The first and most obvious question upon hearing that an obsessed Philadelphia ultrarunner has created a 50K “Rocky Run” to recreate, in real life and on real streets, the “training run” montage from Rocky II is: Why not the one from the original Rocky?

First of all, the 1976 original Rocky is the only production out of the 47 movies in the series (joking) and the one Broadway musical (not joking) to actually be any good, and people don't go huffing and puffing up the steps to the Philadelphia Museum of Art, flinging their arms in the air, because of the second movie's cheesy montage, in which Rocky is followed by children all through Philly. No: They do it to recreate Rocky's original triumph, getting in shape, achieving now what he couldn't before, as he leaps the steps two at a time en route to his destiny!

“Well, the first one is pretty short,” explained Rebecca Barber, the 27-year-old ultrarunner who's organizing the third annual Rocky 50K Fat Ass Run for December. “Plus he does all these crunches and stuff. If we used Rocky I, we'd have to do more boxing and less running.”

The Rocky 50K arose, as it seems like a lot of things do in ultrarunning, due to happenstance and somebody saying, “Why not?” First happenstance: Barber, who's run 15 marathons and 14 ultras, completed her first 100-miler in 2012 in the unlikely locale of New York City. Running 100 miles through the streets of a major metropolis struck her as a fun and comprehensive way to get to know it…and it was soon after (second happenstance) that one Dan McQuade published an article in Philadelphia magazine. Mr. McQuade loves the Rocky II training montage best—no accounting for taste—and went to the trouble of figuring out that if Rocky actually ran in each of the iconic locales pictured, in order of appearance, he would go on a bizarre, down and back, up and in peregrination of Philadelphia that would encompass about 50 kilometers. Mr. McQuade, although a runner, finished his article by writing, “This is one long run. I don't recommend anyone try it.” Which is when Barber said, “Why not?”

She announced it with a Facebook group page and a website, and printed out detailed turn-by-turn directions, and in December 2013 the first ever Rocky 50K weaved its way through Philly in the fictional boxer's fictional footsteps. It was a “fat ass” race in ultra argot, meaning that it was organized but unsupported. No timers, no water stops, no medals, just a bunch of people starting out at the same time for the same destination. And of course, there would be no entry fee, though participants were urged to donate shoes for Back on My Feet, a running program for the local homeless population. About 150 people ran in the first Rocky 50K, many finishing in about five and a half hours or so, and some small number of them ran part of the race in Rocky's trademark, if somewhat warm, gray sweats and red headband. It was great fun, says Barber, and such an improbable hoot that it was written up on the front page of The Wall Street Journal.

Which was why, Barber thinks, she got a letter from an attorney for MGM—a movie studio responsible for The Hobbit trilogy, its legacy James Bond movies, and Hot Tub Time Machine—which happens to own intellectual property rights to the Rocky films. The letter informed Barber that “MGM recently became aware that you are infringing on MGM's intellectual property rights in Rocky…” and went on to instruct her to remove the name “Rocky” and any hint of any connection to the movie and related properties from her advertising, event, etc., etc., etc., and that “failure to comply with these demands will cause MGM to take appropriate legal action.”

Barber reacted, she says, by panicking. (“I just knew they have lots of money and I don't.”) That panic turned to anger, and maybe a small amount of pride, when she discovered that just days after The Wall Street Journal article appeared, somebody registered the web domain for “RockyBalboaRun.com.” It turned out to be a sports event producer licensed by MGM to create an official Rocky Run 5K and 10K. It's got all kinds of “official” Rocky imagery, with a nice medal and a T-shirt and registration fees running up to $65 for the 10K. Yay, Official Rocky.

But runners come in all types, and one type in Barber's community is an intellectual property lawyer. He told her that while specific characters can be trademarked, as can imagery and individual creative works, MGM can't simply claim to own everything with the name “Rocky.” Do they own Rocky Road ice cream? Rocky and Bullwinkle? Rocky relationships? Of course not. So the 2014 Rocky 50K went off with its name intact—albeit with its logo changed from an outline of a boxer with his hands in the air to a generic pair of boxing gloves—and despite the miserable weather, Barber and 150 or so friends again retraced the steps of Rocky (II), and in the doing of it collected 1,200 pounds of shoes for Back on My Feet.

Thus on November 14 of this year, the official Rocky Run 5K and 10K will start and finish in front of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, with a compact out-and-back course along the Schuylkill River, although, as the website notes, competitors will not be able to run up the museum steps. Still, to all the participants we shall say, “Congratulations! Good for you for doing the run, and enjoy your medal, you earned it!”

And then, three weeks later, 150 or more ultrarunners will gather at the house that Rocky Balboa “bought” with his winnings from the fight in Rocky…and then, without support, without T-shirts, without swag or medals or bags, they will retrace Rocky's impossible, joyous run out and back, up and down, the streets of Philadelphia, from South Philly to the Italian Market to the B Street Bridge to Kelly Drive then downtown and then right up the Benjamin Franklin Parkway to the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, and then they will run up those steps as God intended, and there shall be arm pumping and shadowboxing, and the hearts of the people shall be made glad. MGM may own the intellectual property rights to the Rocky trademark and character, but Barber and her friends have conjured something much closer to the spirit of Rocky. (The original one.)

Because one of the many reasons every movie after the original suffered and is diminished in memory is that, in this life, the story of being a hero will always be less interesting than the story of becoming one. (This is also why The Matrix sequels sucked.) When we first met Rocky in 1976, he was out of shape, out of luck, out of options, and due to random chance and a lot of hard work—plus tumblers full of raw eggs—he transformed himself into something greater than he was and achieved something nobody ever imagined he could. That is the story of every human in the larger sense, and every runner in the specific sense. The training montage in Rocky is much better than the one in Rocky II because in Rocky, we don't know yet that he can do it. Neither does he.

Rebecca Barber started her free, rewardless, supportless race in the same spirit, and in the same spirit it goes on. “As cheesy as it sounds,” she says, “we're 150 underdogs!”

Damn straight, Rebecca. And: “Yo! ADRIAN!”

* * *

Peter Sagal is a 3:09 marathoner and the host of NPR's Wait, Wait…Don't Tell Me! For more, view the entire Road Scholar column.