CYBORG ATHLETES

Genetic engineering is one of those concepts, like organic farming or how one feels about big bad Microsoft, that stirs an immediate and powerful gut reaction. Many believe the new age of biogenetics ushers in a wonderful opportunity to target historically incurable diseases. Others fear a cyborg future, where humans are transformed into soul-less machines. Almost always the controversy is projected as a future concern.

That may be true in medicine, for the promise of gene therapies and human cloning remains a distant, if realistic, dream. But in the world of athletics, genetic engineering is the here and now. In fact, there are athletes with genetically enhanced advantages. Unfettered by fears of being caught, they will likely shatter accepted limits of human athletic performance—but at unknown cost to their health.

By the Athens Olympics in 2004, say geneticists and sports physiologists, dozens if not hundreds of athletes will have experimented with arapidly emerging range of performance-enhancing drugs, such as human growth hormone (HGH) or erythropoietin (EOP), or experimented with gene therapies whose use is utterly undetectable.

“T think genetic engineering may have already started,” says former Norwegian speed-skating champion Johann Olav Koss, a doctor and member of the World Anti-Doping Agency (WADA), an International Olympic Committee organization found to oversee drug testing. “We can’t be naive. We must be realistic.”

There is heated disagreement as to whether genetic manipulation represents sports’ doomsday future or society’s salvation—or both. In recent years, geneticists have made small but measurable strides in gene therapy, which involves injecting the body with artificial genes that produce therapeutic proteins to block diseases, such as hemophilia and cystic fibrosis, or even chronic pain. The technique, while still being tested experimentally on humans, has been used successfully in some cases on animals.

But the caution that shadows medical research is hardly present in the winat-all-costs world of athletics. There is a huge incentive for athletes to angle for every edge, even illegal ones. Athletes, from running backs who have lost a half step to Kenyan-chasing distance runners, could see their prospects soar if they can find a scientist willing to experiment on them. Athletes will no doubt be the “canary in the mine” in genetic engineering, willing to experiment on themselves in the quest for gold, even recognizing the potentially disastrous consequences.

“Tt would be risky because of unknown side effects, but the basic genetic advances have been made,” acknowledges Bengt Saltin, who is a key member

of WADA, which met in March to draft guidelines on gene doping. “But if scientists are willing to cooperate, there are athletes who will experiment on themselves.”

Developed to treat dwarfism, synthetic growth hormone has been a favorite among strength athletes for more than a decade. It created hardly a ripple in 1998 when Australian customs inspectors discovered 13 vials of genetically engineered HGH hidden in the luggage of a Chinese swimmer before the 1998 World Swimming Championships.

EPO, a synthetic hormone that increases the production of oxygen-carrying red blood cells, is a favorite among endurance athletes, particularly cyclers. There have been on-again, off-again rumors of Kenyans doping with EPO but with no evidence. While tests are being developed to detect EPO, scientists are one step ahead of the doping police, having already perfected a virtually undetectable, injectable version.

“Tt’s not rocket science,” says Theodore Friedman, director of the gene therapy program at the University of California at San Diego and a WADA member. “If you asked any student of molecular biology how he would implant genes to change muscle function, he could cite three or four ways to do it.”

“Tf direct injection is used, the DNA will only be present in that specific muscle,” notes Peter Schjerling, Saltin’s colleague at the Copenhagen research center. “Therefore, a positive test would require a slice of actual muscle tissue. It would have to be at the exact spot of the injection. That’s just not feasible.”

In other words, as soon as a version of EPO now being tested on animals is perfected for use in humans, the insertion of a single gene into a leg muscle could turn the body into an endurance factory for months, with almost no chance of being nabbed. “I have no doubt that if this is being done on mice, humans aren’t far behind,” agrees Dr. Saltin, who is a former competitive runner.

Like ordinary genes, the artificial genes consist of DNA, the basic raw materials of human life. The direct delivery approach entails injecting the DNA into the muscle. The fibers would then take up the DNA and add it to the normal pool of genes. As this method is not yet very efficient, researchers are experimenting with viruses to carry the gene payload into a cell’s nucleus. Unfortunately, in contrast to the direct injection, the genes are also delivered to many other cells, such as those of the blood and liver, in addition to the intended target. A third approach entails removing specific cell types from the patient, adding the artificial gene in the laboratory, and reintroducing the cells into the body. Since the artificial genes would produce proteins that in many cases are identical to the normal proteins, that means you can kiss good-bye any effective policing by sports agencies.

