In the course of the Iowa caucus, the New Hampshire primary and the countless debates in which he was lucky to get a word in edgewise, he won the Mr. Congeniality ribbon. And, in our view from the boondocks, his background in politics and diplomacy made him the best-qualified candidate for president.

But Gov. Bill Richardson couldn't get his credentials across to the people participating in the bizarre nominating process of those two earliest-in-the-nation states for selecting the highest office in the land. He drew 2 percent in the first, 5 percent in the second, finishing a distant fourth in both.

In the wake of defeat in New Hampshire, he bravely declared that "We head out West and the fight goes on." He came off as a happy warrior reminiscent of Hubert Humphrey; one leading The New Mexican's Steve Terrell, who reported from both states, to wonder:

Would hanging in there make him a bigger player, when August rolls around, at the Democratic national convention in Denver? Big enough, we wondered, to be the vice-presidential nominee?

Coming from a state with only five electoral votes, his chances aren't great — yet Vice President Dick Cheney hails from Wyoming, where for years sheep outnumbered people. And when it comes to choosing running mates, both parties have made far more surprising choices than Richardson.

Add to that the hope that, a year from now, a Democratic president might make Richardson a high-ranking Cabinet member, and he momentarily saw reason to linger near the national spotlight.

But after declaring that he'd still run in Jan. 19's Nevada primary and that he'd remain a candidate on Feb. 5, when 22 states conduct their primaries and caucuses — New Mexico's caucus included, along with high-stakes states such as California, New York, Massachusetts and Illinois — it looks as if he's giving up his quest for the presidency today.

That decision is as good as it is painful — for him, for his wife, Barbara, and for the devoted gang of "Road Runners" who left the relative comfort of New Mexico for long stretches of hard campaigning in Iowa and New Hampshire.

He has to know that his early showing dimmed his chances of winning even on his home ground. Favorite son he might be, Richardson could have looked to his fellow New Mexico Dems like a wasted vote in the upcoming caucus. Losing here would have hurt — not only in terms of lost delegates he might have taken to Denver to barter for the favor of a potential president, but also of damage to his personal prestige in the Land of Enchantment.

There were chances, slim and none, that what impression he had made on a national audience might earn him a top-three finish somewhere. Yet in the waning days of the New Hampshire campaign, an absence of advertising hinted that he was running out of money to buy TV time — and it looked as if he'd go on getting short shrift from the national media.

Still, as the eminent University of Virginia political scientist Larry Sabato told Terrell, "dreams of the White House die hard."

So it was looking as if the governor would soldier on, running our state by remote control while the Legislature is about to convene for a 30-day session that'll be all but over by the time the sun sets on Super Duper Tuesday.

If, indeed, he's out, he can deliver Tuesday's state-of-the-state address as a leader who made his mark on the national scene — and who once again will demand plenty from the lawmakers and money-spenders of our state.

And, depending on the roller-coaster course of the election campaign, he might yet land a major role in the next national administration.

He'll barely have time for a deep breath for the next month, maybe longer — but his stamina is legendary. His fellow New Mexicans can hope that the rigors of the campaign, and the disappointment of ending it, won't leave him too worn out to carry on with his ambitious social, educational, environmental and fiscal reforms.

We salute the governor for the effort he made, and welcome him back to a New Mexico in need of him.