Daniel Rubin | A gentle gift of fleet-footed freedom

Anne Mahlum would pass the men of the Sunday Breakfast Rescue Mission every morning between 5 and 5:30 as she began her iron-woman jog down 13th Street.

They'd wave, cheer her on. And an hour and half later, when the sunny, sprite North Dakotan would make her return pass, they'd ask how many miles she'd logged.

"It was a nice rapport," Mahlum says. "From a distance."

It took a month of friendly smiles before the idea struck her:

The homeless men's running club.

"I thought, 'Why am I just waving and not giving my gift to these guys?' I know how amazing I feel when I start my day like this. This can help them move their lives forward in a literal and figurative way."

In someone else's hands, this notion might have evaporated with the morning sweat, but Mahlum, marketing director for the Committee of Seventy, gives up as easily as the next marathoner.

Soon the 26-year-old had a $500 donation in hand and a partner in Philadelphia Runners, a Center City store. The outfitter has agreed to provide running shoes, collected from customers who'll receive $10 coupons that can be used to buy new ones.

Yesterday, at the civilized hour of 8 a.m., Mahlum was back at the nation's third-oldest rescue mission, explaining the ground rules to the men who'd accepted her invitation for running partners.

She's signed up nine volunteers in the Christian mission's recovery program - those left homeless by run-ins with drugs, alcohol, the law or job and health woes.

Some were clearly athletes, strong and V-shaped. Others hadn't run in decades. Mahlum wanted to know what the men wanted to get out of running.

A big man in the corner - 255 pounds, he 'fessed - said he wanted to quit smoking and eat less.

"I just want to run," said another.

A third said he wanted to run so he could eat more. "I love eating," he explained.

As Mahlum learned about the men, Wylie Belasik of Philadelphia Runners called them forward to measure their feet so they'd have shoes that fit. He gave his own pitch for running.

"It's a fantastic sport because it gives you a sense of accomplishment," said the lanky 23-year-old. "You start here. You get there. All you need is a pair of shoes, shorts and a shirt. And it's a great way to see the city, as opposed to driving around."

A resident named Craig Hall, whose idea of driving around involved his 21-speed bike, told me what he was there for.

"I'm trying to improve my health," said the 55-year-old "old head" with flecks of gray in his goatee. "I think that running is a good time to have a spiritual connection with the creator. I'm hoping it will started me on the road to personal health."

Maybe, he said, running will motivate him to hit the gym. Maybe he won't want a cigarette afterward.

He hasn't run since high school.

"I went through a feeling of 'It's too late to do anything,' " he said. "Now I want to."

Joseph Devine last ran during Jimmy Carter's presidency. In his 30s, when he was working as a welder for Westinghouse Electric Co., he'd often jog home from his job in Lester to 19th and Oxford in North Philadelphia. He's 61 now, the oldest recruit.

As Mahlum spoke of running's restorative properties, Devine described the Sunday Breakfast mission as "a miracle for me."

To be admitted into the mission, the men must pledge to give up substance abuse. In its place, they are offered prayer, three meals and a clean bed. "It helps," said Devine, who's been there nearly 11 months. "Before I came, I had problems all around - mostly with alcohol."

Mahlum's invitation is so popular that 11 or so more mission residents have said they want to join. Dick McMillen, executive director of the mission, cautioned everyone to take small steps; he's waiting to see how the program works for a small group. A women's shelter in Germantown has expressed interest in forming its own club.

Understanding that it's easy to quit in mid-stride, Mahlum has designed an incentive plan for her homeless running club.

Monday, when she hopes to start her three-times-a-week program, after the first mile they'll stop for coffee, maybe a doughnut.

Later on, those who make it five miles will win a gift certificate. More rewards will come after 10 and 15 miles, and so on. The donation from the Booth & Tucker law firm lets Mahlum buy movie tickets, restaurant coupons, whatever else the men want.

What do they want? she asked.

A new TV for the mission, one said.

James Henry Shepard, 56, raised his hand.

"When we get that money, are we allowed to go to an ice cream parlor?"

"Yes," Mahlum responded.

"Who-ee!"