That's almost 3/4 mile or around 7 minutes (at 9-10 min./mi. pace)! Of course, rarely does one hold form throughout a marathon, especially towards the end. But, the potential of that initial condition is there.
Running is the perfect metaphor for life--or, is life the perfect metaphor for running? :) In both, small things (initial conditions), repeated over and over again, matter (for better or worse). Hmm, does that mean marriage is "chaotic"? :)
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