BILL BYRNE

Once upon a time (May 1990, to be exact), Bill and Shelagh Byrne moved to Asheville with a dream: to open their own restaurant and start a new chapter in their lives together. They were high school sweethearts who had been married for seven years and backpacked all over the country, but starting a business together in a remote mountain town was by far the most daring adventure they had yet undertaken. When they signed their lease 14 years ago, every other storefront on Asheville’s main thoroughfare was empty, and Pack Square was literally a hole in the ground (the old Pack Place movie theater had just been bulldozed).

“It was definitely a risk,” says Byrne, now 48. “We sold our house, took out the biggest possible loans, and put every dime into the restaurant. We endured several years of 90-hour work-weeks, but we were determined to make it work.” And it did. Today, Café on the Square is one of Asheville’s most celebrated restaurants. Byrne sold the restaurant a few years ago.

His irrepressibly positive spirit, boyish charm, and dedication to community have made him one of Asheville’s favorite sons. Byrne has helped protect Asheville parks and public spaces, helped feed and shelter the homeless, and served on numerous community boards, including a stint as chairperson of Bele Chere, the largest outdoor festival in the Southeast.

Somehow, Byrne has also found time to compile an impressive resume of athletic accomplishments, including five marathons (3:11 personal best) and six finishes of the region’s toughest mountain run, the 17.8-mile Shut-In Trail Race (2:48 personal best).

But if you ask Bill Byrne what he is most proud of, he’ll boast about his two sons: Christopher, 9, and Sean, 5.

“They have illuminated our lives,” says Byrne. “Every day, they remind me that the world is still a magical place.”

Their North Asheville home is located in a close-knit community near Weaver Park. The Byrnes often bike to school, play ball at the park, or walk to the ice cream store after dinner.

But here’s where the fairy tale ends and the nightmare begins.

One week before running the New York City Marathon last November, Byrne noticed a swollen lymph node in his neck. He assumed it was a symptom of an oncoming cold, but when the lump persisted through the holidays, he decided to have it checked out. A biopsy brought the worst news imaginable: non-Hodgkins lymphoma, an incurable cancer of the lymphatic system. The tumor on his neck was removed, but smaller slow-growing tumors have spread to other lymph nodes in his body.

Such indolent tumors are not as responsive to conventional chemotherapy, so Byrne is using more holistic approaches, including acupuncture, nutrition, hot baths, and exercise-usually an hour-long bike ride or a moderate six-mile trail run. Breaking a sweat stimulates the immune system, which can keep his bodily defenses stronger. But exercise’s emotional therapy is just as valuable to Byrne.

“Running has always been something spiritual for me. There’s a greater power that gives me strength, and I feel it most intensely when I’m out there running. In that sense, I guess running is kind of like prayer. It’s a way for me to reflect and give thanks and get in touch with what’s important.”

What’s important these days? A walk with his wife, holding hands with his sons, Little League practice, Donut Day at school.

“I’ve always appreciated how lucky I am,” says Byrne. “Now more than ever, I cherish the people in my life. My wife has been a rock through all of this. My kids have been amazing. Together, we’ve got it beat, one day at a time.”

LYNN EDWARDS

For most of her life, Lynn Edwards was an out-of-shape housewife who smoked a pack a day. Today, at age 81, she is a fitness instructor, marathoner, touring cyclist, and former world record holder at the Ironman Triathlon. She also survived ovarian cancer at age 80, which she credits largely to her fitness. How did she make such an astonishing mid-life transformation?

“My best friend beat me in tennis one day,” she explains. “Right then and there, at age 55, I decided to start running.”

Edwards began with a few laps around the block, then a few miles in her neighborhood. Before she knew it, she was running six miles a day and registered to run a marathon. “Everyone can do something,” Edwards explains. “All they gotta do is make up their minds to do it.”

After completing a few marathons, Edwards was ready to try ultra-distance cycling.

“I hadn’t been on a bike since I was a teenager, says Edwards. “But I wasn’t gonna let that stop me.”

So, in her late 50s, Edwards began pedaling with a group of younger women on long-distance cycling tours from Iowa to Maine, through the Rockies, across Nova Scotia, and throughout Europe.

