Plugging Ahead

This is about where the pain started Saturday.

Why do you run if it sucks so much?

This is a very valid question I was asked a month ago. Runners complain. Your hands go numb and you complain. You slip and fall and you complain. You get intestinal cramps during a run and you need a bathroom NOW. It's humbling. I complain a lot.

Why bother?

There isn't an easy answer to that. It was a question The Devil was asking over and over Saturday morning as I ran through a picturesque half-marathon on the Maine coast. Why bother with this?

Like any large race, the Maine Coast Half Marathon started runners in a herd. About 350 of us took off from the Biddeford UNE campus at 8 a.m. Saturday. We headed across a busy road and shuffled ahead in the breakdown lane of a major road for a mile. It was horrendous. We were elbow-to-elbow in a pack of runners, and it was impossible to find a comfortable stride. Just don't fall over.

I ran a 10 minute, 30 second starting mile; I had trained to run over a minute faster than that. By the end of the second mile it was obvious today wasn't going to be the goal-reaching day I was hoping for. The first two miles were really slow. And it was about 70 degrees, with blinding sun. One of the aid stations ran out of cups, so it was impossible to get water. This was going to be a slog.

Some runners do well in slogs. The girl I passed between Mile 5 and 6 was not one of those runners. She was arguing with her Dad. She wanted to quit. He was trying to get her to keep going. I didn't see them again.

Jog. Jog. Jog. Go over a hill. Stunning view of the ocean. Jog. Jog. Jog. Water station. Evaluate breathing rate. Jog.

Around Mile 9, the pack had mostly thinned out. I joked with a spectator about needing drugs. Any drugs. The runner behind me said she had gummies waiting for her at Mile 10. A few minutes later, while hoofing out 9:30 miles, I watched her and a couple of friends take their pain relievers. I was jealous.

And then the slog was over. Three miles to the finish line, the crowds were bigger. A guy was banging on a cowbell with a mallet as if it somehow helped. It did help. A little kid wanted sweaty high-fives. He got one. A bunch of college students were in the road, reading the name on your bib and yelling at you to keep going.

I started passing people. The guy with the obvious leg cramp problem was easy. Then came a pack of girls I'd been using to pace myself for about 10 miles. No problem. We hit a hill and people were walking. OK, I'll pass you guys too. Then I had to walk. No problem; everybody else is dead. It was 75 degrees and sunny at 10 a.m. That's fantastic weather for everything except downhill skiing or running 13 miles.

Running again, I made a turn toward home. A college kid had a megaphone and was barking, "Home stretch, the finish line is right around the corner." It wasn't exactly "right around the corner" in the context of everyday life. It was more like a quarter mile or so down the road. But you can't walk now. Not with dozens of people pushing you on. Then you run under that main road and come out in a throng of people. Lots of noise. You're delirious at this point, but that's OK. Just don't walk to the finish. And maybe pass that girl that's been in front of you for 13 miles. I beat her by a couple of seconds.

I could see by the time on the finish line banner that my run was terrible. I finished around 2 hours and 12 minutes; I was planning on being about 10 minutes faster. But here's the thing. Remember all those people I was passing? That helped me finish 614th out of 1,311 people. I've run 8 minutes faster and finished much, much further back in the standings. Finishing in the top half of all runners? It's not the feeling of accomplishment I wanted, but I'll take it.

Why run? It's about achieving goals. Sure, it's about being healthy and getting some leeway on not getting fat. But it's mostly about setting and achieving goals.

That's what made the first two miles Saturday so hard. Too slow. Too slow. Why are you even doing this? It turns out plugging along pays off, just maybe not in the way you had imagined.