September 18, 2026 · 6 min read
Agnes Ngetich Has Beaten Her Closest Rival Nine Straight Times. This Week, She's Doing Less, Not More.
Two World Championships open this month. The favorites in both are training less right now, on purpose, and that's the part worth paying attention to.
Opinion & personal experience, one athlete's take, not medical advice or individualized coaching. Sources are linked where claims need them; talk to a professional before big decisions.
Here's what's actually happening in endurance sport this week: not much, if you're one of the athletes who matters most.
In Copenhagen, the World Athletics Road Running Championships open with Friday's 5km, Jakob Ingebrigtsen against France's Jimmy Gressier in a race being billed as the headline showdown of the meet (Athletics Weekly). Sunday brings the half marathon, where Kenya's Agnes Ngetich defends her global title carrying a personal best of 63:04, the second-fastest half marathon ever run, a minute and change behind Letesenbet Gidey's 2021 world record. Ngetich's closest challenger on paper is Ethiopia's Tsigie Gebreselama, who has a very good 1:04:21 to her name and has still lost to Ngetich nine straight times across the last two seasons (World Athletics). The men's half marathon favorite, Kenya's Nicholas Kipkorir, arrives with a 58:08 from Lisbon this spring, good for the world's number-two ranking, and a home-course win at last year's Copenhagen Half in 58:23 (World Athletics).
A week later and a country over, the UCI Road World Championships open in Montreal, the city's first elite Road Worlds since 1974. The women's road race runs Saturday the 26th, 180 kilometers and 2,570 meters of climbing from Brossard into eight laps of the Mount Royal circuit, with Demi Vollering headlining a stacked field. The men follow on the 27th over roughly 274 kilometers and 3,800 meters of climbing, 12 laps of the same circuit, and a field that includes Remco Evenepoel (fresh off winning GP Québec), Mathieu van der Poel, Wout van Aert (two Vuelta stage wins, the green jersey, and the combativity award on his way out of Spain), and Isaac del Toro, who beat rising French star Paul Seixas on this exact Worlds circuit at GP Montréal a few weeks ago. Defending champion Tadej Pogačar won't be there at all; his season ended after the crash that forced him out of the Vuelta a España (Olympics.com, ProCyclingUK).
None of that is the interesting part of this week, though. The interesting part is what almost none of these athletes are doing between now and their start lines: very much of anything.
Two countdowns, two very different lengths
Ngetich, Gebreselama, Kipkorir, Ingebrigtsen and Gressier are days away from racing. Whatever build they had is already banked; between now and Sunday there's nothing left to train that would show up in the result. Evenepoel, Vollering, Van der Poel and Van Aert are further out, more than a week from their start lines, and coming off a season that's still actively racing rather than resting. Those are not the same taper. A runner peaking for one hard 5km or one hard half marathon this weekend and a classics rider peaking for a six-and-a-half-hour circuit race next weekend, after a summer of Grand Tours, are managing fatigue on genuinely different clocks, and it would be dishonest to pretend either group's week looks identical from the outside. Nobody outside these training groups actually knows the day-by-day numbers, and this isn't a claim to.
What does hold across both, because it's closer to physiology than to any specific plan, is the shape of the decision every one of them is making right now: protect what's already built, and resist the pull to add to it.
The part of a taper that's actually hard
The best-known research on this, a 2007 meta-analysis of 27 taper studies, found that a roughly two-week taper cutting training volume by somewhere around 40 to 60 percent, while holding intensity close to race pace, produced the largest and most consistent performance gains, on the order of a few percent, across the athletes studied (Bosquet et al., Medicine & Science in Sports & Exercise). The volume comes down. The intensity mostly doesn't. That's a specific, counterintuitive instruction, and it's the opposite of what tapering feels like from the inside, which is closer to doing nothing while a race gets closer by the day.
That feeling is the actual hard part, and it doesn't get easier with experience or a rainbow jersey on the line. An athlete two weeks out, fit, sharp, and suddenly training a third as much as they were a month ago, is fighting a very specific anxiety: that the fitness is draining away with every easy day, and that one more hard session would lock it in. It's the same instinct that shows up in age-group athletes tapering for a first marathon, and it's wrong for the same reason in both cases. The fitness is already built. What's actually being managed in these two weeks is fatigue, which is a different thing entirely and doesn't respond to more work, only to less of it and more sleep. Confidence is doing real work here too: an athlete who trusts the taper races differently than one who spends the final week second-guessing it, which is part of why the coaching guidance around race week leans as hard on logistics, sleep, and familiar routine as it does on the numbers. New shoes, new nutrition, an unfamiliar workout tried "just to check," all cost more in this window than they could possibly return.
The same week, at your scale
Almost nobody reading this is tapering for a World Championship, but plenty of people reading this have a goal event with a date on it, and the exact same trap is waiting in the final two weeks: on track, feeling strong, tempted to add one more hard week "to be sure." This is close to the reason a dated event goal here shifts its own framing automatically once race week starts, from building fitness to arriving fresh, specifically because that's the harder switch to make on your own once you're fit and getting anxious about it.
It shows up in smaller ways too. A taper week session that feels compromised, cut short by work or weather or just not feeling it, tends to trigger the same anxiety as skipping a hard block entirely, even though the actual cost during a taper is close to nothing. This is what the "if today won't work" answer on a given session is actually built for: how much this specific session matters right now, what missing it costs (often, this close to a goal, very little), and the shortest version that still counts, rather than an all-or-nothing choice made at 6am on no information. And if the anxious feeling is "am I losing fitness," that's a question with an actual answer rather than a guess: watching Fatigue drop while Fitness holds nearly flat on the Fitness Trends chart is what a taper working looks like in numbers, and it's a genuinely different thing to look at than trusting the calendar blindly.
Where this reasoning has real limits
This isn't a claim about what happens on any of these start lines, and it shouldn't be read as one. A well-executed taper doesn't guarantee anything; Gebreselama could break a nine-race losing streak on Sunday, a mechanical or a crash can undo six months of preparation in Montreal in a single lap, and course tactics in a 12-lap circuit race with this field will matter as much as anyone's form. It's also worth saying plainly that the taper research above describes averages across groups of athletes in controlled studies, not a guarantee for any one person: how an individual responds to a given volume reduction varies, sometimes a lot, and this is common coaching practice rather than a fixed formula with one right answer. Nobody outside Evenepoel's or Ngetich's own training group can say with certainty what their week actually looks like session by session; the read here is about the general shape tapering takes for athletes facing these kinds of efforts, not a report on any specific person's private plan.
What's true regardless of how any of these races go is the asymmetry itself: this week looks like nothing happening, and that's exactly what six months of training is supposed to look like in its final days. The athletes who get that part wrong don't usually find out until the race is already lost.