Rainbow Connection

Rainbow Connection

By Paula Kiger

I stopped in a local coffee establishment Saturday morning. As I was waiting for my java, I couldn’t help noticing that the typical hubbub was amplified by the giddy giggles of a pack of young people.

These weren’t just ANY young people. These were young people who looked like they had just been disgorged from a vat of melted spumoni. Every inch of clothing and skin that was rainbow-colored. I inquired about their technicolor status and they proudly replied that they had just done a “color run.” Their enthusiasm was infectious.

My conversation with those human kaleidoscopes got me thinking. There seem to be no lack of gimmicks these days to lure runners in.

“Fad” runs are elbowing their way into our corrals, our roadways, and our trails. There are “color” runs where people who weren’t alive in the 60s can visit that psychedelic era one kilometer at a time.

There’s “neon,” there are obstacle runs: mud, shaving cream, water hazards. Oh, and don’t forget the Zombies lest they come after you [Insert bwahahahaha scary Vincent Price type laughter here]. It’s tempting to write these events off, to relegate them to some category completely unrelated to running.

I read an article recently whose author felt that today’s fad runs belong in some other category than running. That they cater to children of a generation whose parents were so scared of hurting fragile egos that there were no “losers.” No one kept score on the little league and soccer fields; everyone got a trophy. Participation was king, and competition was believed to be “too harsh.”

The author of that article may have had a point. But  they missed the fact that even though these events are wrapped in layers of fluffy fancy frou-frou, the people participating in them are still putting one foot in front of another.

Now, you will not catch this runner toeing the line at a color run. I am first and foremost a purist who throws his medal into a pile and routinely sheds his tschotschkes between the finish line and the parking lot.  In general, I am happiest with minimal hoopla when it comes to my running. If the baseline measure is “pureness of running philosophy,” I am at the low-tech end. Most runners in my age cohort feel the same.

There’s a new generation of runners, though, and an open road and a pair of running shoes aren’t enough for them. They need color, foam, obstacles, a “lure” to entice them to the start line.

But just because these themed events aren’t for me doesn’t mean they don’t have a place in our running community.

Color Runs are the equivalent of a really cute kitten whereas a competitive 5K, 10K, or Marathon is a lithe, lean, leaping leopard. I might even go so far as to say these events are a stuffed animal as opposed to a creature with a heartbeat. But they’re all felines.

That cute kitten has a place for the person who is intimidated to set foot on a race course. You know who I mean – the person who is scared they won’t make it around the block much less around a 3.1mile course. It has its place for a family group who has gotten used to living vicariously through other people’s on-screen lives. If a person wants to spend $40 per person to run, it’s none of my business.

Fad runs, our sweet little cutesy kitten, become my business when a for profit entity barges into town and is so blinded by the dollar signs that they don’t plan adequately. They may not have the right permits, meaning an event is conducted on an active roadway without traffic control. There may not be adequate hydration. There may not be enough medical staff present.  Kittens can be destructive when given free reign.

Over decades of traditional racing – meaning the no frills kind where all you do is run as competitively as you can from start to finish – I have seen people get injured. Now that novelty and adventure have upped the ante, I keep hearing about adventures that go from “daring” to “dangerous” in the blink of an eye.

This concerns me. It concerns me as a passionate runner. It concerns me as a connoisseur of common sense. It concerns me as someone who wears a race director hat once a year.

Speaking of that race director’s hat, this may be a little selfish but frankly I see the fad events that are held nationwide as a threat to my humble traditional race. I have nurtured my annual race from infancy, dealt with the adolescent years, and we are at long last adult friends with one another. I worry that my prospective attendees may chase the shiny unicorn and leave me holding the old fashioned bib strings. Will traditional races endure long enough to outlive the latest batch of newcomers?

I have been around the running world long enough to have seen trends come and go. On Saturday morning I found myself conceding the idea that the gateway for some of today’s young runners may be more likely to be a rainbow-hued sidewalk than a cinder track.

As I said already, getting pelted by colored corn starch does not do anything for me. I’m too frugal to buy an all-white ensemble just to get it decorated by eager color throwers. I don’t like having to maneuver through a sea of tutus to make forward progress. Give me an open trail and a happy dog any day.

But we all come to this sport through different doors. My personal path to running started in high school but it took until my 30s to love it.

I imagine some of the Color Runners may be guys whose most recent runs were from the couch to the fridge at half time. I have a hunch, though, that maybe one or two of those guys will find themselves lacing up quietly the next weekend. They will hesitantly step out into the sun and begin a slow reluctant trip down the street and back. They will be seeking another gulp of fresh air and the firing of the muscular pistons that they discovered at the fad run.

My fire in the belly gets stoked by the challenge of improving myself. I get excited by solitary hours through crunchy snow and bright rays of sunshine. I don’t need industrial size speakers  blaring rock music at me and I certainly don’t need to have substances thrown on me.  But our first timer guy’s fire in the belly just may start with some orange-colored corn starch.

In the case of fad runs, far be it from me to snub the experience that may bring someone into the fold. After all, they may start craving the running catnip themselves eventually. And when they do, I’ll see them AND you out there!

Article conceived and written by Paula Kiger

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