So Apparently I’m Becoming a Runner — Walter George’s 100-Up Drill
A 100-year-old running drill, a new runner, and another rabbit hole I probably didn’t need to go down
So apparently I’m becoming a runner.
I’ve got the shoes. I’ve signed up for races. I’m listening to running books while I’m at work. And at some point I’ll probably become the guy who can’t have a normal conversation without bringing up cadence, soleus muscles, foot strike, or why one of my legs seems to be doing something stupid.
But if I’m going to do this, I don’t want my entire training philosophy to be:
Put shoes on. Run more. Hope nothing breaks.
Obviously, if I want to get better at running, I need to actually run. There’s no magic drill, massage technique, gadget, shoe, supplement, or YouTube video that gets around that.
But I also want to understand what my body is actually doing while I run.
Where are my feet landing? What are my calves and ankles doing? Are my knees tracking straight? Does one side move differently from the other? And what starts changing once I get tired?
That interests me as a new runner.
It also interests me as a massage therapist who wants to understand runners, cyclists, endurance athletes, and other active people from more than an anatomy textbook.
Which is how I ended up going down another rabbit hole and finding a running drill from the 1800s called the 100-Up.
And no, despite the name, it isn’t just doing 100 high knees until your lungs hate you.
There’s a little more to it.
First, Who the Hell Was Walter George?
Walter Goodall George was an English middle- and long-distance runner in the late 1800s, and he was ridiculously fast for his time.
He became the first amateur runner to break 4:20 for the mile, with a 4:19.4. Later, as a professional, he ran 4:12.8.
No carbon-plated shoes. No GPS watch screaming his splits at him. No gels. No Strava.
The guy could move.
George also experimented with training methods. One of the exercises he developed was something he could practice indoors without a track or much equipment.
He called it the 100-Up.
His original booklet, The 100-UP Exercise, has been digitized by the H.J. Lutcher Stark Center at the University of Texas, so we don’t have to guess what he meant.
And his instructions are much more specific than the modern version of “do some high knees.”
What Is the 100-Up?
The basic idea is simple.
You repeatedly lift your knees while trying to keep your posture, balance, foot placement, and leg movement consistent.
George broke the exercise into stages:
preliminary practice
the 100-Up Minor
the 100-Up Major
The Major is the version that starts looking more like running. But George didn’t tell people to start flailing around until they hit 100. He wanted the movement controlled first.
That’s what caught my attention.
The challenge isn’t just reaching 100. It’s whether repetition 40 still looks anything like repetition 4.
Two Lines on the Floor
George used two parallel lines as guides. The original setup was roughly two lines about 18 inches long and 8 inches apart, with one foot centered lengthwise over each line.
Feet point straight ahead.
Nothing fancy. A couple pieces of tape will do it.
The lines make it easy to see if a foot turns out, drifts sideways, crosses inward, or lands somewhere different.
Simple feedback without needing a camera, force plate, motion-analysis lab, or somebody yelling cues at you.
Start With the 100-Up Minor
The Minor is the slower version, and it’s where I’m going to spend some time before getting cute with the faster one.
Stand upright with your feet facing forward. Lift one knee until your thigh is roughly level with your hip. Bring that foot straight back down to where it started. Then do the other side.
Left up. Left down. Right up. Right down.
Repeat.
The important part is paying attention. Is the knee traveling straight? Does the foot turn out? Does the torso lean? Does one side feel different from the other?
George counted every knee lift as one “Up.” So 20-Up means 10 per leg, and 100-Up means 50 per leg.
Not 100 on each side.
That would turn a technique drill into punishment for no good reason.
Then Comes the 100-Up Major
Once the Minor is controlled, George progressed to the Major.
This is where it starts looking more like running in place. You balance more toward the balls of your feet, heels clear of the ground, with the body nearly upright and only slightly inclined forward.
Then you spring from one foot to the other. One knee rises toward hip level while the opposite foot supports you. The raised foot comes down toward the same place it started as the other knee rises.
Eventually it becomes a rhythm: spring, knee up, switch, land, switch. The arms can move with the legs too.
At speed, yes, it looks like a high-knee drill.
The difference is that George was pretty picky about where everything went.
The Part I Find Really Interesting: Where Does Your Foot Go?
This is what hooked me.
George didn’t want the raised foot swinging way behind the body before coming back down. He wanted it to return pretty much to the same place it started.
Think: UP → DOWN.
Not: UP → BACK → DOWN somewhere behind you.
That sounds like a tiny detail, but once you watch for it, you start noticing a lot.
Does one side drift backward more? Does a leg rotate? Do you start landing wider as you get tired? Does your body lean to compensate?
A very simple drill suddenly gives you quite a bit to observe.
This Is Not a “Knees to Your Eyeballs” Drill
George wasn’t telling people to drive their knees as high as humanly possible. The target is roughly hip height.
If you start trying to knee yourself in the chest, your posture changes. If the foot starts flying too far behind you, you’ve changed the drill again.
The question isn’t, “How aggressive can I make this look?”
It’s, “Can I repeat the movement cleanly?”
And No, You’re Not Supposed to Start at 100
Despite the name, George didn’t expect beginners to immediately do 100.
A beginning session might only be 20-Up—10 per side. Then maybe 30, 40, 50, and eventually 100.
If you hit 32 and your knees are going everywhere, your feet are rotating, and you look like you’re escaping a swarm of bees, forcing another 68 probably isn’t helping.
You’re just practicing bad repetitions.
More isn’t automatically better. Quality determines the progression, not ego.
What I’m Watching When I Do It
This is where the anatomy-and-movement part of my brain gets involved.
