The famous Citgo sign that unofficially marks the one-mile-to-go point of the Boston Marathon has greeted the countless almost-there striving finishers of the world’s greatest footrace. It got to savor the drama of Alberto Salazar and Dick Beardsley racing the final miles of their famous “Duel in the Sun.” It cheered on Bill Rodgers to each of his four victories. It even had a front-row seat to Uta Pippig’s famous “accident” en route to a come-frombehind victory at the 100th running.

And on April 20, 2009, during the 113th running of the Boston Marathon, unknown to anyone at the time, the ▲ The famous Citgo sign in Boston, sitting atop the campus bookstore of Boston Citgo sign witnessed a truly miraculous University, overlooking Fenway Park, and coincidence. This is a story of the crossed serving as a welcome landmark near the paths of two boyhood friends—Manoj end of the Boston Marathon. Massand and Geoff Owers.

All of this, however, began on the other side of the globe from Boston—on a different continent, in a different world. Dhahran, Saudi Arabia, is an oil-producing town near the Persian Gulf and home to Aramco—the Arabian American Oil Company. Dhahran was home to

Geoff and Manoj during their childhood friendship. Geoff moved there from Arizona with his family in 1977, when he was 5. Manoj’s family had arrived in Dhahran four years earlier, before he could even remember.

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Dhahran, Saudi Arabia, is approximately 6,400 miles away from Boston, Massachusetts.

A great place for a child to grow up, Dhahran was populated with residents from all over the world. The compound was occupied mainly by the families of Aramco employees—collectively nicknamed “Aramco brats.” Furthermore, the town of expatriates was safe and also small enough for everyone to know everybody else fairly well. The compound had a great school system and great facilities like a library, theater, and two swimming pools. The beach was nearby. Dhahran at first glance was its own perfect world but in reality not quite perfect.

In all the apparent brilliance of the world surrounded by a fence in the middle of a desert in the Eastern Province of Saudi Arabia was a place under the eye of a strict government, and everything in the compound and company—as in life itself—was temporary. Sadly, it was fairly common for a family, after living in Dhahran for several years, to suddenly announce, for one reason or another, that it was moving back to its original home, taking its earnings and experiences elsewhere. This was tough whether you were an adult or a child. Friendships could be severed as quickly as they were established.

Geoff Owers discovered running while he lived there. Initially inspired by his father (a former outstanding half-miler in college), Geoff picked up running in first grade, finding the sport to undoubtedly be his niche. Although he started off by sharing the road with his dad, he eventually found he enjoyed the solitude, the discipline, and the sheer self-reliance of distance running.

One of the bigger events held each year in Dhahran was the Christmas-time Jingle Bell Run, a 5K race that seemingly the entire town of expatriates would either compete in or support one way or another. Geoff ran the inaugural Jingle Bell Run when he was 6 years old, finishing in 24 minutes, 23 seconds and earning the second-place trophy for the 10-and-under category—the first of many awards he would earn as a runner. Despite knowing that he had already found his sport, he, like many children before they commit to a single sport, took a shot at a few other outlets along the way—soccer, baseball, and BMX racing.

Manoj Massand was born in Cambridge, Massachusetts, in 1972, at a hospital exactly 2.62 miles from the Citgo sign in Kenmore Square. His first exposure to running was also in Dhahran. Overweight as a child, he was merely a spectator at the Jingle Bell Run when he was 6 years old—the same race in which his friend Geoff finished second in the 10-and-under category. Manoj remembers sitting

in the bleachers at the Third Street track the day of the Jingle Bell Run, when not too long after the start, a slender, elegant, graceful runner cruised comfortably around the track at the end of the course to a very

easy victory: 15 minutes and change, not bad for a 90-plus-degree December afternoon in Saudi Arabia. Nobody was even close to him, and it was several minutes before the second-place finisher came into sight.