Jon Entine PREORDAINED PEAK PERFORMANCE i 85

DELICATE BALANCE

Scientists and their athlete guinea pigs are already experimenting with various gene therapies to hasten the healing process after sports-related injuries. The technique involves delivering therapeutic proteins (such as those encoding growth factors or antibiotics) to the injured tissue. Tissue engineering, which may eventually be combined with gene therapy, offers the potential to create tissues for regeneration of defects occurring from trauma. Such therapies may eventually offer wonder treatments to those suffering from cartilage damage, ACL injury, meniscus tears, and severe fractures. Although there have been many successful experimental studies in humans, potential side effects are still an open question.

Several more radical but promising performance-enhancing gene modifications have also been successfully tested on animals. They include generating the growth of explosive, fast-twitch muscle fibers and stimulating the release of growth hormone releasing hormone (GHRH), which can make recipients both stronger and leaner.

The list of genetically engineered drugs that are sure to entice athletes grows daily. Some of the most advanced research would benefit sprinters. Although the fastest muscle fiber types are not found in human skeletal muscle, the potential for developing such fibers is embedded in long-dormant genes. Geneticists have recently developed a protein known as a “transcription factor” called Velociphin, which can activate these genes. Just a few injections of this DNA into the quadriceps, hamstring, and gluteus, and the muscle fibers will start cranking out Velociphin, which will activate the fast myosin gene. In weeks the muscles would burst with energy, which could transform a so-so 100meter sprinter into a world record holder. There are no visible side effects, and without a muscle biopsy directly into manipulated muscle the genetic modification is undetectable.

But there is a cost, and not just the potential disintegration of sports as we know it. Many drugs have dangerous, or even toxic, side effects. For example, the use of human growth hormone leads to enlarged organs and uncontrollable bone growth in the face and hands. And inserted genes could spin out of control, leading to thickening blood, strokes, heart attacks, and even death. Weightlifters pondering cancellation of their health club memberships should consider that once a gene for a growth factor gets inserted, the muscle nucleus continues churning out elevated quantities—forever.

“Tn principle, the only thing lacking is a control mechanism to keep a lid on this,” says Schjerling. But, inevitably perhaps, scientists are working on this too. A Stanford University molecular pharmacologist, Helen Blau, has demonstrated that a gene could be introduced to stimulate growth hormone in the bloodstream and then be switched off with the use of an oral antibiotic.

“{Athletes] could be genetically engineered to have a gene which increased their strength as they trained but then was shut off when required,” Blau said. “Tt could be a future concern for the Olympics.”

Even if control mechanisms are developed, serious problems loom. Imagine an enhanced-in-the-lab distance runner (or thoroughbred horse, since these techniques are being used in horse racing) whose genetically bloated muscles are too powerful for the skeletal system to support. In many sports, genetic enhancements can permanently and perhaps perilously alter the natural human balance.

While many of us naively view the human body as an invincible machine, itis an integrated combination of tendons, cartilage, bones, muscle, and fat. All living creatures are a delicate balance. One small change can have extraordinary and unanticipated consequences. For example, researchers have genetically altered a housefly with muscles 300 percent stronger than normal. That may sound promising, but “the fly actually lost power because it couldn’t make its wings move fast enough” to support the added muscle weight, notes H. Lee Sweeney, a University of Pennsylvania physiologist.

Sweeney is coauthor of the “He-Man” mouse study, which is often cited as a cutting edge example of how genetic engineering might transform sports. Sweeney’s experiments should send shivers down the back of the Maurice Greenes, the Wilson Kipketers, and the Khalid Khannouchis of this world.

He-Man is a mouse running endless, tireless circles in his basement laboratory cage at a University of Pennsylvania laboratory. Four years ago, he was injected with a synthetic version of a gene called insulin-like growth factor 1 (IGF-1), a protein that makes muscles grow and repair themselves. Now deep into old age, the once tiny mouse and his gene-modified brothers and sisters look more like the Turkish weightlifter Naim Suleymanoglu. He-Man can now climb a ladder carrying three times his body weight.