By the time she had reached age 65, Edwards had been swimming for years, cycled all over the globe, and run several marathons. There was only one thing left to do: put them all together in an Iron-distance triathlon.

Edwards was 66 when she attempted her first Ironman, which ended in frustration and failure. The 2.4-mile ocean swim left her coughing up water and spitting up blood; she had to withdraw from the race and was hospitalized with bacterial pneumonia for over a week.

“I had never been so disappointed in myself,” recalls Edwards. “But it only made me even more determined.”

Soon after, she and her husband moved to Brevard, N.C., the perfect training ground for a triathlete: She swam in pristine lakes, biked along quiet backcountry roads, and ran shaded trails through the mountains.

She stepped back to the Hawaii Ironman starting line at age 69, confident in her training but still feeling unsure about the race itself.

“I was surrounded by all these young, beautiful bodies. I kept asking myself, ‘What am I doing here?’ I must seem like a crazy old lady to these people.”

Once the starting gun fired, Edwards dove in the water and forgot all about her doubts. She completed her first Ironman Hawaii Championship in 15 hours, becoming the oldest female in the world at the time to ever complete an Ironman.

What’s even more amazing is that she did it again the next year at age 70.

In addition to triathlons, Edwards dreamed up a new athletic feat for herself: complete a marathon in every state. At age 80, she had completed about 20 state marathons, when suddenly she would receive an even bigger challenge: ovarian cancer.

“As an athlete, you feel invincible. You feel like nothing can stop you. But cancer can strike even the fittest, most health-conscious people without warning. Suddenly, I was reminded of my mortality. I had never been so scared in my life.”

She endured seven weeks of chemotherapy, depression, and despair. One thing kept her from completely giving up: running. She ran through six of the seven weeks of chemo.

“In that final week, I felt like a zombie, I was so medicated. I’d never taken any kind of medication, and suddenly I was on all sorts of drugs.”

So she decided to do the unthinkable: she dropped all of her medications.

“When you start using too many medications, you can’t fight your way out of a paper bag. I decided: Either my body is gonna carry me through this, or I’m gonna go out on my own.”

Two years later, Edwards is off medications and running six miles a day, though she has to soak her feet for several hours afterwards, due to the side effects of her cancer treatment. She continues to compete in races and has resumed leading her fitness classes, which she started 15 years ago.

“Fitness has been crucial in my comeback,” says Edwards. “You’ve gotta listen to your body, and in my case, all the medications were drowning out the messages. Our bodies can heal and restore themselves if we take care of them properly and pay attention to what they need.”

CHRIS COBY

Health has always been an important part of Chris Coby’s life-as a high school cross country runner, college rugby player, Army Reserve master fitness trainer, and most recently, as a marathoner and father of two active, outdoor-minded children.

So, at age 36, when he went in for a check-up, he didn’t expect his doctor to diagnose him with testicular cancer.

“I was getting a scrotal ultrasound, and I heard the technician groan. That’s when I knew it was bad,” says Coby.

A tumor in his testicle had metastasized to his kidneys. Immediately, Coby, a fifth-grade teacher who lives in Wake Forest, N.C., was sent to Duke Cancer Center, where he underwent a seven-hour surgery and spent three days in intensive care. During the two week-long rounds of chemotherapy that followed, Coby spent much of the time with his head over the toilet vomiting platinum from his cancer treatments.

During the long hours in the hospital recovery room that followed, he was haunted by the groans of two terminally ill patients in the beds beside him. To pass the time, Coby watched his IV bags drip, guessing how many hours it would take for the bag to empty. It reminded him of passages from Lance Armstrong’s book It’s Not About the Bike, which chronicles his harrowing battle with testicular cancer. Coby hoped to show similar grit and fortitude in his recovery-both for himself and the people who were supporting him.

“I was so inspired by the people who helped me through it. My wife was an Iron woman-she was my foundation. And the Wake Forest community-the way they reached out….Meals would just show up at our house, teachers [from the school where I worked] donated their vacation time, friends in the community watched the kids for us. I was determined not to let these people down.”

On October 11, 2000, Chris Coby was declared cancer-free by his oncologist. Three years later, on October 11, 2003, Coby completed his first Ironman-fittingly, the Blue Devil Iron Triathlon, which benefits the Duke Cancer Center where he was treated.

