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The 200th person to break four minutes for the mile, , was a Swiss runner named Rolf Gysin. On August 16, 1974, Gysin clocked a 3:56.88. It wasn’t a big surprise: he had already run 3:37 for 1,500 meters the year before, which is equivalent to about a 3:54 mile, and had competed in the Munich Olympics a few years earlier. He was 22 when he broke four; he’s now 72—and still kicking, so to speak.

Gysin was the last guy to make the cut in assessing the longevity of the first 200 runners to break four minutes in the mile, timed to coincide with the seventieth anniversary of Roger Bannister’s famous run. Sub-four doesn’t have the cachet it used to—Track and Field News that they would stop tracking American sub-fours because the barrier was no longer relevant, though it later reversed the decision—but it’s still a big deal now and was even more so a few generations ago. So did the rigors of pushing their bodies past a once impassable barrier shave years off the lives of these supermen? In a word, no. The study adds another data point to the general finding that elite endurance athletes—Olympians, Tour de France riders, runners—are rewarded with increased longevity. What this finding actually means, though, is perhaps less obvious than it seems.

The study was led by Stephen Foulkes and Mark Haykowsky of the University of Alberta along with André La Gerche of St. Vincent’s Hospital Melbourne in Australia. Its set-up is straightforward. Take the first 200 sub-four milers, and hit up Google to see when they were born and when or if they died. Overall, 60 of the 200 men had died, at an average age of 73.6. Those still alive had an average age of 77.6 and counting. The researchers weren’t able to obtain causes of death for everyone, but of the seven who died before the age of 55, six were traumatic deaths or suicide and one was cancer.

Comparing Runners’ Longevity to the General Population

For each runner, they then calculated their life expectancy on the day they broke four. For Bannister, the relevant comparison was how long a 25-year-old Englishman would be expected to live in 1954; for Gysin, it was a 22-year-old Swiss in 1974. Then they aggregated the results to see whether the runners had greater longevity than their age- and sex-matched countrymen.

Here’s what the survival curve looks like, with the x-axis showing years since first sub-four mile:

On average the runners outlive the matched general population by 4.7 years. There’s a generational effect: those who broke four in the 1950s outlived their peers by 9.2 years, while those who did it in the 1960s or 1970s had an edge of 5.5 or 2.9 years, respectively. That could be because the health of the general population is improving thanks to better medical care. But a bigger factor, I assume, is that most of the milers are still alive. Check back in another decade or two, and Rolf Gysin and his 1970s peers will (touch wood) have added to their longevity stats.

The main spur for this study was the long-running debate on whether “extreme” levels of exercise can damage your health—and lead to heart problems in particular. You may think that running a mile isn’t very extreme. But training to run a sub-four-minute mile is definitely extreme: this analysis from a few years ago found that top milers generally run between 75 and 105 miles a week, with around 20 percent of it at very high intensities. So it’s good news to find that barrier-breaking milers aren’t dropping like flies.

Still, there are a bunch of caveats to this kind of study. One is that outliving the average person is a pretty low bar to clear. How do athletes fare compared to someone doing the modest amount of exercise recommended by public health guidelines? found that the equivalent of just five hours of brisk walking per week extends your life expectancy by 4.2 years. , to be fair, are less optimistic—but a comparison of sub-four milers with, say, 5:00 or 6:00 milers rather than the average couch-potato would be interesting.

What Part Do Genetics Play?

The other big question is how much of the milers’ longevity is a result of genetics. I’m of the opinion that breaking four is something that only a small fraction of the world’s population can achieve, regardless of how hard they train, how healthily they eat, how fervently they believe in themselves, and how springy their shoes are. Perhaps the traits that make a four-minute mile feasible—strong heart, robust metabolism, great immune system—also favor longevity. Maybe Bannister would have lived just as long even if he had never run a step.

These are tricky problems to solve: you can’t randomly assign people to follow one lifestyle or another for decades, so every dataset has weaknesses. This particular study is also, yet again, all men. The women’s mile record is Faith Kipyegon’s 4:07.64, set last summer. At first I was thinking you could pick an alternate benchmark to study in women, like sub-four for 1,500 meters. But that barrier wasn’t broken until 1976, and by 2000 had done it, most of whom are presumably still alive. Even if you pick lower thresholds, there simply weren’t that many women competing until longer track events were added to the Olympic program in the 1970s. Unfortunately, this sort of longevity analysis for female endurance runners will likely have to wait a few more decades.

But even if you could tease out the effects of genetics and training, I suspect there might still be something missing from the analysis: the mystique of the four-minute barrier. I’d love to see a comparison of those first 200 sub-four milers with their contemporaries who ran between 4:00.0 and 4:01.0 in the same era—the near-misses. Back in 2018, a Dutch economist named Adrian Kalwij the longevity of U.S. Olympic medalists between 1904 and 1936. All the medalists lived longer than the general population, but silver medalists lived about three years less than gold or bronze medalists. There was something about being “first loser” that was even worse than coming third—an observation that has been confirmed by , which finds that silver medalists are the least likely to smile.

Money Also Affects Longevity

Kalwij is interested in the effect of socio-economic status (SES) on health: why do rich people live longer than poor people, and by how much? But his theory is that it’s not just about resources; it’s also about the psychological effects of winning and losing—whether it’s a race, or a spot at an elite college, or a job promotion. In in 2019 (which I wrote about ), he found that the effect of SES on the longevity of Dutch Olympians has been growing, from no effect in the earliest cohort to a difference of 11 years between high- and low-SES athletes in the most recent cohort. That reflects, he believes, an increasingly winner-take-all society in which we all have more opportunities to succeed but also more opportunities to fail. Those who accrue loss after loss in these micro-competitions pay a price in our health.

Whenever I see a study about the longevity of athletes—or, say, , who live longer than Oscar nominees—I’m reminded of Kalwij’s work. I have no doubt that physical activity is the single most powerful lever we have to improve health. I’m fairly confident that those benefits accrue even to those who train really hard, even if the new miler study doesn’t prove it. But I also wonder how much you benefit from the transcendent experience of reaching the top of the mountain—perhaps because my own best 1,500 time, according to , is equivalent to a 4:00.03 mile. Ouch.

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