Following up on the He-Man studies, researchers at London’s Royal Free Hospital and University College London Medical School recently tested musclebuilding, engineered vaccines on mice. Dubbed mechano-growth factor (MGF), a protein that makes muscles grow and repair themselves, the vaccines were found to increase muscle mass by as much as 60 percent within a month and with no exercise.

“We call them the Schwarzenegger mice,” says Harvard Medical School professor Nadia Rosenthal, who has run similar experiments. “I’d be totally surprised if it was not going on in sports. Those with terminal cancer and AIDS want to know ‘What will keep me alive?’ Athletes want to know ‘What will help me win?’”

Jon Entine PREORDAINED PEAK PERFORMANCE Mi 87

IS A SUB-TWO-HOUR MARATHON IN THE FUTURE?

World record running times are made to be broken. Many performances that were world class only 50 years ago are routine now. In 1954 Roger Bannister stunned the world when he broke the four-minute barrier. But within six weeks his improbable record fell. Fast-forward to 1999, and Moroccan Hicham El Guerrouj has lowered the record to 3:43.13.

The potential—indeed, the reality—of gene enhancement and genetic engineering raises the fascinating question of human limits. What keeps athletes from running longer and faster or throwing farther? In our constant striving to better our achievements and set new records, are there limits? Can we ever expect to see a marathoner break the theoretical two-hour barrier?

The steady improvement in records of all sporting events may, at first glance, look like biological evolution at work, but that’s far-fetched. Genetically we are pretty much the same as we’ ve been for thousands of years. And the past 100 years represents but an eye blink of evolutionary time. Moreover, any mutation that might crop up and that could be of value for athletic performance (such as enormously large lung capacity for marathoners) would quickly be diffused in the gene pool.

That said, pockets of populations (as distinct from “races”) with body types or physiology particularly well-suited for certain athletic skills do exist. That is part of the explanation for East African success in long-distance running, Eurasian white dominance of weightlifting and the Olympic power events, and Asian success in sports that place a premium on flexibility, such as diving, skating, and gymnastics.

To understand the record-shattering performances of Kenyan runners, it’s important to recognize that, from a genetics perspective, Olympians are at the far end of the bell curve distribution. They are outliers, freaks of nature if you will, no less so than a 180 IQ or seven-foot-tall person. World-class marathoners are generally off the scale according to every parameter one can think of— physiological systems for muscles, enzymes, hormones, bone structure, and body build. Moreover, all of these superlatives have been bolstered by diet, rest, training, and stress management.

These performance freaks are considerably different from athletes who competed in the early days of Olympic and world competition. While talented, many past athletes were a lot closer in ability to the average population. Just look at old basketball newsreels from the 1930s, when short Jewish, Irish, and Italian players dominated the sport. Over time, they ceded the game to athletes who were stronger, taller, and quicker.

In other words, part of the dramatic increase in the performance curve is statistical. By simply opening up sports to more countries, the likelihood increases of having some individual runner who is faster or a better marathoner

than ever before in history. The dramatic improvement in women’s world records can be explained, in large measure, by the surge in the number of participants who have shaken off social taboos limiting female participation in sports. And the great distance-running success of the Finns and Brits in earlier decades occurred in part because East and North African populations did not participate. It’s easier to win when your toughest competitors aren’t in the race.

If there is a physiological maximum to running speed or the endurance of a human being, one would expect that as athletes approached that limit improvements would become both rarer and smaller. That’s been true in some events, such as the 200-meter run. In 1968 the world record stood at 19.83 seconds. In 1996 Michael Johnson lowered it to 19.32 seconds—a half second improvement in 28 years.

However, over the past 100 years in most events, world record running times declined almost linearly, at least until the last decade. Many in sport believe that the record-shattering marks of the 1980s and ’90s are tainted by the use of performance-enhancing drugs. And now, gene therapies and genetic engineering loom.

The biological limits to athletic performance—at least for sports such as cycling, swimming, and long-distance running that require high endurance— lie in the body’s inefficient supply and consumption of energy. According to researchers in Copenhagen, the lungs are not a limiting factor. Even during the most strenuous exercise, when the lungs are inhaling and exhaling 25 times more air than they do when the body is at rest, they are working at only twothirds their maximum capacity.

