SCOTT DETROW, HOST:
A homeless shelter and rehab center outside of Chicago is using marathons to help people get back on their feet. Bob Smietana of Religion News Service has the story.
BOB SMIETANA: Jose Vasquez spent years struggling with alcohol. Last summer, he feared his life was slipping away.
JOSE VASQUEZ: One night I was sleeping in the back of a pickup truck. And I told myself, I don't want to do this anymore.
SMIETANA: In June, Vasquez checked into a Christian shelter and rehab center near Chicago called Wayside Cross. Along with food and a place to sleep, the program offers classes, counseling and a running program, which helps train residents to run a half marathon. Vasquez decided to give it a try.
VASQUEZ: I remember the first day running, waking up, I was excited.
SMIETANA: The first training run was less than a mile. Things went poorly.
VASQUEZ: My lungs were out of air. I was gasping the way back. (Laughter) I wanted to quit the next day, to be honest.
SMIETANA: Few of the Wayside runners had ever run more than a mile. Some had been in jail. Others had struggled with addictions. When things got tough, Vasquez remembered some advice one of his coaches had given.
VASQUEZ: Man, Jose, all you got to do is just show up, and you already won half the battle.
SMIETANA: The idea behind Up and Running Again is that running and friendship, plus a bit of faith, can change your life.
STEVE TIERNEY: Yeah, you're sweating together. You're, like, kind of in pain together. It's like, hey, you're going to do it. I'm going to do it. We're going to do this together. And I think there's just this camaraderie.
SMIETANA: That's Steve Tierney, a volunteer coach who started Up and Running Again in 2010. The program now trains residents at about 10 shelters nationwide. Four times a week, Vasquez and the other runners got up at 5 a.m. to train. They started with a mile and worked their way up to 10. Now, it's the night before the big race. The runners and coaches are car loading on pasta and garlic bread in the church hall. Bruce McEvoy, one of the coaches, gets up and reminds them just how far they've come.
BRUCE MCEVOY: We put a lot of running hours together. We put hours, more hours than miles. We started walking and running. Remember that? Walk five, run five? I mean, that's almost laughable now, right?
(LAUGHTER)
TIERNEY: This is the spot you want to be, right here. You're in the start line now.
SMIETANA: It's just before 7 the next morning, on a warm fall Sunday. And a sea of runners is gathered at St. Mary's Park in St. Charles, Illinois. They're waiting for the start of the Fox Valley Marathon. Runners bounce on their feet and stretch, and Vasquez is getting nervous.
VASQUEZ: I don't know. It's going to be a tough one. It's hitting me now (laughter).
SMIETANA: The horn blows.
(SOUNDBITE OF AIR HORN BLOWING)
SMIETANA: And the runners are off. After the excitement passes, comes the real test. Right about mile 10.
RON PRESTON: At about 10, they're like, I can't do this anymore.
SMIETANA: That's Ron Preston, one of the Wayside coaches. About two hours after the start, Vasquez rounds the last corner. His Wayside coaches and teammates are cheering him on. A huge smile is on his face, and he high-fives everyone he sees. He's good, but tired. His legs...
VASQUEZ: They feel like noodles al dente (laughter).
SMIETANA: But Vasquez says his spirit feels great.
VASQUEZ: I mean, we made it. We all put our hard work in it, and it's just - it's amazing.
UNIDENTIFIED PERSON: We did it together.
VASQUEZ: Yeah, we did it together.
UNIDENTIFIED PERSON: We did it together.
SMIETANA: And Vasquez and his fellow runners say they'll stick together. They plan to run again in 2026. For NPR News, I'm Bob Smietana in Woodstock, Illinois.
DETROW: This story was produced through a collaboration between NPR and Religion News Service.
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