Trackside Cooking — The Art of Peaking a Women's Ekiden Team

Nothing ushers you deeper into the heart of Ekiden culture than joining a Saturday morning track session with the team, late in the season, ahead of the final major race on the university women's Ekiden calendar.

The Fuji-san Women's Ekiden is a best-of-the-best showdown among Japan's top university women's teams, held at the base of Mt. Fuji.

The race unfolds over seven legs, ranging from 3.3 to 10.5 km. That means the coaches have a very tricky job to ensure the team's top seven runners (plus several substitutes) are primed and ready to peak for their respective distances on the morning of December 30th.

If you've ever marvelled at how a restaurant can deliver vastly different dishes to the table at precisely the same moment, each cooked at its own pace, each requiring different timing, this is that kind of choreography involved.

This is three-star Michelin-level cooking on the track.

Turning up the Heat

I joined the Tamagawa University women's Ekiden team a week or so ago on a chilly but bright Saturday morning. When I arrive, a few of the girls are warming up with some laps around the track, while others are stretching, muffled up against the sharp wind. A neat line of brightly colored running shoes wait patiently for their owners to put them through their paces.

Nothing out of the ordinary so far.

I’ve been fortunate enough to train with the team for almost a year now. It’s rare for an Ekiden program to open its doors for an extended period like this, so every session I’m allowed to attend feels like a privilege.

Most of the sessions I’ve joined have been about the margins. The 0.01 percenters. The slow, patient work of building endurance and speed over time, layer by layer.

But this is the session I’ve wanted to see for a long time.

With the wider team selected and the race just weeks away, how do you bring so many different runners to a collective peak? Different legs. Different distances. Different bodies. Different levels of readiness.

How do you sharpen without overcooking anyone?

Sure enough, the usual relaxed air is tinged with a soupçon of nervous energy. Head coach Yamashita-kantoku is down on the track, multiple stopwatches dangling from his neck. The slow-cook sessions are over. It’s time to turn up the heat.

It was a pleasure to help pace Akari-san (left) to a 10K PB

The Practice of Preparing to Peak

So here's where things stand.

I'm standing in a pre-practice huddle with around 20 runners. Around half of them have been selected to race on December 30th, of which seven will actually run. The remaining three may or may not be called upon, depending on what happens to the others. Either way, they need to be ready to run one of the legs.

Speaking of legs, five of the seven will cover 6.8 kilometers or less, while the other two will take on 8.3 or 10.5 kilometers. The team spans first- to fourth-years. Some have already raced on big Ekiden stages. For others, this will be their first time. Two of the selected runners have just returned from Osaka after running 10 km personal bests in a time trial, while the team's ace is easing back from influenza.

That's a lot of moving parts. 😅

And training doesn't stop with those selected. Runners not currently in the lineup will do their own workouts. Some are running intervals. Others are logging longer, steadier efforts to build their base endurance. (I join a couple of runners in this latter group, ticking off a 10K at a controlled pace, In the end, I helped pace Akari-san through the final kilometers as she edged her way to a PB.)

This is the session I've been waiting to see. How is all of this managed? How are all these plates kept spinning without a single one crashing? As I set off for 20 laps of the 500-meter practice track at a steady rhythm, I get to watch it all unfold.

Managing the Heat

Once the session begins, Yamashita-kantoku cuts an animated figure. He moves along the inside of the track, stopwatches clicking, eyes constantly scanning. A word here. A hand gesture there. One runner heading the train of the team's top talent is gently held back, reminded to stay within herself. While another on a shorter solo effort is urged forward, given permission to press just a little harder.

He is the head chef on the pass. Not the shout-and-swear intensity of a Marco Pierre White or a Gordon Ramsay, but a quieter, more composed presence, guiding the women on his Ekiden team. Always conscious of how every individual runner needs to be prepped so that the team can peak as one come race day.

On the track at Tamagawa University

Inside the Flow

As I’m watching all this, I realise something I’ve long suspected. Ekiden is something you experience more than something you explain.

I’m running at the centre of concentric circles of movement. Runners sweep past at different paces: solo efforts, small groups, and the longer, flowing lines of a full train. Meanwhile, the team’s ace is bundled in multiple layers, a thick bobble hat pulled low, running in the opposite direction to everyone else as she works her way back toward fitness.

This is what Ekiden looks like from the inside.

You start to pick up the cues. The distinctive sound of the train approaching, legs moving in unison, light on their feet, tap tap tap. Hearing that sonic signal, other runners instinctively drift aside, opening the racing line. As the group clicks off another kilometre, the lead rotates. The front runner slips to the back, a new runner takes up the pace. Smoothly. Quietly. Without a word.

It’s quite something to witness.

Nearly There

I’m glad I experienced this. From the outside, it might look chaotic. From the inside, it’s remarkably precise.

The session finishes without ceremony. No long speeches. No drama. Just tired legs, quiet nods, and runners filing off to cool down. Another plate sent out on time. Another service completed.

Now, a week or so on, Fuji-san is just three days away. The dishes are nearly ready. I’ll be supporting the team as they line up with the aim of finishing seventh or higher and securing a coveted seeding spot, something that makes peaking just a little easier.

What’s clear to me is that peaking isn’t an exact science. With so many moving parts, different legs, different distances, and different states of readiness, there’s no single moment where you can say it’s been achieved. It has to be managed carefully, right up until the plates are sent out, with just a dash of luck and blind faith.

Good luck girls!