Exercise training does not increase the capacity of the lungs, however, whereas training does improve the performance of all the cardiovascular and muscle components. According to tests, as long as muscles get oxygen as fuel for mitochondria, they can produce without limits. The heart is a different kind of muscle, however. In endurance sports such as long-distance running, the heart works at 90 percent of its maximum capacity, which is close to its limit. Performance is limited by the amount of blood that the heart can pump through the body.

Blood doping and the use of genetically engineered EPO could certainly extend what might otherwise be thought of as “natural” performance limits. Also on the horizon is genetic manipulation of mitochondria so as to increase its consumption of oxygen and therefore its production of adenosine triphosphate (ATP), the general-purpose immediate energy source for cells of the body.

IS GENETIC ENGINEERING NECESSARILY EVIL?

What does all this portend for the future of sport—running in particular? The explosive growth of gene doping leaves Dr. Saltin with a recurring nightmare.

He imagines a scenario in which a competitive but sub-elite sprinter obsessed with challenging Maurice Greene and the like turns to a renegade geneticist familiar with the latest research on the genetic modification of muscle fiber types. Saltin likes to spin a tale, set in the future, of this desperate athlete’s longawaited race for Olympic immortality.

BANG! The genetically doped athlete dashes into the lead, extending it with every stride. Then at 65 meters, far out in front of the field, asudden twinge tickles the hamstring. Saltin picks up the story:

“At 80 meters, the twinge explodes into an overwhelming pain as he pulls his hamstring. A tenth of a second later the patella tendon gives in—because it is no match for the massive forces generated by his quadriceps muscle. The patella tendon pulls out part of the tibia bone, which then snaps, and the entire quadriceps shoots up along the femur bone. The athlete crumples to the ground, his running career over.”

This is not the scenario that generally comes to mind in connection with the words “genetically engineered super athlete,” notes Saltin, but it is very much a part of the reality.

The now-crippled East German and Soviet sports systems are vivid reminders that victory-hungry athletes and their state sponsors will strike Faustian bargains if the stakes are high enough. Fantasies of glory didn’t die with the collapse of communism. In a 1995 survey of aspiring American Olympians, more than half said they would take a banned substance that would guarantee victory in every competition for five years even if would lead to certain death.

With all of these Frankenstein-like scenarios, it would seem an easy decision to ban genetic engineering of athletes on both medical and ethical grounds. Certainly, the IOC president, Jacques Rogge, talks tough. “Genetic manipulation is there to treat people who have ailments, not to treat a healthy person,” he said recently. “I am very clear on this.”

But few scientists see the issue so clearly. There is a hazy and debatable line between “health restoration” and “performance enhancement.” Imagine an athlete using gene modification to help overcome congenital asthma or some such other genetic abnormality. Many argue that even embryonic gene manipulation to create better athletes, which is a decade or more in the future, should not be banned outright.

As the Olympic 100-meter champion, Maurice Greene, has noted, “What if you’re born with something having been done to you?” Should manipulation of an embryo be considered cheating if, as Greene hypothesizes, “you don’t have anything to do with it?” It is problematic to have genetically enhanced athletes compete against nonenhanced athletes, but is it fair to disqualify them if the changes were made before birth, perhaps even to save their lives?

Considering the promising health potential of genetic enhancement, it certainly appears to be more acceptable than drugs, even legal ones. But this debate, both medical and ethical, can expect to rage for decades. The IOC has set up a “gene doping” advisory group but seems befuddled by these complex issues and intimidated by the political fallout that might greet any radical action on their part.

“While the information from genetic science will feed through into better treatments for disease,” says Bruce Lynn, a neurophysiologist at University College London, “itis also going to present the sports industry with a Pandora’s box.”

Wake up, sports world. The Pandora’s box is open. There are cyborg athletes among us.

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New York 2001

The Horror of September 11 Still Reverberated, but the NYC Marathon Would Serve As a Big Stride Toward Recovering.

\ N ] HEN MY running buddy Gif Thornton’s fourth child arrived, he and his wife decided he would notrun New Yorkin 2001. also decided to defer for a year. Then came September 11.

