Armchair epidemiology—or why I’m a better runner than Eliud Kipchoge

Over the last week or two, pre-emptive postmortems on the continuing worldwide shutdowns due to Covid-19 have begun to metastasize. Their authors stand in judgment over these shutdowns, claiming to present incontrovertible facts that prove that the shutdowns were unnecessary.

These postmortems get published in widely-read, respected periodicals like The Telegraph, The Hill, and even the Wall Street Journal. The way they’re written, they sound like so much Serious Thought.

Today, I want to suggest that they’re the opposite. They’re rife with serious epidemiologic errors, and—perhaps more damningly—they conceal insidious privilege and a touch of implicit bias.

Buckle in. This is long. There are even footnotes.

First, let’s talk about running. (I promise this will become relevant).

I’m not a runner. I hate running. Running is what Dante forgot when he was making up punishments in the Inferno.

Since gyms are (appropriately) closed here in Massachusetts, however, I’ve taken to running around the city like a madman with a mask on. It feels even worse than I’d ever imagined.

Earlier this week, I ran hill sprints, which I wanted to do about as much as I want to see the Lion King remake. Hill sprints mean picking a hill, running up it as fast as you can, and then walking back down hoping you don’t throw up on the way. Here’s how it went: