A very special Phila. Marathon competitor

About 16,000 runners are expected to line up for the start of the Philadelphia Marathon this morning, and each one has a story to tell.

But perhaps no story is more amazing and inspiring than that of Charlie Dickens, who is deaf and autistic.

Dickens, 17, a 10th grader at the Pennsylvania School for the Deaf (PSD) in Germantown, will tackle the 26.2-mile endurance challenge for the second time. Last year, he became weak and nauseous at mile 17 and had to quit at mile 21.

Today will be different, he vows.

"My goal is to finish," he says with fluent hand signs, spelling out finish, letter by letter, for emphasis. "And to make the Panthers proud." (PSD's athletic teams are called the Panthers.)

Dickens will run with two other PSD students and two of his "running leaders," or volunteer coaches: Becky Ritter, 24, and Kate Strouse, 29, both teachers at the school.

He will join 65 teenagers from across the city in the marathon as part of Students Run Philly Style, a program that uses marathon training to help students conquer struggles with self-worth, depression, obesity, anger and violence.

"I have known Charlie for two years now and watched him go from a really shy, timid young man to somebody completely different," says Heather McDanel, director of Students Run Philly Style, which is sponsored by the National Nursing Centers Consortium and based on a program begun in Los Angeles in 1990. "He has more confidence, more life, and is so excited about everything."

PSD launched its running team in March 2007. Dickens, who had played junior-varsity basketball, signed up because of his affinity for running. His father, also Charlie, 37, was a standout cross-country runner at Community College of Philadelphia, and his mother, Kiviette Jefferson, 35, ran track at Mastbaum High.

"I used to take Charlie out running with me," recalls his father, a social worker who lives in University City with Dickens' younger half-brother, Jabreel. "When he was about 10, he'd wake up on weekends and say, 'Dad, let's go running!' I knew early on he would be a good runner. He has long arms and long legs."

Dickens has finished the 10-mile Broad Street Run and the Philadelphia Distance Run half-marathon twice, as well as several shorter races. Volunteers at PSD served as running leaders, helping him and his teammates improve their technique and stamina at practices Wednesday afternoons and Saturdays. Sometimes they ran on Forbidden Drive; on weekends, they often convened at the Philadelphia Museum of Art for a trot around the river-drive loop.

Along the way, Dickens began to develop in more ways than just athletically. Before he began running, he was socially awkward and reluctant to make eye contact, behavior typical of autism. He struggled to express himself, especially with unfamiliar people, and could not place experiences in a broader context. It was difficult for him to grasp such abstract concepts as cause and effect, past and future, and to adapt to strange or changing situations.

His progress since then: "Dramatic," Ritter says.

"When he first began running, he would come up to me in the hall and say, 'Running, running, running,' because he associated me with running. Now he asks whether I'll be at the next practice, or he'll tell me a story about something that happened while running over the weekend."

To put it in computer terms, it's as though Dickens' brain had created a file with the name "running." And that file is fast filling up with running-related information that is no longer just a hodgepodge of random bits and pieces, but increasingly ordered by a fabric of affiliations and logic.

He also has become much more assured socially.

"He's no longer afraid to approach hearing kids his age," says Kimberly LeClair, 36, another PSD teacher and volunteer running leader.

Sometimes the PSD team practices with athletes from other schools. Dickens has become outgoing and gregarious, writing notes to newfound hearing friends and flirting with some of the girls.

"He has really, really opened up and come out of his shell," his father says. "When you see him running, he's a whole different person. He takes on a whole different personality."

"It's a blessing," his mother says of the running program. "He wants to go out now and mingle with the crowd. He's not embarrassed that he's impaired. It's amazing."

As a runner, Dickens has become more focused, consistent and independent, Ritter says. His coaches feel more comfortable about letting him go off alone during practice and run unaccompanied during races.

He also has become much less self-absorbed.

"Before, it was all about me, me, me," Ritter says. "Now, he's encouraging others and is part of the team."

Last fall's Philadelphia Marathon took place on a cold, rainy day. Near Manayunk, Dickens was beginning to "bonk," to feel woozy and wobbly. His running leader, David Meredith, 47, who was keeping him company stride for stride, came to his aid.

"You were consoling me," Dickens recalls, addressing Meredith during a conversation with some of his PSD coaches. "You gave me a trash bag to keep me warm."

Such a recollection is ordinary for a normal person. For Dickens, it's significant in what it reveals about his awareness of others and his ability to recognize empathy and compassion.

"He gets up every Saturday excited and ready to go," says his mother, who works as a security guard and lives in North Philadelphia with Dickens' half-sister, Breyell Campbell, and his beloved great-grandmother Olivia Jefferson, who often ferries him to practice. "He doesn't want to be one second late for practice. He likes to be a big brother and mentor to the others on his team. He's a very caring and emotional person. He doesn't tease anybody. He pushes the students to be stronger, like him."

Dickens loves running for many reasons - the exhilaration of exercise, the sense of accomplishment, the pride of being PSD's top distance man. He also prizes the medals and trophies, tangible symbols of his achievements.

"He has a dresser full of medals," his mother says. "He wears them around the house and sometimes sleeps with them, and he shows them to everybody who walks in the door."

On a recent Wednesday afternoon, after stretching and taking a practice run with Bob Velarde, 40, another one of his running leaders, Dickens, who has a bouncy, loping stride, was euphoric. He smiled with delight when his best running buddy, Dominick Booker-Bates, 15, a tall, rangy lad, happened by.

Dickens' hands moved rapidly as he recounted favorite running memories and stated his plans for today's big test.

"If Dominick is hurting, I'll encourage him," he signed. "If I'm hurting, he'll encourage me. I'm not going to stop this time. I'm not going to be lazy. I'll keep running, and I'll be pushing the others. Dominick and I are both going to finish together."