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Just this weekend I experienced a painful example of negative transfer that involved some hills and almost tears (but not quite). My whole family is big into running, so whenever there is an opportunity to jump in a race or try out some new running trails, we will seldom say no. This past weekend we were up in Northern Minnesota, where we did a lot of trail running, which included a fair amount of hills. After a couple days of being up there (and running on the hilly trails) one of locals clued us in on a local 5-mile trail race that is "super fun", and a great way to support the community. My parents happened to have done the race before and didn't mention anything bad about it, so I was game to "give it a go".
As I mentioned above, we had been running on the trails for the past couple of days, which had more hills than I was used to running, so my legs were beginning to feel a little sore and tired, but not enough that I was going to opt out of the "fun" trail race.
Come race day, I partake in my usual routine of getting in a 10 minute warm-up jog, going through my dynamic exercises, and making sure I was properly hydrated and fueled. I was feeling good so I was excited to get out there and run fast and hard. The gun went off and I pushed the pace just a bit so I could get a good positions amidst my competitors, just like I do in all of my races. About 5 minutes into the race I was feeling quite good so I decided to pick up the pace a bit more and pass some of the people in front of me, again, just like usual. It may have been that I was going slightly downhill, but I was amazed at how good I was feeling, and continued to pick up the pace. And then......, the up-hill started, and it went on, and on, and on and then it flattened out for about 5 meters, and then continued to go on, and on and on and on. My legs were shot not only from this never-ending hill, but also from the fair amount of hills I had been running on over the past week, and I was beginning to question everything I knew about running. I had run hilly courses before, but nothing as hilly as this "super-fun" 5-mile trail race. It's safe to say that I experienced a very, very painful example of negative transfer. My previous experience in running trail and cross country races did not serve me any good, and I sure felt it after I was done. It would have been much easier if I had not pushed the pace so much in the beginning but because I was so used to doing this and because I had success doing this in the past, I did not question this tactic and never thought it would come back to bite me as much as it did. It was a humbling experience, to say the least, and showed me some things I may need to work on come this cross country season with WTC i.e., how to run up hills and not feel like you're going to pass out.
The image below is a great representation of how I felt during the race and displays basically the exact phrase that was running through my mind for a good 50% of the trail race. I survived, but just barely.

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Ever since I was about 10 years old, and attended one of my first track meet's, where I got to stand on the blocks so that a 6 foot, 180 pound 400m runner could "get off the blocks", I have been somewhat obsessed with the idea of becoming a professional runner. I would jump at any opportunity to go to a track or cross-country meet and would be glued to the TV whenever any running events were broadcasted. I could sit and watch a whole marathon on TV and be perfectly content for the entire race.
I eagerly joined the high school cross-country team as a 7th grader, and even though the singlet went down to my knees, I was so happy to be apart of a team that I didn't care how ridiculous I looked or how hard I had to try, I was going to run my heart out and stay on that team and run varsity for as long as I could. Although I may be a slightly above average runner, no matter how hard I try, becoming a professional runner just doesn't seem to be in the cards for me. I may have the skills it requires to race competitively, I just don't have the ability it takes to run a 5k in 14:34 (to be fair, there's only a small handful of elite runners that can run that fast.. Shelby Houlihan). My overall ability to run fast is not something I can change with obscene amounts of practice, it is a general trait that I possess that is not significantly modifiable, and although I may be able to fine-tune my competitive running skills to get faster and run some PR's, I don't think I am going to be able to fine-tune them enough to shave 6 minutes off of my 5k PR and magically go to the olympics. The level of success that I will be able to achieve in the skill of competitive running has been predetermined by my running ability, and it's safe to say that  I do not believe that ability is of olympic standards.
Some runners who do have olympic-level running abilities are Shalagne Flanagan, and Shelby Houlihan (can you tell I'm a big fan?). The picture below is particularly noteworthy because Shalane (the one with blonde hair) is pacing her teammate, Shelby, to a new american record in the 5k (14:34)  which was held by Shalane not too long ago (14:44). Needless to say, these two runners have an amazing ability to run fast and with ease and it is always amazing to watch them compete.

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Often times, when a runner has just run an insanely fast time or broken a long-standing record they are interviewed afterwards and asked "Now tell me, what was going through your head? What were you focusing on? How'd you hold on to that lead?". The viewers, commentators and fans are so amazed that they just ran the time they did we NEED to know how it was done - maybe we could implement some of their tactics into our training and racing plans, right? Well, that would be great if they could break it down into a nice step by step list so that the rest of us could experience the success they just did, but a very common response I have gotten used to hearing is "Well, really, I just got out there, tried my hardest, and ran my heart out". Darn. If only there was some secret they could let us in on. After taking this class and learning about the different forms of memory we have, it seems that the reason these elite athletes don't break down their inspiring wins for us, mere mortals, is because this information is stored in their procedural memory. Knowing how fast to go out, who to draft behind, when to "put the hammer down" and all of the other nerdy running tactics they have up their sleeves has become such an automatic part of their racing strategy that they can no longer put it into words or verbalize it - it has become second nature to them after years and years of implementing it.
The image below is of Shelby Houlihan, a rising star in the distance running community, winning a 1500m race. If you watch her race, you will clearly be able to see that her race strategy has become second nature to her. She stays towards the back or middle of the pack for about half of the race, slowly makes her way up to the front, and effortlessly shuts down the competitors with her amazing final 200m sprint. Watching her employ her procedural memory and amazing ability to win a race is really inspiring and motivating, to say the least.

