A local runner I know used to goad his training partners, "Come on, Sparky. Don't ya wanna hurt?" Now what kind of a question is that?

Turns out, as all experienced runners know, it's the only question in distance running -- the very heart of competition. Who can best endure the self-imposed, total mind/body ache that goes away if you ease back a little bit? The one who does not give in, the one who endures, even embraces the pain, finishes first.

Training forestalls the inevitable plunge into discomfort, and to that end, the long runs, tempo and speed work recorded by the front pack of any marathon are comparably rigorous. But sooner or later, all competitors slip silently into that zone where the depleted physical body reveals the real engine of the runner -- the mind. I put it to some great runners from then and now, men and women, U.S. and foreign-born: "What are your thoughts when the going gets tough? What mental feat carries you through the house of hurt?"

Supporting the research on the topic, most reported using a combination of associative (internal) and dissociative (distraction or external) thoughts, though distractions such as checking out the scenery or singing to oneself were used less frequently and usually in the early to middle sections of a race. Dissociative techniques seemed handiest for maintaining a pace or for finishing out a race that was not going well. (Japanese marathoner Sachiko Yamashita said she thought of music or what she would eat after the race if she was off her pace, things that never crossed her mind if she was running well.) When the going got tough, say in the last 10K of a marathon, the tough invariably turned inward.

Most thought of the race in terms of shorter segments -- the greater the discomfort, the shorter and more achievable the segments.

The oft-mentioned phenomenon of running one's fastest times with very little perception of discomfort makes a mockery of distance dogma (see my assumption above), but the instances are infrequent enough to remain happy aberrations, not the norm.

Some find strength in the divine, some in camaraderie, some in gaman -- the Japanese concept of enduring pain with dignity and grace. Brendan Reilly, who works with a large contingent of Japanese runners through Boulder Wave, says, "They are about perseverance: Fall seven times, get up eight. Japanese runners have commented on the strength many African runners seem to get from religion. They don't have that. They rely on never giving up, on working hard and never complaining."

Power words were mentioned. Romanian Lidia Simon (eighth in the 2008 Olympic marathon in 2:27) repeats "Mama" because her mother made her feel she could do anything.

Visualization (crossing the finish line, running lightly) was a practiced strategy for Yamashita, but it felt like a drain on needed energy to Lornah Kiplagat and Bob Kempainen.

Hendrick Ramaala, Paul Tergat and Simon used words like "fighting" and "battling" with regard to pain and miles, while Ryan Hall and Bill Rodgers talked about running with ease and working with oneself. Haile Gebrselassie has commented that one must accept pain in a marathon rather than fight it.

Onward, into the valley of discomfort, here are some other specific examples of how some notable runners have endured pain ...

r. a. lovett

Kara Goucher is known as a fearless racer. She posted PRs at 10K (30:55), 10 miles (53:16) and marathon (2:25:53) in the latter half of 2008, though the road has not been bump-free.

"I try to think about positive things -- how great my form is, how my arms are swinging, my breathing, how loud people are cheering. My sports psychologist taught me there are a million things telling you you can't keep going, but if you find the things that say you can, you're golden.

I zone out for three-fourths of the race and really come into focus in the last quarter. I use power words to help me focus.

If I'm struggling, I'll break it down -- one more lap, one more mile, increments I know I can do.

I think if you don't practice everything -- pace, distance, mental toughness -- you can't expect to go there during a race.

My best races have been when I decided right from the get-go, I'm here, I'm going to go until I blow up.

Being a distance runner is about handling pain. If you can't manage pain, you probably won't end up as a distance runner. "

Bill Rodgers trained a lot, raced a lot and won a lot (27 of 30 races he entered in 1978). Despite this volume, or maybe because of it, he says he felt like a "part-time runner" even when logging 140 miles/week, lacking focus and, often, confidence. This did not stop him from posting a 2:09:27 marathon, the best of 28 under 2:15.

"I mainly focused on things that would help me win the race, so things like 'keep pace' or 'maintain form.' When I was trying to win a 10K, I thought of Lasse Viren. I tried to train effectively to put off fatigue because the longer you can run comfortably, the easier the race effort will be.

The more you're into competition, the easier it is to focus despite fatigue.

I was running the Stockholm Marathon with Dick Beardsley and I'd say things like 'great pace,' 'we're going strong here,' and 'gaining on those guys ahead.' There's a lot of strength in camaraderie.

I ran too much, raced too often and I wasn't as confident in my training. I was winging it a lot of the time. Gebrselassie, Salazar and Shorter all trained smart and were careful about not racing too much. This gave them a mental advantage because they were confident of their physical fitness. You make yourself vulnerable mentally and physically by racing too much. [In contrast...] I was at the start line at Fukuoka and I said something like 'let's do it' -- stronger than that, but ... I thought I would win and I did. To reach the highest level of human endurance, an athlete must be injury-free and confident.

In 1978 Boston, I won by 2 seconds over Jeff Wells who gained 30 or 40 seconds on me in the last mile. He would have beat me if the race had been 50 yards longer. The last 800 meters was very tough. I wasn't really thinking at all, just trying to do my best and looking back and calculating how much further.

Frank O'Rourke [Rodgers' high school coach] was not a Bobby Knight type -- he didn't yell, he didn't knock. He gave me confidence that I was a good runner, although he told my parents not to get their hopes up. Maybe some runners are born with confidence but I think most get it from their coach. "

Lydiard Foundation

New Zealander Lorraine Moller has given a lot of thought to thoughts, and over the course of her 28-year running career, with 16 major marathon victories and a PR of 2:28:17, has road-tested the topic.

"I never thought about pain as a force to be reckoned with. Pain was a danger signal and I heeded it well, thus remaining mostly injury-free.

