Captain America is way too fast - a runner's rant

 

 How I imagine myself to be when I pass slower people while running in D.C.

While Captain America is in the news (you can read my [positive] review of the just-released Captain America: Civil War here), I'd like to get one of my long-standing rants about Captain America: The Winter Soldier, its predecessor, off my chest.



First, let me stipulate that Captain America: The Winter soldier is a good movie. Here's a one-paragraph review I wrote of it back in 2014:

Mod­ernizing Captain America by making a throwback to 1970s con­spiracy thrillers (hint: Robert Redford) seems a strange choice, but it mostly works thanks to a strong ensemble, genuine pathos between hero and villain, and refreshingly kinetic and clear action. Still, some implausible elements dissolve even under comic-book logic: Cap’s 2:18-minute miles, Black Widow’s becoming a KGB agent at seven (we learn she was born in 1984; do the math), and the dubious physics of both Cap’s shield and Bucky’s arm. But it’s still a good story about a character raised in black-and-white con­fronting a world of gray.

That review contains the germ of what has since become one of my bigger complaints about the film. This is not something about its pacing, plot, or characterization, mind you, as all of those are sound. It is, instead, a complaint about its treatment of running, about which I know a thing or two. Ironically, this defect proceeds, in part, from one of the best aspects of The Winter Soldier: A strong sense of setting that comes from actually having been filmed in Washington, D.C., where I now live, and where I had spent two summers as an intern before seeing the movie (though I did not see it while I was in D.C.).

I was particularly pleased to see the movie opening with two characters running at dawn on and around the National Mall, since that was and remains a staple of my D.C. life.



Much as I enjoyed that scene, both for how it echoed my own experience and for how it established a relationship between two characters, I have many problems with it. First, it showed both Captain America and Sam Wilson running laps around the Tidal Basin, along which sits the Jefferson Memorial. You may think that's a great place to run, if you've never been to D.C., or maybe only visited.

You'd be wrong. The Tidal Basin path has many low-hanging branches, which bloom beautifully during the cherry blossom season, but are short enough to require constant ducking from anyone taller than 5 feet, and sturdy enough to clothesline anyone who isn't paying attention. Since Cap is a perfect physical specimen well over 5 feet tall, I can only assume that he spent most of his laps around the Jefferson Memorial either parkour-dodging tree branches, or just straight-up running through them, which he probably could do, being super and all, but which I'd think would be a pain even for a superhuman. The Tidal Basin also floods easily, leaving multiple puddles on its path at even the lightest rain, and flooding parts or all of the path with anything heavier. And because it's so close to the water, the path always attracts geese, aka nature's bastards, who might even defeat a hero as valiant as Captain America.

"Hail Hydra!"

I can forgive all of that. Far more problematic is the depiction of Captain America's running abilities. In the above scene, we see that Captain America is running at what looks to be a constant sprint, such that the ubermensch constantly has to tell the genetic inferior he keeps passing "on your left." At one point, Sam Wilson tries to run with Cap, but he simply can't keep up. Fortunately, Steve stops and talks to this genetic inferior, at which point it is revealed that Steve/Cap has run 13 miles in 30 minutes. When I first saw the movie, I did the math in my head (because I'm a runner): That's 2:18/mile. The male world record for the mile, achieved by Hicham el Guerouj on July 7, 1999 (my 6th birthday!) is 3:43 (and my PR is a rather pathetic 4:27 equivalent 1500m). 

Let's think about this. Captain America can run a 2:18/mile, 1 minute and 25 seconds faster than the fastest mile that has ever been run. This is equivalent to 26 mph, slightly faster than the speed limit in most neighborhoods. And he can keep it up for 13 miles. So he's basically running anaerobically (i.e., into oxygen debt)...aerobically (i.e., without depriving himself of oxygen). Wow.

We can break it down further. The fastest human footspeed ever officially recorded is Usain Bolt running 27.78 mph during a race once. This is faster than Captain America's pace in the scene above...but Cap was basically jogging. He wasn't even sweating when he finished (which is quite the feat during most of spring, summer, and fall in the humid former physical swamp [and current moral swamp] that is Washington, D.C.). I have no doubt that Cap could outrun Bolt if he needed to. So, in sum, Captain America, can run over a minute faster than not only world record mile pace, but Olympic sprint pace (i.e., a constant anaerobic sprint), for 13 miles at a time.

Not pictured: Captain America, in front of Usain Bolt, having already told him "on your left"

Is this implausible? If we limit ourselves to the current capabilities of the human body...yes. But is it consistent with the rules of the Marvel Universe? Maybe. Here is what Chris Evans, the actor who portrays Captain America,  once said about Captain America's physique: 

 He would crush the Olympics. Any Olympic sport he's gonna dominate. He can jump higher, run faster, lift stronger weight, but he can be injured. He could roll an ankle and be out for the season. He's not perfect, he's not untouchable. So a lot of the effects, if I'm going to punch someone they're not going to put them on a cable and fly them back 50 feet, but he's going to go down, probably not getting back up, which I think humanizes it. It makes it something that, again, I think everyone can relate to a little bit more, which I really like.

If you are uncharitable, you could take this to mean that Captain America is only at the peak of human physical conditioning. This would limit his abilities to only the maximum extent of what humans are capable, but in every physical endeavor. If you interpret his abilities in this way, then he should only be able to sprint at the pace he runs for 13 miles for the same maximum distance that Bolt can, and so on all the way up the Olympic ladder (world 1500m, 3k, 5k, 8k, 10k, marathon record, etc.). By that understanding, Cap's D.C. running is wildly overpowered.

On the other hand, you could be more charitable. Maybe it's not that he stops only at the outer limit of human potential. Instead, perhaps he can maintain the highest possible human speed (regardless of duration) over long distances. In other words, he can sustain the fastest pace any human has ever run for as he needs to do it. That is, I suppose, one interpretation of his powers, albeit a pretty generous one. But it would be consistent. 

Am I reading too much into this? Yes. But if you didn't care about this sort of thing, you wouldn't be reading my blog. Permit me at least an occasional indulgence into an exploration of an instance of intersection between movies and running, two of my passions. At any rate, this may not be too egregious a violation of the rules of the universe in which this movie takes place. It's certainly not as bad as when Rocky ran 30.61 miles.

The real Captain America