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I always joke that the reason I run cross country and track is because I am not coordinated enough to do anything else i.e., you wouldn't catch me playing the position of a wide-receiver, juking an oncoming cornerback, catching the ball one-handed while blocking with my other hand, and then making a break for the end-zone. Maybe that's not something most people can do, but to me that seems like a near impossible task. Although I may not consider myself to be very coordinated in the traditional sense of the word, running does require a fair amount of coordination, and more specifically, requires your coordinative structures to be working properly. Running would be a much more difficult task if you had to think about pushing off of from your heel to your toe while firing your calfs, hamstrings, glute's and hip flexors while also making sure that your right arm is swinging in unison with your left leg. Phew! Cue the reason why I am so thankful for coordinative structures, or groups of muscles, often extending over several joints which are linked together and act as a single unit when activated, all controlled by the central nervous system. This seemingly simple structure makes it so that when I am running, I can control groups of muscles as a single unit, thus requiring less mental effort and allowing me to have coordinated limb movements!
As I have mentioned within other concepts, cross country courses can often present a wide variety of factors that must be considered by the runner - roots, rocks, other runners, mud, hills and much, much more! Thanks to our coordinative structures, the movements that are required to navigate through the often treacherous cross-country course does not require a whole lot of thinking. As stated by the dynamic systems theory, our motor systems will self-organize such that when certain environmental and physical conditions are met, a specific stable pattern of behavior will emerge. So when I am running in a race, and am going from a down-hill straight to another up-hill, my body does not go into some sort of state of confusion. My motor control system is able to change from one stable state to another, and allows me to keep running with peace of mind that the dynamic systems in place in my body will take over when another environmental variable comes into play.

The picture below represents how I sometimes feel (and unfortunately look) when attempting to play sports that require hand-eye-coordination. I can always fall back on my excuse of, "that's why I'm a runner", but it might not help me look any less stupid. Oh well, you can't win every battle.

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Cross country courses are not always kept in the best condition. Because a single course can range from being in the woods, on a golf course and over some gravel road, there are often many things you want to be on the lookout for in order to stay on your feet for the whole race (which is usually one of my top goals). Additionally, bigger races can have upwards of 200 people, and if you are not paying attention to your foot placement and the runner in front of you, there's a good chance you could go down, and did I mention that most everyone in the race is probably wearing half-inch spiked running flats - ouch! Finally, in bigger races, there are sometimes markers on the trees that are there to help you run the course in the most efficient way i.e. green markers signify cutting the tangent, yellow markers signify staying on the outside, and orange markers signify staying in the middle. Again, there is a lot to consider when running in a cross-country race, and if you are at the top of the competition, you'll want to know every little tidbit of information that could give you an edge against your competitors.
I was reminded of all of these things you need to be on the lookout for while you're racing when we covered visual search in module 3. When there are roots you could trip on, heels you could step on, and 1/2-inch spikes you could be trampled by, it is in your best interest to engage in visual search and make a strong effort to direct your visual attention to locate relevant cues on the running course, below your feet, in front of and behind you. It may sound like an overwhelming task at first, and it definitely was when I was a 7th grader running in a competitive 200 person race where there were a lot of pushing and elbowing, but as I became a more experienced runner I started to get the hang of knowing what to look out for without having to have my coach remind me before or during each race. It becomes an automatic task, and after you get some practice running in bigger, more competitive races, you realize that it is such a constant requirement that you will not even think about having to "perform" visual search.
The image below is not of a cross country course,  but of the superior hiking trail in Northern Minnesota. Although cross country courses are not usually this rugged, I was recently up in Northern MN, running on the superior hiking trail, where my visual search skills were certainly put to the test.

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It may be noticeable that I have been uncovering the seemingly simple sport of running, and revealing how complicated it can be when you go beyond the scope of just "going for a run". I will argue that the skill domain, or the underlying capacities most essential for accomplishing the skill of being able to run competitively requires much more than just being able to run.
The first, and maybe most obvious skill that the sport of running requires is the motor skill that is running! What a surprise, right? Well, it would be pretty hard to be a competitive runner if you were not able to run. Running is a gross motor skill because it requires relatively large musculature, like your quads, hamstrings, and gluteus maximus, in order to produce the action. It is also considered to be a continuous motor skill because it is repetitive and rhythmic in nature - plant with one foot, push-off with that foot, plant with the other foot, and push off with that foot, over and over again - and the beginning and ending of running is more-or-less arbitrary and unpredictable (if only I could stop running whenever I felt like it in an actual race). I would also consider the skill of running competitively to fall into the category of being a perceptual motor skill. To be successful at running with speed and strength you must be able to discern between pain and exhaustion, and whether you are truly incapable of going any faster, or if your mind is just telling you that because you are feeling some discomfort. You should also have a good sense of the "feel" of the race and the competitors around you so that you can go with them when they "make a move" in a race.
Finally, you must have the cognitive skill of knowing how to engage in the racing aspect of running. Like I have mentioned in other concepts, you need to know how fast to go out, where you should place yourself in the field of competitors, how to engage in mental and physical stamina, and be in touch enough with yourself that you know when and how aggressively you can begin your "kick" in the last portion of the race. Like I've said, running competitively takes a whole other set of skills besides simply being able to run, and if you do not practice and fine-tune these skills, you will not be able to compete as well as you could against the other runners.
Napoleon Dynamite knows that it takes a special set of skills to get a girlfriend, similarly to the way that competitive running has it's own domain of skills - unfortunately nunchuk skills have not yet made the list, though.

