Groet uit Schoorl is one of the Netherlands’ most iconic road races. It’s also one of the few 30-kilometre races still standing.

It’s five o’clock in the morning. Dark outside. The world is still asleep. At least, my world. My street. Even the lights of the cow farms are still off. Sara groaned when my alarm went off, turned around and went back to sleep. I’m eating the pancakes I baked late last night. There won’t be any lunch today.

Half an hour later I’m on my way to Utrecht Centraal. The first leg of my journey to Schoorl. Work is being carried out on the railway line this weekend, so I’m in for a long drive, followed by a long train ride and a bus ride after that. That’s what you get when you go running on the other side of the country.

Paul Waye – Waye of Life

Four hours after my alarm, I pin on my bib number, together with Paul Waye. He’s the reason I’ll be running today. Paul is a professional plogger in the modern sense of the word: sponsors pay him, so he can run every day through Haarlem and pick up trash. On weekends he’s either racing or cheering other runners on.

Today he’s doing all three, as sustainability ambassador for Le Champion, the organiser of the Groet uit Schoorl Run. Today’s race is a classic: one of the few 30-kilometre road races left in the Netherlands. Perfect for anyone preparing for a spring marathon. For those who aren’t up for that, there’s also a half marathon and 10 kilometres.

Giant trash bin

This morning it’s just me and Paul in what looks like a big storage room, part of the sports hall where people can get changed. A giant trash bin stands in front of him. With a piece of duct tape he attaches his camera to the bin. It will record every runner who throws trash into it during the race.

A piece of drainpipe is taped inside. It will hold the selfie stick of his Insta360. Normally he runs alone and films himself. Today I’ll help him get some additional footage. “We want runners to enjoy the race, but respect the course,” he explains. “So, no littering. Every kilometre there are bins on the side of the road. Cups and empty gel packets should be thrown in there.”

Raising awareness not to litter

When we walk around before the race, some people look in surprise at this bearded, ageing runner with a 220-litre trash can on his back. Paul just smiles, nods and chats. “It’s all about raising awareness. You don’t only keep the course clean for the organisation, but also for your fellow runners. If you throw your cups on the ground at aid stations, they have to run through all that trash.”

On our way to the start, we stand more still than we walk. For a moment I even wonder if we’ll be on time. So many people want a selfie, a hug, or just say hello. They’ve seen Paul running Egmond aan Zee, a famous half marathon in January, seen him on social media, or on television—because last year he ran 31 marathons in 31 days. Plogging, of course. That time not with a trash bin on his back, but pushing a stroller.

We met because of that adventure, became friends, and today will be our first race together. A spontaneous idea. I offered to help, he arranged the bib, and now we’re off. Thirty—or maybe twenty-one—kilometres. It all depends on whether we make the cut-off.

Empty gel packages

The start isn’t too bad. We’re running 6:15 per kilometre. For me, an easy pace. I’m just holding two cameras. Paul’s bin is seven kilos and that’s when it’s empty. Even before the start people were already throwing trash in. During the race someone regularly comes alongside and drops an empty gel package into the bucket.

At the first aid station Paul stops, takes off his bin and calls out to the runners: “Cups only in the bin, not on the ground.”

Ten minutes later we’re on our way again. Here and there we find a cup, thrown away. More often there are gel packets on the road. “Races are run by volunteers,” Paul says. “They sacrifice their day to ensure runners have a great race. If runners throw their cups on the ground between the aid stations, it’s the volunteers who have to clean it up. That’s what I want to make clear.”

Running in nature

That—and respect for the environment. Especially at a race like today’s. Littering in cities is bad, but we’re running in nature, which is even more vulnerable. Schoorl is a small town in the north of the Netherlands. From here we run to Groet, an even smaller town, and back through the dunes, close to the sea.

At every aid station we stop to spread the message. Lots of people run by, have a chat, or say thank you. Here and there we pick up some litter—mostly gel packets. It slows us down, so we don’t make the cut-off. I’m a bit sad. I do have a marathon coming up. Paul is relieved. The bin is starting to weigh on him.

I can’t imagine having to run with it on my back. Not just for the weight, but for the shape. With every step the bucket comes loose and then bounces back. Paul’s head is constantly bobbing back and forth. I think he’ll have more muscle pain in his neck tomorrow than in his legs.

Mission completed

Almost three hours after leaving Schoorl, we’re back. The finish line is now packed with people, all going wild as Paul passes by. With a broad smile, he waves to the crowd. Attention and awareness—that’s what it was all about. In that respect: mission accomplished.

Back on the train, on the way home, I keep thinking about how easy it is to drop something, and how hard it is to pick it up.