That morning a friend told me to turn on the television, and I watched as the second jetliner crashed into the World Trade Center. Like millions around the world, I was stunned. With three young sons, my wife and I strictly limit television time. But on September 11 and for several days following, the television stayed on almost constantly.

Like many, I thought the New York City Marathon might be canceled. But when plans for the marathon went forward, I felt I had to go. As much as the terrorists’ acts and the media coverage had affected my children, shouldn’t I show our sons we were not giving in to the terrorists or to our own fears?

THE DAY BEFORE

The day before the race, my 11-year-old son Rick and I go to the race expo at the Jacob Javits Convention Center to pick up my number, chip, and race packet. The very location reminds us of September 11 since Pier 94, where the expo was previously scheduled, now served as a temporary morgue.

Security requirements include a photo ID just to get into the expo. I pick up my number, my chip, and my race packet. But just as importantly and more ominously, each of us is given a special bag for race-day gear. The bags are clear so that police and security personnel can easily examine the contents.

After the expo, Rick wants to visit chess shops he has read about in A Kid’s Guide to New York City. We go to Greenwich Village where he finds the Chess

Forum, then the Village Chess Shop Ltd. We sit down and battle to several draws.

Afterwards, atnearby Washington Square, Rick spots a touch football game, and soon he is more than happy. I decline an invitation to play, explaining that in not too many hours I will be running a marathon and I need to rest.

RACE MORNING

Early on race morning, I kiss Rick and leave him asleep at our friends’ Manhattan apartment. Matt and Lisa Wiltshire will come with Rick to the race. I walk over to catch one of the buses to travel down to Staten Island. An army of us wait in line, yet I encounter a marathoner friend from Tennessee. Jane Alvis and I have worked together at the Tennessee Legislature in some interesting times, but we agree that neither of us has experienced anything similar to New York City post-September 11. Everyone is anxious, not only about the race, but about security. The tension is not lessened when some guy tries to get on the bus with an equipment bag that is anything but clear. Worse yet, when he opens the bag for security, he has several opaque plastic bottles. They look like water bottles, but there are more of them than any marathoner would need. Police wearing bulletproof vests are all over him.

The bus finally departs, and we roll through a Manhattan that is enjoying a beautiful day; the city appears peaceful.

We finally cross the bridge onto the island. I worked in New York City one summer in Hell’s Kitchen, but I never made it to Staten Island. The buses are backed up, so we creep forward and sit, over and over. Finally, we are allowed off the bus. We go past more security and eventually join thousands of other runners.

I find the worship service in a tent, but it is almost over by the time I arrive. I sit on the grass in the back to stretch and rest, and worship privately. I recall that line about there being no atheists in foxholes. Today it seems appropriate.

9:48 a.m. An hour before the race is to begin. I find water and orange juice. Teven find where those of us who are designated “green” are supposed to line up. A garbage bag holds in some body heat. My friend Sergeant Major Homer Irvin showed me the garbage bag trick before my first marathon in Chicago. He had run with me for years until finally he made a marathoner out of me. Just thinking about Homer makes me smile.

I lie on my back on some grass and look up at the beautiful blue sky. The temperature, I’m told, is mid-50s. It will be warm during the race, maybe even hot. As I gaze upward, I look at the top of the suspension bridge. Eventually I realize the little specks on top of the bridge tower are three people. They are wearing dark blue. Police sharpshooters.

THE MAYOR VISITS STATEN ISLAND

The public address announcer tells us Mayor Giuliani flew to Arizona yesterday for the World Series game between the Diamondbacks and the Yankees, then came back in the wee hours this morning to be with us. I wonder whether, in the wake of the Yankees’ 15-2 defeat, the team ran the mayor off.

9:50 a.m. [hear applause, wonder what is going on, then see the wheelchair athletes starting up the bridge. I join in the applause.

One loudspeaker announcer is urging us to go to the stage to see the mayor and another is saying to go to our places to line up for the race. About 10:00 a.m., a woman begins to sing “America the Beautiful.” Many, perhaps most of us, rise and stand in respect.

