Running fast never came easy. It never came period. I tried everything:

* "12 Steps to Walk Your Way to a Three-Hour Marathon." After 12 steps I had 26.19 miles to go.

* "30 Motivational Songs to Put Pep in Your Step." After 900 listenings, "The Heart Will Go On" loses much of its capacity to inspire me to sub- 4:00 miles.

* "20 Stretches for Rock-Hard Abs, Buns of Steel and Cerebellums of Cement." Too much thinking involved for me.

I knew there were books -- like "The Ultimate Running Guide" and its sequels -- that prescribed this formula: "Run lots of miles and mix in speedwork." But I'm not one to fall for gimmicks that I can get for free at the library. If I'm paying for a magazine, I don't want to be told that to run fast, I have to work at it. Give me "Soybeans for Stamina," "Chemical Concoctions for Recovery" and "Oxygen Tents for Energy" any day. I thought I could not get slower, but I sold myself short -- as my spring-debut race made clear. The Frogger 5.5K, which starts and ends at a microbrewery, sends runners down swampy paths, over sand mounds and up a steep gravel driveway. The latter wound on and on, ending in a chain that we had to hurdle. My obstacle, as ever, was wanting to soar like a god, not plod. Don Kern, co-founder ("confounder" is a better term) of the Frogger and other capers, says his goal is to give friends "diversions from reality." Everyone PRs because times and distances are approximate, even fraudulent. Participants sweat the big stuff: being vigorous, vital, out there, engaged and loving it. The rest of it, we let go. The brew served afterward was delectable but redundant. The camaraderie and comedy of connecting again with friends, the sight of my wife and our two-year-old daughter at the finish, knowing I needn't run a fast time to have the time of my life ... were intoxicants and elixirs. Diversions lead straight to the heart, it seems.