That overall winner was Geoff’s father. At that moment, Manoj couldn’t comprehend why people even ran at all, but a seed was planted. A couple of years later, he ran the Jingle Bell Run—his first race—as a chubby,

flat-footed third-grader. He finished in 41 minutes and 7 seconds on a very hot day. He realized clearly then that running just wasn’t his thing. He picked up tennis shortly after this, and despite playing baseball and soccer in organized youth

leagues, he never found the same type of success as he did in tennis; tennis was his sport. Though he remained somewhat overweight throughout childhood and was somewhat hindered by being “slow,” Manoj had enough other strengths to

overcome his weaknesses and performed extremely well in junior tennis tournaments. However, one day when Manoj was playing a practice match—one he was winning—an older player who didn’t take a liking to him made a comment from

the stands during a close match. “Look at Chubs over there. Watch him waddle around the court. One day he’ll run the Boston Marathon! Ha, ha!” As different as their interests seemed to be, Geoff and Manoj found plenty of

common ground on which to establish their friendship. They were in the same kindergarten, fourth-grade, and fifth-grade classes. Manoj Massand, proudly holding one of his early tennis awards following a junior tournament victory—Dhahran, Saudi Arabia, 1981.

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Courtesy of Manoj Massand

Courtesy of Geoff Owers

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Geoff Owers, age 6, proudly posing with his Jingle Bell Run trophy—Dhahran, Saudi Arabia, 1978.

Courtesy of Geoff Owers

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Geoff and Manoj in a fifth-grade class photo— Dhahran, Saudi Arabia, 1983. (Geoff is standing in the back row, second from left. Manoj is in the front row, far right.)

Courtesy of Manoj Massand

They were on the same soccer team for a season. Geoff often played goalie, while Manoj was one of the defenders. They had many common friends, went to many birthday parties together, and subbed for each other on their paper routes. They

were placed in the same math levels in their elementary classes. They hung out in the library together and read many of the same books. They shared a common interest in most sports—not distance running, though.

Geoff’s final year in Dhahran was fifth grade, probably the year when he and ▲ Manoj Massand and Geoff Owers at Manoj’s sixth birthday party—Dhahran, Manoj became the closest. During that Saudi Arabia, 1978.

year, Geoff had to tell his teacher and his friends, including Manoj, that his family was moving back to Arizona soon. One of the hardest parts of living overseas is the end, that moment when you realize that your entire world is going to change. Saying good-bye in Dhahran

was assumed to mean forever, and in the long run, every friend eventually left, whether it was because the family left the country or because graduates left for boarding school after ninth grade. At the age of 11, the day before he was to leave Dhahran permanently with his

family in July 1983, Geoff remembers having a final conversation with Manoj. After a short exchange on the front porch of his house, Geoff recalls closing the awkward moment with an innocent white lie: “See you later.”

Manoj stared at him for an even more awkward moment before giving his clever, but sincere, reply. “When?” “What?” Geoff asked for clarification. Manoj repeated himself: “When?” * * * Both Manoj and Geoff spent their postchildhood in the United States. Geoff competed in cross-country and track for Arizona State University and, after graduating, eventually became a math teacher as well as a cross-country and track coach. Manoj played tennis at Princeton and, after graduating, went on to medical school and became a doctor. Prior to college, Manoj had been given another opportunity to try distance running when he was at Deerfield Academy in Massachusetts, which he attended for 10th through 12th grades. Since tennis was a spring sport and Manoj needed a fall sport in order to be in shape for tennis, he picked cross-country running. He enjoyed the camaraderie of the team and was influenced by his coaches. Both coaches of the JV team were math teachers, and they helped develop his passion and persistence for running and life, much in the same way that Geoff currently does for others as a math teacher and coach at a private boarding school in California. Coincidentally, still out of touch since they parted as childhood friends in Dhahran, both

Geoff and Manoj ran the Phoenix PF Chang’s Rock ’n’ Roll Marathon. They both lived in Phoenix during the time but didn’t realize that, either. They also didn’t realize that on April 20, 2009, they were both among the 26,200 participants of the world’s greatest footrace, the Boston Marathon. They didn’t know it because they still hadn’t spoken since that final, awkward conversation in Dhahran 26 years earlier.

