Kenny Nacke never planned to run in today's New York City Marathon, but fate intervened. Nacke's brother Louis, who was known as Joey to his family, was on United Airlines Flight 93 on Sept. 11, 2001, when it went down near Shanksville, Pa.

Now Nacke, and 17 others who had family on that flight, have joined together to become "The Family Runners." They have trained for seven months and will run this marathon in tribute to the ones they lost.

"Anything I can do to keep his memory alive for his sons and my children, I'll do," said Nacke, who lives in Dundalk and is an officer with the Baltimore County Police Department's K-9 unit. "It's not about me, but about him and the other people on that plane. On that flight, my brother and those other passengers never stopped fighting."

Flight 93 was hijacked and believed to be headed for a Washington target. Passengers aboard the flight, aware that planes had struck the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, are thought to have fought with the hijackers shortly before the plane crashed in a rural area about 80 miles southeast of Pittsburgh.

"They joined together, and that's what we're doing," Nacke said. "It's not about achieving any records. It's about finishing. That's my goal, and if I have to crawl to do it, I will."

Last spring, he and his sister, Paula Nacke Jacobs, traveled to Princeton, N.J., to listen to the Flight 93 recorder tape. There, they met Elsa Strong, who had lost her sister Linda Gronlund on the flight.

That day, Strong told Nacke of her idea of running the marathon as a way to honor those lost. He immediately said he'd do it. The group who will run today includes a nephew, a father, a son, a sister-in-law, a wife, a daughter, a granddaughter, a sister and a brother.

"I don't think many of them had run a step before they decided to do this," said Richard Finn, the marathon's public relations director. "They've simply taken up the challenge. They've all been thrown into a terrible situation, and they feel very proud to be able to do this."

Nacke, 41, allowed a smile to break through as he talked about his training. He is 5 feet 10 and 180 pounds. Running isn't something he loves to do. He has done only one other marathon. That was at Disney World in January 2000, to raise money for a local child who had leukemia.

He remembers hitting up his brother Joey for a pledge of $50 for that one.

"Joey was a weightlifter," Nacke said. "He told me I was crazy and nuts. And I promise you, I'm not a marathoner. I did that first one in six hours, and I said I'd never do another one. I'm built more appropriately to catch the bad guys. I run with my dog, Falcon, 100 yards at a time. We're built for speed, not distance."

Sitting in his living room in a pleasant townhouse community, Nacke is surrounded by the warmth of family and pets. As he talks, his two cats, Smokey and Socks, stake out watchful positions. His schnoodle, a white schnauzer-poodle breed named Moohie, rests at his feet. Falcon, a German shepherd and his K-9 unit partner, keeps watch from his kennel in the next room. His wife, Marci, pops in to drop off their daughter Courtney, 11, before she leaves to pick up their son Justin, 13.

Courtney takes a familiar place on her dad's knee for a hug and a kiss before dashing upstairs to play.

"Running has been good for me," Nacke said. "It's provided two, three hours of crying time, time when I don't have to worry about crying in front of my kids."

Tears seemed almost a way of life for a while during that terrible time. The day before his brother died, Nacke had to have his first K-9 partner of nine years, Budweiser, put to sleep. Six weeks after the plane crash, his father died of a heart attack.

"I focus on them when I start my training runs," Nacke said of those he has lost. "I talk to them. On days when I'm tired and I can't reach my goal, I say, 'I'm sorry, but I did the best I could.' One day, I ran 11 miles in 1:45. It was so neat. And I talked to them about that. I talk to them all the time."

Nacke said he isn't sure how he is going to feel today, either while he is running or when he finishes. He hopes it will not be a sad experience. He hopes it will be uplifting. He knows it is going to be hard.

"It's something I have to do, something I want to do," he said. "They're heroes. I don't want to say exactly what was on the flight recorder tape, but my brother was never afraid of any man. He never was. He was the oldest in our family - he'd be 42 - and he took that role very seriously. On that flight, he was making sure we could live our lives as a nation. That was the first battle won in this war. They never gave up, and they succeeded by preventing a greater tragedy. That's what I hold on to every morning.

"They may be gone, stolen from us, but they're always in our hearts. That's why I say it's all about remembering him and the others who gave their lives that day."