Photo courtesy of www.brightroom.com.

You have got to get up pretty early in the morning to beat District of Columbia Mayor Adrian Fenty. And then you have got to run hard just to keep up.

I recently had the pleasure of joining the mayor and his entourage for their regular morning run. Because I did not know exactly where I was going, I arrived early but had no trouble identifying his house The security booth and police cruiser idling on the street were giveaways. Within 15 minutes, nearly a dozen of the mayor's friends, colleagues, multisport training partners, and one very fit security guy, were stretched and ready on the sidewalk.

At exactly six, the mayor emerged, appearing slightly groggy, unshaven, and wearing baggy shorts, and a retro, white cotton T- shirt, in colorful contrast to the rest of us, awash in the latest day-glo, wicking fabrics. Within a minute, we were on our way.

While the mayor is acutely aware of his image, the group outing is hardly some public relations stunt. Runners have gathered at Fenty's house since long before he became mayor. As a District council member, Fenty regularly participated in area runs and races. His parents, Phil and Jan Fenty, have owned for more than 20 years Fleet Feet in Adams Morgan, itself a nerve center of DC running. And while the mayor (37) is an accomplished runner, a single discipline is not enough to contain his athletic energy; he regularly incorporates biking and swimming into his workout regimen.

In the first 100 days of his administration, the official Fenty seemed to be everywhere at once, setting the pace on the city's public agenda while guiding and cajoling the media and constituents on everything from schools to pools. As if that was not enough to make him the city's busiest citizen, Fenty ramped up a personal fitness agenda that would make any other elected official collapse with exhaustion.

Area runners were not surprised to see Fenty make his mayoral running debut at the St. Patrick's Day 8K downtown, just a short jog from his office on Pennsylvania Avenue. Many, however, were surprised the mayor ran as fast as he did, placing 126th out of nearly 3,500 runners and averaging 6:49 per mile.

"Bring on all mayors!" Fenty joked after crossing the finish line.

The next weekend, Fenty appeared at RFK Stadium as the official starter for the National Marathon, then ran the whole way as a training effort in 4:08:03. Just eight days later, Fenty ran the Cherry Blossom Ten Mile in 1:08:34, close to the personal best he set as a teenager.

"I had a good week of training," Fenty said, apparently unfazed by his 26.2-mile workout one week earlier, "and then I tapered down on Friday and Saturday."

On May 6, Fenty ran the Sallie Mae 10K in 43:45. But the climax to his frenetic spring season came two weeks later at the Columbia Triathlon, a 1,500-meter swim, 41K bike, and 10K run, all of which the mayor completed in 2:37:06, placing him 235th of 968 competitors.

My run with the mayor was scheduled for the week after the triathlon, in which several members of the group had also participated. So rather than the school takeover and the much publicized city fires, the chatter as we filed through the empty streets focused on the prior weekend's splits, transition times, and recovery. Soon, we entered Rock Creek Park, Frederick Law Olmsted's homage to Washington, the city's public playpen, and Fenty's back yard.

The group fell in, single file, behind the unquestioned alpha male who determined the route, pace, and distance. "My dad showed me all these trails," Fenty said as he made his way up and down hills, nimbly picking his way over roots and rocks.

While deference was accorded the mayor and some of the talk was tangentially political, the nine miles we ran that morning felt more like a typical workout with friends. There was plenty of good-natured kidding and teasing, talk about family - the mayor and his wife have twin seven-year-old sons - as well as wistful expressions of athletic moments past, and with luck and training, those still to come.

Someone gave the mayor props for his athletic success, given the nearly overwhelming constraints of his schedule. As with any serious runner, he said he tries to fit in what he can, even sneak in an extra workout whenever possible. "I do have a full-time job," he said with all appropriate irony.

A few of the runners fell back and ran a shorter course; others branched off and ended up doing more. Eventually everyone ended up back at the mayor's house, where, after handshakes and mutual congratulations, the talk turned to the next morning's run, and the possibility of a bike ride or swim that evening after work.

With promises to make arrangements - the mayor is a notorious Black Berry communicator - Fenty said quick goodbyes and went inside. His other "full-time job" beckoned.