It was Geoff’s first Boston Marathon. He was finally realizing his dream of running the legendary race after a long career that had begun at the Dhahran Jingle Bell Run over 30 years before. Manoj was running his 20th marathon that day, and he couldn’t imagine a more perfect setting than his birthplace 37 years earlier. This was obviously a whole new era since the day of his 41-minute Jingle Bell Run, but he still recalled the vision of Geoff’s father’s graceful stride around the Dhahran track.

Both Manoj and Geoff ran Boston that third Monday of April, enjoying perfect marathoning conditions, and both finished—not too far apart, either. They had no clue how close they had been at one point in the race. They were still as estranged as they had been since they were 11 years old.

Over a year passed. In the summer of 2010, Facebook allowed them to get back in touch, and a series of interesting messages triggered an unbelievable realization.

Hey Geoff, RnR Arizona was a lot of fun. I’ve actually done that one 3 times—lived in Phoenix for a while a few years back. I remember you were always a runner from those days near 3rd street in Dhahran, and I hope you still

are going strong. Still also have memories of AYSO [Aramco Youth Soccer Organization]—I think we were on the Sounders together, maybe? You have a beautiful family. Nice to be able to get in touch after all these years! Manoj

Days later, Geoff noticed that Manoj had changed his Facebook profile picture. He recognized the Citgo sign and the obvious Boston Marathon scenery in the background of Manoj’s picture and knew instantly where the picture was taken. Geoff immediately sent him a message: Manoj,

I’ve seen that big Citgo sign . . . and I know where it is! I ran Boston in 2009—something I had wanted to do my whole life. Congratulations! Good luck as you continue running. Geoff Manoj wrote back:

Interestingly enough, that picture is from 2009! I love that race. Wow . . . we actually ran the Boston Marathon together, but we didn’t even realize it, Geoff thought to himself, as he recalled their last conversation, 26 years earlier, on the Dhahran front porch.

Before replying, Geoff went to the B.A.A. site, knowing he could get any runner’s results and splits and genuinely curious as to how far ahead of his childhood friend he had finished. Sure enough, Manoj was listed—no surprise.

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The reunion that only “Citgo” witnessed: Manoj, wearing bib #5661, mere minutes from the finish of the 2009 Boston Marathon. Geoff is the runner on the far right of the photo, wearing the gray singlet. This photo amazingly captures the reunion of the two childhood friends, despite the fact that neither of them realized it at the time.

Courtesy of Manoj Massand

But what caused Geoff to grin from ear to ear was seeing that Manoj had run 3:08:27—over two minutes better than his own time. Geoff made a closer study of the splits listed within the race results, knowing

that in his own race, he had faded severely over the final miles of the race. Heartbreak Hill had taken its toll on him, and his last three miles were barely a survival shuffle. He concluded that Manoj must have passed

him somewhere near the end of the Boston Marathon. It was a mathematical certainty. He wrote to Manoj: How ironic . . . I can hardly believe it. I think we must have finished that Boston 2009 just a few minutes apart. I remember when I said good-bye

to you in Dhahran (July, 1983), I said, “Well . . . see ya later,” and you said, “When?” I don’t know why I always remembered you asking that question, but I now have the answer. Isn’t life funny? During this exchange of hauntingly surreal messages throughout the morning,

Manoj also realized that he had passed Geoff in the later stages of the race and eventually looked again carefully—very carefully—at his profile picture, the one with the Citgo sign in the background. He wrote back to Geoff.

Wow! Now are you ready to get even more blown away? Click on that picture and look VERY closely at the person at the very far right margin of the picture, just behind the guy in red. That’s YOU! Indeed, barely inside the far right side of the picture was Geoff, unmistakably,

looking like death warmed over. Manoj, bounding along strongly toward the finish, was in the foreground of the picture. And the famous Citgo sign is at the top of the picture, centered between the two unknowing friends, watching their reunion occur—26 years later at the 26th mile—yet another historic Boston Marathon moment!