I can’t compete with the verbs in the following paragraph, so I’ll let the New York Post reporter tell about Durham’s Charlie Engle, a world-renowned ultramarathon runner, whose memoir, “Running Man,” is just out.
“Early one morning in 1991, Charlie Engle paired his two passions: cocaine and running.
“Hours before the sunrise start of the Big Sur Marathon, Engel, then 28, packed his nose with blow in the men’s room of a bar in Monterey, Calif. Somehow, he made it to the start line of the notoriously hilly race. He puked at the halfway point and shotgunned a beer near the finish, but still managed to complete it in a very respectable time, just under 3 1/2 hours.
“Immediately after, he was looking to get high. ‘I drove to my dealer’s house while still in my running clothes.’ The pusher was shocked that Engle hadn’t had a heart attack. ‘Competing in one of the world’s toughest races while completely loaded is idiotic,’ Engle told the Post in hindsight.
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One more year, and he quit using. He kept running, but his troubles weren’t over.
His memoir chronicles the time he spent in prison, the breakup of his marriage, a new relationship and the high it gives him to run with his two grown sons.