Ihave not seen so many American flags since the Democratic National Convention a little over a year earlier. And I’ ve never seen so many variations of the flag worn in so many ways.

Like hundreds or thousands, I had accepted a red, white, and blue nasal strip to show the colors.

Mayor Giuliani is announced and there is the loudest applause of the morning, even more than for “America the Beautiful.”

I lie on my back again, watching two helicopters circle and jets fly over. The sunshine feels wonderful.

Music is playing on the loudspeakers at the bridge while the mayor tries to speak over the loudspeakers at the PowerBar stage. I cannot understand much of what he is saying. Besides the other distractions, the helicopters are adding to the cacophony. Perhaps I’ ve listened to too many elected officials to listen too carefully.

A moment of reflection before the start of the 2001 NYC Marathon.

To save energy, I try not to shake, stretch, or move too much.

The mayor concludes, “God bless all of you, God bless your marathon, and God bless America!”

10:15 a.m. I listen to the recorded music. People are starting to rock to “I Can’t Get Enough of Your Love” by someone who I think sounds like Isaac Hayes. (Later I am told that Barry White recorded the song.)

To my left stands a woman with a flag bandanna over her two braids. She has on blue shorts and blue shirt over a white long-sleeve shirt. The blue shirt says “Carrie,” and she has a flag on it right below her name. It looks very patriotic.

Walking nearby is another woman runner, Lady Liberty, complete with a Statue of Liberty headpiece.

More runners are in more red, white, and blue than you can believe.

Someone walks by sporting a shirt that advocates saving a whale or a seal or some other critter. Many others are dressed less patriotically, at least for the moment, in garbage bags.

10:19 a.m. The theme from Rocky is playing. Then it is abruptly cut off. Maybe they’ re afraid it will get us too pumped too soon?

Many runners are standing in the starting chutes. And lots of us are still lying and sitting on the sides of the access road.

Suddenly I realize the starting chutes are moving. People are walking up to the bridge. I think seriously about continuing to lie there, but I do not want to get too far in the back and have to struggle through too many people. I join the masses moving up the hill and onto the access ramp to the bridge.

A HIKE TO THE START

When we stop, Iam a long way from the starting line. To my right are Leah and Emma Katznelson and Josh Ingals. Leah and Emma are twins and Josh is Leah’s boyfriend. Emma is a first-time marathoner. The twins are students at Columbia, one in architecture, the other in sociology. Leah’s boyfriend manages two restaurants that serve Asian food. Someone mentions how hard it is to find time to run. I promise to send them copies of my M&B story, “Time to Run,” which ran in the September/October 2001 issue.

Someone sings “The Star-Spangled Banner.” Many of us join in. Then Danny Rodriguez of the New York Police Department sings “God Bless America.”

Four helicopters are circling. No. Make that six. White doves released behind us swirl up and away.

Suddenly a cannon goes off and we start slowly trying to walk forward, listening to loudspeakers blaring “New York, New York.”

Five minutes after crossing the starting line, I’m on the bridge but underneath with another span on top. If I recall correctly from photos from past years, the top span has both sides filled with runners. Our lower level has the north side full of three lanes of runners, while the other side is reserved for the very few race-related vehicles.

The twins pass me, weaving their way through the crowd, the veteran sister reaching back, her fingers intertwined with the fingers of her rookie sister. This twin thing is so extraordinary. I think about my own twin boys and their brother who is four years younger but who would very much like to be their triplet.

To the left toward Manhattan, a Coast Guard ship protects us. A fireboat shoots water high into the blue sky with a beautiful rainbow spreading out south of it. There are at least six different strands of water, one red and one blue and the others white, all coming out of the white and red boat. I’ve never seen anything like it.

Irun beside Rob; he’s carrying an American flag. When I point to the boat spouting red, white, and blue water, Rob says, “It’s beautiful. It’s the same every year.” Pause, then he adds, “But I miss our two buildings. That’s not the same this year.”

We look out over the fireboat at the southern edge of Manhattan where the Twin Towers stand no more. I don’t know what to say, so I just run silently and try not to cry.

Under the bridge, we are in shadow, but everywhere else around us sunshine reigns. The shadows in which we run seem symbolic of the shadow under which New York and many of these people still live.

Hi il Hi

Runners with a view of the post-911 New York City skyline.