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But, like, don't you just have to, like, run?

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But, like, don't you just have to, like, run?

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It may sound silly, but you really do have to learn how to run competitively. If you just throw someone into their first competitive running race without giving them any tips, warnings, or advice, chances are that may have been their very first AND last competitive running race. When learning about Ackerman's model of human ability and motor learning and Fitts and Posner's 3-stage model, I could vividly picture myself going through each stage that was identified.
I remember when I first started competitively running, I would get extremely nervous and overwhelmed before each race. I was processing so much information, in terms of the advice my coach was giving me, what my parents were telling me, and what my nerves were telling me I was hardly able to focus on the actual "running" part of the race. I was also experimenting with how fast I should go out and having very successful and unsuccessful races, depending on how fast or slow I decided to go out. I was improving, but it wasn't without some trial and error.
As I started to become more comfortable and confident in my abilities, I was able to identify what racing strategies worked best for me, what things I was doing that weren't especially helpful (i.e. tipping my head back when I was tired and cutting off air flow), and was able to complete a race, while knowing what visual search tactics to implement, without the need of a significant amount of coaching from my coach or parents. I was still improving, but wasn't shaving off as much time as I was in the beginning of my racing.
Finally, when I became quite experienced and the racing strategies were now second nature, I was able to start honing in on improving my reaction time to the start gun and to my competitors making moves, my mental stamina so that I could go out faster and stick with competitors I didn't think I could in the past, and became aware enough of my body that I could detect when I would start to fall back or resort to a inefficient running form and be able to correct these tendencies and therefore run with greater efficiency and strength. The final stage is ongoing, and there are still new things for me to focus in on and learn to do better at each season, but I feel confident enough to say that I have come a very long way from my first race as a seventh grader when my singlet was so big that it would slide off my shoulder every 800 meters.
The photo below is of me (in the black and white), trying to out-kick my fellow competitors in one of the toughest meets of the year. I was in my senior year of high school in this photo, and had figured out the important tactics that helped me run some of my best races.

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This may sound weird, but there is often a lot to consider when racing in cross country or track. Even before the race, there is a lot to consider; what shoes to wear, what size spikes to put in, it might be sleeting out - should I wear a long sleeve? Should I wear my gloves? How much should I eat? Should I try going to the bathroom AGAIN? I rest my case. Running is more complicated than it looks, huh?
Then comes the start line, you've got to figure out how many strides you want to do, what warm up routine you think will be best for this course, and how soon to the start of the race you want to be at the starting line - additionally, all of this is to be considered when you feel so nervous that you might cry and throw up at the same time... running is so fun!
Then comes the fun (?) part, the actual race - which opens a whole other can of worms. You have to think about getting out fast enough that you get a good place, but not too fast that you will crash halfway through the race, you want to make sure you're enough on the outside that you can see your teammates, family and coach in case they have some tips for you, but you don't want to be so far on the outside that you actually make the race longer than it has to be. Towards the end of the race you start to see all of the coaches on the side of the course "yelling" at they're athletes, and the most common thing that they are saying is "GET GOIN'! You've only got 800 to go!" I can't tell you how many times I've heard this, ran what felt like a 600, and heard another coach yell the exact same thing. Which leads to me thinking "So you're telling me, that I just ran my hardest because I thought I was on my last 800 and I have a whole other 800 to go?" it's not the most fun feeling to feel like your legs may give out under you and you're expected to give it all you've got all. over. again. Anyways, when learning about the interpretation of Hick's law - when the time required to make a decision about a response is linearly related to the "amount of information" that must be processed in coming to that decision - it made me think of this exact situation. Whenever I would hear a coach yell "800 to go", I would have to make my mind up quick if I wanted my race to go well. Should I trust that there is actually only an 800 to go and start my kick now, or should I wait a little longer, possibly leading to the girl I've been holding off the whole race passing me and not getting the time I was aiming for. I would also have to consider how tired I was feeling, how important the race I was running was to me and my teammates, and how much I would care if the girl behind me passed me. Needless to say, there is always a lot of information that needs to be processed in order to make the decision - a lot more than you would think, at least - and it often leads to me taking longer than I should to make my response selection.
The picture below accurately represents how I often feel when running in a cross country race and hearing 5 different coaches yell "800 meters to go", when they're each 200 meters apart.