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The news seemed shocking at first, like finding out the church's bingo games were fixed or hearing that the sweet old lady next door was growing cannabis in the basement. The women's winner of the 2006 Grandma's Marathon had been unmasked as a drug cheat.

Duluth's beloved road race, the embodiment of small-town charm and hospitality for 30 years, had officially been dragged into the seamy side of modern sport.

Halina Karnatsevich blew into town like a Belarussian con artist, soaking up the praise of the locals -- and laying claim to the winner's purse of $8,000 -- knowing she was perpetrating a fraud. She never got that money; she was disqualified and banned from competition for two years upon the December confirmation of her positive test for stanozolol, a steroid.

Grandma's race officials could have been defensive or embarrassed. They could have followed the course of so many professional sports organizations, choosing to remain naive about the proliferation of performance-enhancing drugs. Instead, the folks who run this quaint, friendly race faced this hard truth in a most constructive manner: They got tough.

They asked USA Track & Field to test Grandma's elite runners at Saturday's race, the first time in the event's 31-year history that drug tests have been administered in back-to-back years. The Grandma's Marathon board of directors also unanimously approved its first drug policy ever. It's hard to predict how much of a deterrent those actions will be, but give credit to Grandma's officials for taking a stand against the desecration of their race and their sport.

"We've gotten nothing but accolades," executive director Scott Keenan said about the testing and the policy. "The elite athletes want a clean sport. This sends a very tough message to elite athletes all over the world that if you use performance-enhancing drugs, don't come to Grandma's."

Keenan said Grandma's officials request drug testing every year from USA Track & Field, which chooses the events to be tested. Grandma's has been picked five times: in 1987, 1990, 1994, 2006 and 2007. The U.S. Anti-Doping Agency administers the tests to a selected number of elite athletes.

USADA and the U.S. Olympic Committee pay for the testing, which costs $300 to $500 per athlete. The race organization pays for testers' expenses. Keenan said that's a small price to pay, and he's willing to pay more.

At a recent meeting of road race managers, he discussed an idea to create a partnership between USATF and race organizations in which the costs of testing would be shared, allowing more events to be monitored. Ideally, Keenan said, Grandma's would be tested every year.

Some races -- including the Twin Cities Marathon -- already have assured that by paying for their own drug testing.

"In the years we're not selected, we're going to fund it on our own," said Virginia Brophy Achman, executive director of the Twin Cities Marathon. "It's important to us, and it's the right thing to do."

Achman, whose race has not yielded a positive drug test, was saddened to hear Grandma's Marathon had produced a tainted winner. Sadder still is the prospect that 2006 was not the first time. Karnatsevich also won Grandma's in 2005, and 2001 winner Lyubov Denisova faces a two-year ban from competition for failing a drug test three months after her record-setting victory in the Honolulu Marathon. Grandma's runners were not tested in 2001 or 2005.

Grandma's new drug policy mandates that all elite athletes in the marathon and in the Garry Bjorklund Half Marathon sign an affidavit confirming they are not using performance-enhancing drugs. It also states race organizers will not recruit or pay expenses for any athlete who has ever been suspended for using banned drugs, and they will sever ties with agents and coaches of such athletes.

Keenan knows that doesn't guarantee the purity of the elite runners who will stream into Canal Park on Saturday. There always will be people trying to game the system for fame or money. But he doesn't see Grandma's new rules as futile. Trying to uphold integrity and honesty, two quintessential small-town values, seems only natural for a race that runs on small-town charm.

"I didn't have any anger or disappointment," Keenan said. "I was really glad we caught a cheater, because it's unfair to our athletes. We had to play the cards we were dealt. And I think this is the right thing to do."

Rachel Blount • rblount@startribune.com