Marathons attract fundraisers, but are amateurs fit to run?

CHICAGO — If a popular marathon is sold-out, procrastinators can still finagle their way into the race. And no, we don't mean sneaking onto the course.

The secret is joining one of the dozens of charity groups that still have some coveted late-entry forms. Simply commit to their cause — raise some money — and you'll be at the starting line with 45,000 other runners, hobby joggers and walkers, regardless of your experience or ability.

But while marathons can be rewarding and life changing, they can also be grueling, unpleasant events, especially if you're new to the sport. If you're also fundraising — no easy feat — you might feel pressured to keep pushing with training when you shouldn't. And some running coaches worry that the charities are more interested in raising money than in the health of the runners, a charge the charities deny.

"Most people don't understand how hard it is to run 26.2 miles," said DePaul head track and cross-country coach Patrick Savage.

The mushrooming success of charity running is helping drive a marathoning boom.

Once hard-core competitions that excluded women, marathons are now an all-comers party; some even resemble parades.

Last year, more than 7,300 charity runners raised more than $9 million at the Chicago marathon. This year's race includes a record 112 registered charities, fielding teams ranging from two to 1,200 members.

In exchange for a minimum donation of $1,400, for example, runners with the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society's Team in Training (TNT) receive a race entry ($125 value), group runs and coaching, a 16-week structured training schedule, camaraderie and other amenities.

Many say they like the charity training programs, which now include bicycle rides and triathlons and adventure races, because giving to a worthy cause makes the events more meaningful. The programs attract people who may never have considered the event without a charity tie-in.

"There is something very uplifting about working with people who devote themselves to helping others do something good," said Chicagoan Vanessa Scott James, 41, who ran the 2006 Chicago marathon with the National AIDS Marathon Training Program and has signed up this year. "When you're struggling on the long runs, you start to think of how much harder it is for someone battling AIDS or mourning a loss. It cuts down the whine factor at least by half."

But marketing campaigns target anyone who might be inspired by the cause. Inadequate training programs and trying too much too soon can lead to injuries and make marathons a one-off experience, rather than serving as an introduction to a lifelong activity, said Chicago running coach Bill Leach, director of gait analysis and speed training for the Chicago Area Runners Association.

"Running a marathon has been romanticized without a reason," added Leach, who thinks first-time runners should try shorter races first.

When he coached charity teams, he believed in their mission but found "precious little attention was given to the best interest of the runner," he said. "When push comes to shove it's: 'Now, we need the credit card information.' "

Another criticism, Savage said, is that some programs "are not really training people to run a marathon. They're training them to 'complete' 26.2 miles."

The difference often sparks a heated debate within the running community. Slower runners are often still working toward the finish after the course has closed, which can pose safety issues. And when conditions are extreme, such as in 2007, when the Chicago racecourse was closed early because of excessive heat, all runners — but especially the less experienced ones — are more susceptible to injury or dropping out.

In general, runners who hope to compete in a fall marathon should be able to run at least 6 miles before training even begins in June; building up to that can take six months to a year.

No running base is required to take part in charity running programs, but the AIDS Marathon Training Program requires participants to be able to run at pace of 17 minutes per mile. To finish before the course officially closes after 6 hours and 30 minutes, a runner needs to maintain a 15-minute mile pace.

Charity officials freely acknowledge that fundraising — not training runners to break three hours — is their primary mission.

But they bristle at the charge that the training programs are lacking.

"Our goal is to do everything we can to get people to the starting line injury-free, healthy and prepared. If we've done our job, it's a party on race day," said Marie Jarrell, a physical therapist in New Lenox and TNT's head marathon coach for Illinois. "But like anything else, runners have to take responsibility as well."

Charities are also starting to encourage runners to raise money for shorter races, such as half-marathons and 10-kilometer runs. And while TNT and the AIDS Marathon have their own training programs and coaches, more than 60 other charities have outsourced their training for the upcoming Chicago Marathon to the Chicago Area Runners Association or other running programs, such as Chicago Endurance Sports.

Charity runners say there's something special about training exclusively with other fundraisers who support the same cause. The experience made such an impact on Lesley Spencer in 2004 that she produced a documentary about five TNT marathon runners called "Why They Run."

Jeanne Tierney Barcelona trained for two marathons and a half-Ironman triathlon with TNT before tackling Ironman Wisconsin with friends she met through the charity group. She's currently training a group of women to run and walk their first 5-kilometer (3.1-mile) race.

"TNT led me through some of my best life accomplishments," said Barcelona, a teacher who invited her students to run mile 22 of each marathon with her. "Though we're not fundraising, I find that donating my time to these women is a great new way for me to give back to the sport and inspire others, just as I was inspired through TNT."