Fifteen minutes into the run we come off the far side of the bridge. After the first mile, I was a little over a minute off my goal pace measured by the chip and two minutes slow by the clock. I’m further off now. The crowd’s too thick and I’m too far back to run any faster.

lam passed by a fellow with Peru on his shirt, then by a guy with Argentina on his.

I’m discovering that the case I have hooked to my shorts for carrying my tape recorder might not survive the marathon. It is tending to pull and tug at my shorts.

Many runners are standing along the edge of the bridge, dehydrating over the side.

Past two miles. Forty-five seconds to a minute off goal pace.

AN INTERNATIONAL GATHERING

I talk with and then leave behind a fellow originally from Mexico who is now living in France and Britain. I read the names on the shirts and singlets that sport flags:

Mike with the Union Jack. Carl from Sweden.

Another fellow from Mexico. Santiago runners.

Off the bridges and now we can see some serious crowds. Near 78th Street, the first water station. I run to the far end of the line of tables, hoping to avoid the crush. I grab two cups and walk long enough to dump them into my mouth.

Spectators are out in wheelchairs. Babies are covered with Italian flags and American flags. In front of Bayridge United Church stands the choir in their bright robes. They are looking and sounding good.

I check my time at 5K Green. About 25 minutes. So many people, so hard to move ahead, so I just flow with the masses.

At the Lutheran Church of the Good Shepherd, our green-coded group merges into another group of runners. A virtual sea of runners.

And now the crowds are really thick and loud.

I’m behind a guy in a red shirt with an American flag and the white letters “Dakota Beef Builds a Better Body.” Looks like it works for him. I start to tell him about the beef cattle on our farm, but someone gets between us. On my left a little young woman races past in a “Skip Barber Racing School” shirt.

On my right some guy suddenly stops running and swerves out of our crowd. He grabs and hugs a woman in a choir robe at the Fourth Avenue Presbyterian Church. She is laughing so loudly I can hear her over the crowd.

A lot of music at the Tiger Mart.

In front of the “Italian Eatery” are bagpipers with snare drums accompanying. I wonder what my friends in Scotland would say about bagpipers hanging out at Italian restaurants.

About 58th Street, I slowly realize we are in a predominantly Hispaniclooking community. For the most part, the crowd is quieter, but there are still lots of people watching us flow by. I feel as though I’m in a boat on a river watching the people standing on the banks.

Kids are holding out their hands to be slapped. Lots and lots of kids are doing that. I slap some, trying to get the hands others in front of me miss.

There are lots of American flags. Some fellow running to my right is shouting in Spanish about Mexico (pronounced Me-he-ko) to the crowd in hopes of drawing cheers. He gets a few.

Just before 53rd Street, a spectator is pointing toward a subway stop and looking down, like we could duck onto the subway. It looks like a brilliant idea, but I’m already past him before I quite catch on. ““Who was that woman who cheated to “win” at Boston?” I try to recall. “Rosie something?”

At5 1st Street, some guy calls out the countries of the runners. In the seconds Irun past him I hear him say:

“Jamaica.”

“Great Britain.”

“Me-he-ko.”

STILL BEHIND THE CURVE FOR BOSTON

Near 41st Street, I find the five-mile marker. I am two minutes, seven seconds off Boston qualifying pace. The crowd ahead is so thick that there is no way to pick up speed without weaving like the Roadrunner cartoon character. I decide to lay back and flow with it. “Forget qualifying,” I think. “And save it for next month at Rocket City in Huntsville.” I plan to help a running buddy qualify for Boston at that race any way.

Arunner has a firefighter’s photo silk-screened on the back of his singlet.

I pull up behind a woman named Gia Boulous whose white letters on a red shirt read: “This run for George Cain, FDNY, Ladder 7, gave his life 9 11 01.” I ask Gia about George Cain, and she explains that his father lived next door to her and the Cains used to spend holidays with Gia and her family.

Gia says Cain’s father was a firefighter for 31 years. After his son went to Colorado, he tried to get his son to stay there and not come back and be a firefighter. The father sat the son down and told him all the horror stories. But George Cain said, “Dad, I’m going to do it your way.” And he came back and worked as a firefighter.