Coby had never even attempted a triathlon, but that didn’t stop him from completing the Blue Devil. At the starting line, he said to himself: “A lot of people need to see you finish this.” He breezed through the swim, but struggled during the 112-mile bike ride and marathon run. His feet and legs were swollen with fluid-a lingering side effect of his cancer treatments. During those long, lonely hours biking and running, he recalled his long, lonely hours in the hospital.

“Minutes passed like slow drips from the IV bag,” says Coby. “But then, as I was biking, I heard the groaning voices of those dying patients beside me in the hospital. They reminded me how blessed I was. Compared to their suffering, my Ironman was easy.”

Coby endured the 112-mile ride, but he still wasn’t sure he could finish the marathon-until he saw a large banner that read, “Live Strong, Mr. Coby!” His fifth grade students had gathered along the five-loop marathon course to cheer him on. Even the race announcer got into it, announcing him as “Number 14-Mr. Coby!” each time he passed the grandstand.

Coby also drew strength from the race itself.

“The motto of the Blue Devil Ironman is about hope. That is an obligation of the cured: to show others that there is hope,” says Coby. “It’s what got me to the starting line, and it’s what got me to the finish.”

At age 40, Coby completed his second Blue Devil Ironman this past October in 14:34:38, shaving an hour from his 2003 time and-more importantly for Coby-raising funds for the Duke Cancer Center.

“I sometimes take my health and my recovery for granted. The Blue Devil Triathlon brings me back to where I was, so I can’t forget how lucky I am. It puts everything in perspective: If I’m breathing, it’s a good day. And each day is so important.”

LEE READ & LEIGHTON’S LADIES

Mothers would do anything for their sons. Just ask Lee Read. On the same day that Read’s son, Leighton, was diagnosed with leukemia, she coincidentally received a postcard in the mail from the Leukemia Society’s Team in Training program, announcing a 100-mile bike ride to benefit leukemia patients. Read knew what she had to do: she signed up for the program right away.

“I’ve never really been an athlete. I’ve stayed pretty busy working and raising a family. But I never thought I’d be biking 100 miles.”

Through Team in Training, Read received expert coaching and training for her first century ride-The Seagull Century along the Maryland coast. As part of the program, Read raised money for the Leukemia Society, which helps find cures for patients like her son.

Read asked her sister, Beth McDevitt, and her friend, Mary-Dudley Eggleston, to join her; together, they became Leighton’s Ladies. The threesome from the Charlottesville area created pamphlets featuring Leighton, which quickly attracted donors from across the region.

As the money started rolling in, the pounds started rolling off. Leighton’s Ladies rode virtually every weekend together through the Blue Ridge Mountains or along the Parkway.

During one of those Parkway rides, they were brazen enough to approach a gang of motorcyclists about donating to the Leukemia Society on behalf of Leighton. It turned out that one of the motorcyclist’s fathers had just died of lymphoma; he made a cash donation to Leighton’s Ladies right on the spot.

Leighton’s Ladies wore special race shirts listing the names of victims and survivors of blood-related cancer. It was a cold, rainy, windy ride, but they persevered, completing the century together in about nine hours.

This year, Leighton’s Ladies returned to train for the Marine Corps Marathon. Read completed her first 26.2 in 5:35:54 using an alternating run-walk approach. Even more spectacular was Leighton’s Ladies’ fundraising: they’ve raised over $50,000 for the Leukemia Society.

“I was devastated when Leighton was first diagnosed. I had to do something. This was the answer.”

Leighton’s leukemia is in remission. After two years of chemotherapy treatments, blood tests, steroids, and spinal injections, he is less than a year away from a “complete cure,” though he’ll be tested and monitored for the rest of his life. Now six-years-old, Leighton began kindergarten this past fall.

“He’s an active, happy kid. He’s not a wallowing victim of self-pity. He has a positive, uplifting spirit that rubs off on everyone around him.”

Lee Read’s healthy lifestyle has also been contagious. Her daughter has joined the cross country team, and her husband is now contemplating his first marathon.

“It’s amazing how good running and biking are for your spirit as well as your body. It’s really helped me through a tough time, and I know it has benefited my family and especially Leighton-though he sometimes complains that his mommy always smells like sweat.”

by Will Harlan