Running with Rachel Entrekin must be pretty wild—she encourages competitors and stops mid-race to pet dogs. But her personality is even bigger off the course. Tough and empathetic, her running success has come after 13 years of hard work and a battle to transform an addictive, perfectionist past into a healthier relationship with food, rest, and herself. And even as success came and ultramarathons were won, she watched opportunities go to her male competitors. Gloria Liu honors the incredible achievement of “smashing records while battling impostor syndrome and the fragility of your own self-worth in a world enamored with men, and their accomplishments.”

The key word, however, is average. As any female runner who’s ever passed a dude working himself into a froth to stay ahead of her on the trail knows, women beat men on an individual basis daily. And as athletes like Entrekin and Dauwalter have shown, they do so, occasionally and spectacularly, even at the elite level. We have an understandable reflex to point to categorical advantages that might explain why women can do this, Malcolm says: “It’s inherently feel good, the David and Goliath aspect of a woman winning outright.”

But in searching for the advantages we hope all women have, we may be missing a simpler truth: Most men are faster than most women, but some women still beat most men. The point is not that we have any advantage. The point is that they have almost every advantage—and we still win.

I have a vague eighth-grade memory of trying to run 400 meters in under a minute. The operative word here, of course, is “trying.” But what eluded me then is nothing for the middle- and high-school kids of today, who are shattering track records on a weekly basis. Some of that is sneaker technology, some of it is training, some of it seems to be an intense competitive drive fueled by social media. Whatever it is, Brendan I. Koerner has seen it in his own kids—and now he throws himself into the world of scholastic speedsters for his latest Wired feature.

The results make track old-timers shake their heads with wonder. In April, for example, an eighth-grade boy shattered the national middle-school record for the mile (he ran it sub-4:18). Just two weeks later, an eighth-grade girl ran the 400 meters faster than any US high schooler had at that point in the year (she clocked 51.58).

It’s not just the superstars who are getting faster. The runners in the pack behind them are picking up the pace, too, and they’re transforming what’s considered a decent time. “I think I have 10 middle-school girls who run between a 4:56 and a 5:16 mile,” says Peterson. “Ten years ago, you’d be like, ‘That’s insane.’ Now it’s nothing.” When these kids head to high school, they have the strength and experience to flourish right away. But given the sky-high expectations they face, the intensity can come at a cost.