Looking at the entire historical context of the 10,000 WR progression in comparison to what it was during the EPO Era (that period during which there was either no EPO testing or very minimal testing in the later stages; roughly 1993-2005) reveals just how dramatic the impact of EPO was on the sport.
During the EPO Era, it was broken 10 times in only twelve years, going from 27:07 in 1993 to 26:17 in 2005, a total drop of 50 seconds, or 4.17 seconds/year. But in the twenty years before that (nearly twice the amount of time), the 10,000 WR was broken only 5 times and was lowered by only 22 seconds, going from 27:30 in 1973 to the 27:08 that Chelimo broke by a scant 0.32 seconds in 1993, or only 1.1 seconds/year.
Think about those stats for a moment. As records get better, they get harder to break, and thus are broken less often and by smaller margins. The record pace of the 10,000 had slowed considerably by the 70s and 80s. Then, suddenly during the period when EPO was largely untested, that record is broken . . .
(a) twice as often (10 times versus only 5);
(b) by nearly four times the annual margin (1.1 seconds/year versus 4.17 seconds/year); and,
(c) in nearly half the time (12 years versus 20 years)
. . . as the 20-year span immediately preceding it, and this was at time when the pace of records had been steadily slowing. And, of course, we know that PED use was well under way in that previous era of 1973-1993, so it's likely that even some of the small improvements during that era were due to PEDs. As illustrated by the example of the 10,000 WR, it is almost impossible to overstate the tectonic shift in records and performances that EPO caused in endurance sports.
But go even deeper. Here's some other things that leap out at me when I study the 10,000 WR progression:
Starting with '93, the 10,000 WR was broken every single year for six straight years during the height of the untested EPO era (1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 1997 and 1998, and it was broken twice in '93 and '97). Prior to that period, the most consecutive years the 10,000 WR had been broken was . . . two. That happened five times ('49-'50, '53-'54, '62-'63, '72-'73, and '77-'78). The 10,000 WR was broken more than three times as often during the EPO era than at any other time in history.
The last time the 10,000 WR was broken was in 2005, right after effective EPO testing went into widespread use. That record is now eight years old, which makes it the longest-standing 10,000m WR ever in the modern era. Previously, the longest a 10,000 WR has survived was seven years (Clarke's 27:39 in '65 to Viren's 27:38 in '72). There is no one on the horizon who seems likely to threaten the current record, and I'd wager a good sum that it will last at least several more years, depending on how soon the next completely undetectable, incredibly powerful hemoglobin-boosting drug can be developed.
So, during the EPO era, the 10,000 WR was broken at a rate more than three times as often as any other time in history. Since the introduction of effective and widespread EPO testing, that record has become the longest-standing 10,000 WR in the history of the sport. While correlation doesn't equal causation, you have to be living in a fantasy world to believe that there isn't direct causation between EPO and the lack of testing for it and the ridiculous re-writing of the 10,000 WR from 1993 to 2005.
As a result, the general fan's view of what constitutes a "great" performance has come to be determined not by what an incredibly talented human being with an iron will, superb coaching and rock-hard self-discipline can accomplish, but rather by the cartoon-like performance that results when that same individual has an artificially-enhanced hemoglobin level.