I’m not a running coach—at least not yet—and I’m not pretending to be one. I’m a new runner who happens to spend a lot of time thinking about movement, soft tissue, recovery, and fatigue.
So when I practice the drill, here’s what I’m watching.
Knee tracking
Does the knee move straight forward, or does it wander inward or outward?
Foot position
Does the foot stay relatively straight and return to where it started?
Balance
Can I stand cleanly over either leg?
Calves and ankles
How quickly do I start feeling the lower legs?
Hips and posture
Can I lift the thigh repeatedly without leaning backward or twisting?
Right versus left
Does one side start falling apart before the other?
I’m not diagnosing anything from that.
I’m just noticing what changes.
That alone has value.
The First Few Reps Probably Aren’t the Interesting Ones
Fatigue changes movement. That’s not exactly breaking news.
Research on running-induced fatigue has found changes in things like stride characteristics, ground-contact time, leg stiffness, trunk position, joint motion, and impact-related measures.
But people don’t all change in exactly the same way.
So I’m less interested in pretending there is one perfect running form and more interested in what happens to my movement when I get tired.
Maybe reps 1 through 10 look fine.
What about 30?
What about 50?
That’s where the drill becomes more useful to me.
Not because it’s a validated injury screen. It isn’t.
It simply makes me pay attention to how my movement changes under repetition.
Why This Kind of Drill Interests Me
One thing I’m realizing as I get more into running is that it helps to understand the movement, not just accumulate miles.
A runner may repeat basically the same pattern thousands of times during a single run.
Calves. Soleus. Tibialis muscles. Quads. Hamstrings. Hip flexors. Glutes. Adductors. Feet.
Everything is working together while the body deals with gravity, terrain, pace, impact, propulsion, stability, and fatigue.
That makes me curious about what changes as those repetitions pile up.
What gets tired first?
Does foot placement change?
Does posture start falling apart?
Does one side behave differently?
That doesn’t mean every asymmetry is a problem that needs to be fixed. Bodies aren’t perfectly symmetrical.
But learning to notice changes gives me a better understanding of running and of my own body.
That’s enough reason for me to experiment with a simple drill like the 100-Up.
Will the 100-Up Prevent Running Injuries?
No idea.
More specifically, I haven’t found good evidence showing that Walter George’s 100-Up specifically prevents running injuries, fixes running form, or represents the one correct way humans are supposed to run.
And I don’t think we need to pretend that it does.
Running biomechanics are complicated. Different runners move differently, and different bodies tolerate different things.
A drill from more than a century ago doesn’t become gospel just because a ridiculously fast guy invented it.
Something doesn’t have to be magical to be useful.
For me, the value is simple: it gives me a way to practice balance, rhythm, posture, foot placement, and awareness of fatigue.
So How Am I Actually Going to Use It?
I’m keeping it simple.
I’ll start with the Minor, then use controlled sets of the Major.
Probably 20 clean reps and then see what happens.
If 20 looks good, eventually I’ll add a few. If my movement starts going to hell at 16, then 16 is enough for that day.
There’s no prize for ugly repetitions.
Meanwhile, I’ll keep doing the thing I actually need to do to become a better runner:
Run.
This is a drill. Not a substitute for running. Not a shortcut. Just another tool.
I Figure I Should Actually Do the Damn Sport
There’s another reason I want to document this stuff.
I’m learning sports massage while I’m also getting into endurance sports myself, and I think there’s value in experiencing the process firsthand.
I can read textbooks. I can take continuing-education courses. I can memorize anatomy and learn treatment techniques. All of that matters.
But I also want to know what those first miles feel like.
What gets tired.
What gets sore.
What improves.
What happens when mileage goes up.
What recovery feels like the next morning.
What happens when I screw up my pacing.
I’m starting pretty close to the beginning here.
That’s fine.
Actually, I think that makes this more useful. I can document the process while I’m learning instead of pretending I already know everything.
Along the way I’ll probably keep finding weird old training ideas, new research, anatomy rabbit holes, recovery techniques, gear, mistakes, and things I want to try.
Walter George’s 100-Up happens to be one of the first.
Want to Try It With Me?
Start with the Minor.
Stand tall with both feet facing straight ahead.
Lift one knee to around hip height.
Put the foot back where it started.
Repeat on the other side.
Keep the knees and feet traveling straight.
Pay attention to your balance and posture.
Start with 20 total reps—10 per leg.
Stop when the movement starts getting sloppy.
Forget about 100 for now.
Try 20, then actually pay attention to what your body is doing.
I’ll be doing the same thing.
Will this magically turn me into Walter George?
No.
I’d settle for getting through my first few races without looking like I’m being chased by something.
We’ll see how it goes.
A Quick Safety Note
This article is for education and documents my own process of learning about running and sports massage. Walter George’s 100-Up is a historical running drill, not a medical assessment or treatment. If an exercise causes pain, or you’re dealing with an existing injury or persistent symptoms, talk with an appropriate healthcare professional.
Sources and Further Reading
Walter G. George — The 100-UP Exercise, digitized by the H.J. Lutcher Stark Center for Physical Culture and Sports, University of Texas at Austin.
World Athletics — “140 years on, celebrating the world’s first sub-4:20 mile,” background on Walter George, his records, and training ideas.
Apte S. et al. — “Biomechanical Response of the Lower Extremity to Running-Induced Acute Fatigue: A Systematic Review.”
Trowell D. et al. — “Effects of running-induced fatigue on joint kinematics and kinetics during overground running: a systematic review and meta-analysis.”
AI-assisted article: I used AI to help research, organize, and draft this article. I reviewed, edited, and approved the final content, and the opinions, experiences, and conclusions are my own.
