Author: Mollie Zapata

Every day, more runners transition from casual to competitor, from I’m in it to finish to I want to PR or place in my age group.

At any point in this progression, a coach might be helpful–whether as an advisor or a cheerleader or an accountability partner–and there is something especially powerful about the coach-athlete relationship that lasts over time. The dynamic changes as each person gets to know the other better. Coaches tailor training programs to unique athlete needs, know better when to push and when to rein in a zealous competitor and better understand the athletes’ challenges outside running that might affect their training, attitude or motivation. On the other side, athletes learn their coaches’ particular training philosophies, build trust in their coaches’ advice and in many cases gain a friend and mentor who, though primarily focused on running achievements, helps them in other parts of their lives.

Most runners will never win a race. They’ll never make the front page of the results; they’ll never qualify for Boston. Sometimes they’re last, or close to it. But they run, and they keep showing up.  

They’re “back-of-the-packers,” meaning simply, “whatever distance, or whatever race you’re running, you’re at the very end.” As the volume of runners has almost doubled over the past 10 years, the number of back-of-the-packers has followed. The increase in charity running, local running clubs, and surge in “X Weeks to a Marathon” training plans has fueled this growth.

The cones are out. The flyers are up. Volunteers are milling around and bibs and t-shirts are in a stack, just ready to be claimed.

Is anybody going to claim them?

I wasn’t approaching a normal running club.

That much was clear as I cautiously approached a group of runners convening near a D.C.-area metro station. No one glared down at a Garmin, willing it to load data. I saw no race t-shirts and no new shoes (sporting either is a punishable offense with this group). And instead of a 40-person group stretch, a chorus of raucous voices sang an unprintable song while doing what might be  considered, generously, a silly dance.