How do you measure the effects of Paulamania? If it is through the viewing figures for yesterday's marathon and a rekindled public interest in the race, then the influence is colossal. Likewise if you count the hordes Radcliffe has inspired to join a jogging boom that is eclipsing that of the Seventies. But, if it is in the performances of her male team-mates, then this extraordinary woman has some way to go before she makes any impact at all.
British men's distance running is trailing in the wake of Radcliffe and never has it been in such a woeful state. With a few exceptions you have to backtrack almost two decades for world-class marathon performances by Britons. Seven of the fastest 10 marathon times by British men were set in 1985 or earlier and no one is within a whisker of the British record set by Steve Jones nearly 18 years ago.
Things are no better on the track. In the 1970s and 1980s no fewer than 19 men ran 10,000 metres in under 28 minutes. Last year one managed it and only two of the current top 10 for the distance have their best days ahead of them.
It is easy to dismiss dropping standards as a consequence of couch-potato lifestyles and to claim that there are too many distractions these days for kids to take up sport in the first place. Certainly the general unwillingness to run competitively is not aided by the gym factor.
Almost nine million Britons are now members of private health and fitness clubs, with many of those running on Sunday having clocked up the miles on treadmills or with jogging groups at their gyms. But, commendable though their efforts are, their sole motivation for putting on a pair of trainers is likely to be running's spiritual or fat-burning benefit. In the 80s, prior to the proliferation of swanky gyms, joggers who found themselves hooked were directed to their local athletics club and exposed to the harrier tradition of cross- country, once the bedrock of distance running in Britain.
But competition is an alien concept to today's born-again runners who jog to reduce the size of their derrière. With dwindling memberships across all age groups, athletics clubs are now struggling to survive and fewer people than ever are turning out to run in the cross-country leagues and championships that once produced Britain's finest champions.
When Radcliffe competed in the Southern Women's League as a teenager there were hundreds in each race; now, on a good day, there are dozens.
Dwindling participation due to changing attitudes is one reason why performances are plummeting. But it does not explain why those youngsters who do display potential and enthusiasm are failing to make it to the top.
Statistics show that, if anything, middle-distance performances at the English Schools Championships have continued to improve at least in the younger age groups over the last decade. Talent is not thinner on the ground, so why are things going so badly wrong?
One widely touted explanation is that today's athletes simply do not train as hard or race as often as their predecessors. Most of the current leading bunch run 10 or 12 times a week which suggests it is not their dedication that is in question but their training methods. So what has changed?
Those who were breaking records two and three decades ago ran and raced as often as they could. Now there is a preoccupation with trying to prevent fatigue and avoid overtraining that was not evident back then.
Sports science has created an obsession with high-tech heart-rate monitors, lactic testing and measuring aerobic capacity to avoid overstepping the mark. Like everyone else it seems that athletes now expect instant gratification from a minimum output and intensity of effort.
Radcliffe has proved that the cautious approach is not the answer. Her success comes from years of challenging accepted wisdom about the quality and quantity of training to the point where she now runs up to 140 miles a week, much of it at full pelt. It is clearly a winning formula. But how long it will take for the British men to catch on?
