A running style that stands out

Even without coming in first place, these runners are hard to forget

In the moments before the start of the Army Ten-Miler this month, Sgt. 1st Class Don Francisco didn't exactly blend in at the front of the pack. As the elites leaned forward with solemn faces, Francisco energetically squatted up and down in his star-spangled red, white and blue ensemble, offered a high-five to a kid on the sidelines and warmed up his fife.

Yep, I mean the Colonial-era flute, which the 44-year-old from Alexandria has played for years as part of the Army's Old Guard Fife and Drum Corps. About a decade ago, his dentist joked that Francisco should play the instrument while running. That's how the fifer became a long-running (and fast-running) staple of the race, tooting out an average of three songs per mile (sample repertoire: "Grand Old Flag," "Inspector Gadget" theme song and the theme from "Rocky.")

As Flute Dude, Francisco has earned a top spot among Washington's growing ranks of runners who do more than just put one foot in front of the other. He leads a pack that includes the guys preparing to clip-clop down 17th Street in Dupont Circle on Tuesday for the annual High Heel Race and the legions of fun-runners who are gathering pumpkin suits, Pilgrim outfits and elf hats for the battery of holiday-themed events over the next few months.

Chances are -- with the exception of the cross-dressing High Heel Race champ -- most of the winners will opt for more-boring attire. But coming in first isn't always the point. Over the past few years, as running has transformed from being the sport of naturally nimble elites to a welcoming activity for anyone interested in a physical challenge, races have become less stuffy affairs. And if there's one way to make it easier to meet people while putting a smile on their faces (and yours), it's wearing something or adopting a style that makes you stand out.

No one does that better than the hot-to-trot trio of the Juggler, the Jump Roper and Tuxedo Man, who will all be participating in the Marine Corps Marathon on Sunday. If you've done a road race in the D.C. area, chances are you've run into one of them and the unexpected sight has given you a boost of energy.

After all, how can you not forget some of the pain while watching Barry Goldmeier (a.k.a. the Juggler) keep a whopping five balls airborne during races? "I just thought I could do this," says the 45-year-old statistician from Rockville, explaining why he picked up the hobby 20 years ago.

He knew he had the talent, but he didn't put it on display until his co-workers at the U.S. Commodity Futures Trading Commission were putting together a team for the Capital Challenge, a goofy three-mile competition between media and government types. "I told them, 'Well, okay, but I'm going to go really slow and juggle.' They thought I was kidding," he says.

He wasn't. And after 15-plus years of racing, he has built up to juggling in more than a dozen marathons a year. It sounds exhausting, but he says he gets through it by never fretting about his time. "If I go 15 minutes slower, it's no big deal because I'm the only guy juggling," he explains. "If I go in five hours or six hours, I'm still that first juggler."

His mentor, Carlos Coffman, is always the first jump-roper. The 48-year-old from Bowie has been raising eyebrows at races for 20 years with his unusual prop, but he makes it very clear he doesn't consider himself a sideshow. "It's not a trick, not a gimmick. It's a full-blown exercise program," Coffman says.

He's a former regular runner who injured his knee, and after experimenting with ways to find a low-impact replacement, he developed a backward-throwing rope technique called IROPE that allows him to speed walk while getting an upper-body burn. That doesn't mean, however, that it doesn't look really cool when he nonchalantly throws his arms in different patterns and swings the string under his feet with just a hint of a hop. "A lot of people find it unbelievable," he says.

Similarly, plenty of folks have been flabbergasted to see Greg Taylor wearing a tuxedo shirt, bow tie and black silk shorts, as he has for hundreds of miles over 15 years. It's been an easy way for the 55-year-old fitness trainer from Largo to break the ice. "I'm not the fastest guy, but I'm the one they'll remember," he says. "And there's more roaring for me at the end than if I'd finished first."

All of these guys have slightly different reasons for their out-of-the-ordinary habits, but the common thread is the feedback from people they've helped. "It's a matter of giving and receiving," says Francisco, who runs for the Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors, a group that supports the families of fallen soldiers. By playing requests, he keeps other runners entertained, and the cheers he gets in return bolster his mood.

Corley Heiserman, 38, a fellow member of the TAPS team, explained his plan to me pre-race: "I'm going to stick next to him, and he's going to keep me motivated the whole way."

It worked. He crossed the finish line just before Francisco, who sprinted the last few yards while playing a final tune.