Running Into Tragedy

The author was hoping to set a record for completing consecutive Boston Marathons-but terrorists had other plans

February 24, 2014 6:08 a.m.

I wasn’t the only person with a long Boston streak. In 1967, the year I heard about it on the radio, a 21-year-old from Pennsylvania named Neil Weygandt ran the race. He kept returning.

Back then, no one was really tuned into these streaks. But in 2001, the BAA took inventory and discovered that Neil was No. 1 and I was No. 2 in running the most consecutive Boston Marathons.

Neil also has run 100-milers and other ultra-marathons, and in 2012, all that mileage caught up with him in the form of injuries. He decided not to enter the 2012 race, so when I staggered through the 90-degree heat that Patriots’ Day, finishing in a humbling 5:56, I tied Neil.

I’d had my own physical problems. One morning in June 2002, my left leg became balky. It seemed to lack the energy to take the next step. The problem worsened. I went to neurologists, orthopedists, chiropractors and physical therapists. I heard various theories and tried a number of potential remedies. Nothing worked.

- Advertisement -

Then in 2006 I landed in the office of Dr. John Kelly, then a neurologist at George Washington University Hospital.

After enduring yet another of those pins-in-the-back-and-legs tests, I heard a new word: dystonia. The third most common movement disorder after Parkinson’s disease and “essential tremor,” dystonia is still so rare that few people have heard of it. Almost every patient has different symptoms. For unknown reasons, my brain had started sending a signal to my left hamstring to contract when I wanted it to extend for a full stride. As a result, my knee remains bent, and my right leg has to adjust. It’s not pretty, and 12 years later I’m still embarrassed by how awkward I look on the roads.

Fortunately, there’s no pain. No direct pain, that is. Any runner knows that when the body tries to compensate for an unbalanced gait, injury is almost sure to follow. It did in my case, and

I began to suspect that my running days were over. Yet somehow, after I drastically cut back my training, my body made peace with this weird stride.

Sponsored
Face of the Week

Through Kelly, I got into a National Institutes of Health clinic that specialized in dystonia. The doctors there have monitored me and given me exercises. Like many with dystonia, I receive Botox injections in my leg every few months. (Hold the jokes; I’ve heard them all.) The Botox interferes with that signal from the brain and, in my case, stops my left foot from banging into my right ankle bone.

My current running regime is a far cry from marathon training. I run three days a week, typically 4 miles one day, 7 another, and then do a stairs workout since dystonia doesn’t affect me on stairs. I do those either in the Elm Street parking garage in Bethesda or at my office near the State Department in the District.

To make up for that paltry schedule, I commute by bike, lift weights, use an elliptical trainer and Exercycle in my basement, and swim in the summer. I get about 12 hours of exercise per week.

Running is a different experience now. Because I’m so much slower, I’m at the back of the pack with the Elvis impersonators, the jugglers and the guys dressed up as cheeseburgers. But the sport is too much a part of me to give it up.

That’s why I’d returned to Boston yet again in 2013.

- Advertisement -

Carol had organized a party at Uno’s, a mile from the finish line, the night before the marathon, and 40 friends and family members celebrated what we figured would be my 46th trip down Boylston Street about 20 hours later. I knew, of course, that anything can happen in 26 miles.

Anything.

It turned out to be a good day to have a calf injury. Had I been on schedule, my family might have been settling into their seats at the finish line at 2:49 p.m., when the bombs exploded.

Digital Partners

Get the latest local news, delivered right to your inbox.

Close the CTA

Enjoying what you're reading?

Enter our essay contest

Close the CTA