Some races are fun. Some races are fast. And then there are races that feel like part of your identity. For me, that race has always been Beach to Beacon.
Every year, the first Saturday of August feels like a holiday—one built around ocean air, Maine pride, and thousands of runners moving together toward the lighthouse. I’ve talked about this race before, but favorites have a way of revealing new layers every time you return to them. This Saturday, August 1st, I get to run it again, and it still feels like coming home.
Where It All Began: The Genesis of Beach to Beacon
Before Beach to Beacon became one of the most iconic 10Ks in the country, it started with one runner and one vision.
In the mid‑90s, Joan Benoit Samuelson—Cape Elizabeth native and Olympic gold medalist—imagined a race that would celebrate Maine’s coastline, uplift local charities, and inspire future generations to move. She wanted something that honored the routes she grew up running, the community that shaped her, and the idea that running can connect people in a way few things can.
In 1998, she made it real.
The TD Bank Beach to Beacon 10K was born as a literal journey from Crescent Beach to Portland Head Light. It wasn’t just a clever name. It was a tribute to place, community, and legacy. From day one, the mission was clear:
Bring world‑class running to Maine while keeping community at the heart of it.
That mission is why the race sells out in minutes. It’s why elites fly in from across the globe. It’s why families line the streets with cowbells and homemade signs. And it’s why so many Maine runners—myself included—feel like this race is woven into who we are.
The Land We Run On: A Privilege and a Responsibility
Beach to Beacon’s magic isn’t just the energy or the tradition. It’s the land itself.
Cape Elizabeth’s coastline, neighborhoods, and wooded stretches sit on land once stewarded by the Wabanaki peoples, who cared for these shores for thousands of years. The ocean views, the tree‑lined roads, the rocky headlands—they’re not just scenic backdrops. They’re part of a much older narrative of connection, sustenance, and belonging.
Running through this landscape is a privilege.
A reminder that the beauty we enjoy comes from generations of care. A reminder that shared spaces deserve protection. A reminder that community events thrive because the land allows us to gather, celebrate, and move.
And then there’s Fort Williams Park, where the race finishes. The lighthouse, the cliffs, the crashing waves—they’re iconic because the community fought to preserve this land as open space for everyone. It’s a finish line with history, stewardship, and intention behind it.
When you run Beach to Beacon, you’re not just running a 10K. You’re running through neighborhoods that open their arms. You’re running along coastline that has shaped generations. You’re running on land that carries stories older than the race, older than the town, older than any of us.
The Personal Why: Running With Her
There’s another layer to this race for me—one that lives quietly under every mile, one that shapes how I show up not just as a runner, but as a person.
My sister‑in‑law loved running with her whole heart. Beach to Beacon was her favorite race—the one she looked forward to, talked about, and carried with pride. She ran with joy, with grit, with that unmistakable spark that made you believe in the good parts of life. When she got sick, she carried that same spark into her fight. She was a warrior in every sense of the word—steady, brave, impossibly strong.
She gave me the gift of running. She gave me the reminder that movement is a celebration. She gave me a “why.”
I wish she were here to run Beach to Beacon with me. I wish we could share the early‑morning start, the ocean breeze, the final push toward the lighthouse. I wish we could cross the finish at Fort Williams side by side. But even though she’s no longer here, I feel her with me—quietly, fiercely, lovingly.
I feel her in the moments when the course opens up and the coastline appears. I feel her in the neighborhoods where families cheer like you’re one of their own. I feel her in the hard miles, the grateful miles, the miles that remind you why you run at all.
People talk about your “why.” She is one of mine. I run to honor her. I run to thank her. I run because she showed me that running isn’t about competition—it’s about connection, gratitude, and carrying forward the people who shape you.
This Saturday, she’ll be with me. Not in memory, but in presence. In stride. In spirit. In every breath of Maine coastline air. She’ll be running alongside me, the way I wish she could, the way she always will.
Why I Keep Coming Back
Every time I run Beach to Beacon, it feels familiar in the best way—like returning to a place that remembers you. It’s not about chasing a PR or proving anything. It’s about honoring a tradition that makes you feel connected: to the community, to the coastline, to the people who shaped your running story, and to the ones who still run with you in spirit.
This Saturday, I get to add another chapter to that story. And I can’t wait.
Follow Along on Instagram
If you want to see how the day unfolds, I’ll be sharing little moments from the course, the finish at Fort Williams, and the joy of being part of this tradition over on Instagram. No race‑day pressure, no competition—just the experience, the community, and the coastline we’re lucky to run on.
Come check in, say hi, and celebrate another Beach to Beacon in the books.