I don't like the word 'pain' to describe running. Pain is a completely different thing from being out of your comfort level, which most top runners relish and distinguishes them from less competitive people.

I spent more time carefully planning what I would do to combat self-sabotage than I ever did planning a strategy against a rival. Ultimately, the only rival is oneself anyhow.

In training, I would practice threshold runs with a heart rate monitor and, once I was going at maximum, I would scout for areas of tension in my body and see if I could relax them. Most often I could increase my pace by a few seconds without any increase in heart rate just by letting go. We think that faster means more effort. My intention was to go faster with less effort.

I've used tons of mental strategies, lots of games, like bargaining with myself -- I'm going to go 10 more lampposts and see how I feel -- breaking the race into small, doable segments.

The thought that's in your mind is immediately reflected in the body, and since the conscious mind can only attend to one thought at a time, I try to make that a positive one. In the Barcelona Olympics [bronze medal performance] I reached a point where I wanted to drop back from the pack. A negative thought. Instead, I ran to the front of the pack, just a few steps, and thought, 'Look, I'm winning.' I immediately felt better and stayed with the pack.

I have a song I sing to myself, to the tune of ''If You're Happy and You Know It.'' It goes like this:

I'm the best in the world and I know it, I'm the fastest in the world and I'll show it. I'm the fastest and the strongest and I can last the longest, I'm the best in the world and I know it.

I grew up in a very outdoors culture, and took a lot of physical risks as a child. I think taking risks and going beyond what you think you can do is a human drive. Running is a relatively safe way to do that. "

101° West Photography

A self-coached South African with a law degree, Hendrick Ramaala is perhaps best known for trying to shake the competition in the 2005 New York City Marathon with a 4:22 16th mile, followed by a spleen-melting final mile with then world record-holder, Paul Tergat. Tergat won by a fraction of a second. Ramaala said, though he didn't like losing, Tergat was even worse at losing than he was.

"Every day I train mentally and physically to beat pain. You know, the guy who beats pain and is well prepared is the guy who will win. In a big marathon, the good runners have all trained and are prepared physically. It comes down to mental strength. Pain doesn't kill; the winner is the guy who resists pain and survives it.

Big-city marathons inspire me more. The atmosphere is electric, your people want you to do well, the stakes are high, you are motivated. Winning these races is going to change your life, you will be the big man. You have visualized yourself winning, you believe you're going to win.

The tougher the competition, the better -- everybody will be hurting. I like to initiate a move and push the pace. I enjoy leading. I want to drop everyone, so when I see them struggling, I put the hammer down: More fire. More pain.

When I'm winning, I feel good. When I'm well beaten, I feel tired and bargain with myself just to finish the race.

Sometimes, there is luck, destiny. You believe you'll win but some other guy wins -- maybe it's destiny.

Once the mind accepts anything, the body will respond.

As an African, I see the daily struggles by the majority of our people to survive. Running pain is not the most painful; hunger, diseases, torture, etc., are. I'm so lucky: I get satisfaction after a hard run. It's an acceptable pain. "

Bob Kempainen

Bob Kempainen, a pulmonary specialist at the University of Minnesota Medical Center, has run the eighth-fastest marathon by an American (2:08:47) but earned a rep as a tough guy by spewing six times during the 1996 Olympic trials marathon ... and winning the race.

"The adrenaline and the anticipation leading up to a big race primes you to put up with a lot of discomfort.

My focus was definitely internal. I ran the first 20 miles of a marathon on autopilot, and the last 10K I was going as hard as I could. I was trying to go as close to that edge as possible without having to slow down.

It took every smidgeon of mental energy to move forward. I think if I'd tried to visualize or meditate, it would have taken mental energy and I would have slowed down. I was too tired to calculate my splits. I was too tired to hit my watch for splits. Maybe if I practiced it, distraction or visualization would work.

I wasn't that great of a kicker, I had little leg speed, so I would brace myself for a kick maybe 800 meters or three-quarter mile from the finish and then just go over that line and throw in everything and the kitchen sink. That last 10K, I was thinking about reserving something for the kick.

I set landmarks for myself -- I'll go another quarter-mile and see how I feel. Getting to the next mile marker, losing someone or catching someone also kept me going mentally.

I don't know how people can run four marathons a year. After a marathon, I was spent, mentally and physically. I couldn't crank out great race after great race. Maybe it had something to do with being able to dig deep, but not being able to do so very often. "

101° West Photography

From high school standout to the next big thing in U.S. distance running, Ryan Hall has posted the second-fastest marathon time by an American -- 2:06:17.

"I think about Jesus on the cross. I think about my wife. I think about my family watching the race at home. Sometimes I really don't think about anything. I find the best way to manage pain is not to have a set formula because different things work at different times. What matters is that the thoughts are positive.

I haven't found games to be too effective for me. I know that Paula [Radcliffe] likes to count and I tried that but it didn't work for me. I like to engage with my surroundings. In London I checked out some of the cool landmarks we ran by, and in Boston, I ran as close to the screaming girls at Wellesley as possible. When I was at the trials in New York City, I made eye contact with spectators to feed off their energy.

I never try something in a race, physically or mentally, that I haven't tried in practice. It's good to go into a race thinking I'm just trying to repeat what I've already done in practice.

My best performances haven't been because I overcame more pain than ever before -- they came rather effortlessly. I think you see this a lot in sports. The guy who gets last topples over at the finish, where the guy who wins runs through the finish line and straight into the victory lap. It's more about working with myself than trying to beat myself.

I've grown up doing hard manual labor periodically and had to learn to deal with discomfort. When I started running it was natural for me to push myself very hard. Managing pain is like anything -- the more you have to do it, the better at it you'll become. "

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