The 1904 Olympic marathon may have been the strangest ever. Of the 32 runners, only five were experienced marathoners; one showed up at the starting line barefoot, and a Cuban runner was attired in a white, long-sleeved shirt, long, dark pants, a beret and a pair of street shoes. One fellow Olympian took pity, found a pair of scissors and cut his trousers at the knee. On August 30 they fired the starting pistol, and the men were off. Heat and humidity soared into the 90s, and the 24.85-mile course—which one fair official called “the most difficult a human being was ever asked to run over”—wound across roads inches deep in dust. There were seven hills, varying from 100-to-300 feet high, some with brutally long ascents. In many places cracked stone was strewn across the roadway, creating perilous footing, and the men had to constantly dodge cross-town traffic, delivery wagons, railroad trains, trolley cars and people walking their dogs. There were only two places where athletes could secure fresh water, from a water tower at six miles and a roadside well at 12 miles. Also, the organizers wanted to minimize fluid intake to test the limits and effects of purposeful dehydration, a common area of research at the time. Cars carrying coaches and physicians motored alongside the runners, kicking the dust up and launching coughing spells. Two men Fred Lorz and Thomas Hicks were the most notable of the runners. Lord led from the gun, but by the first mile Hicks edged ahead. Runners slowly dropped from the race, one man had the dust coat his esophagus and rip his stomach lining; another suffered a bout of vomiting and gave up; yet another was chased a mile off course by wild dogs; and the Cuban trotted along in his cumbersome shoes and billowing shirt, making good time even though he paused to chat with spectators in broken English. He eventually stopped at an orchard and snacked on some apples, which turned out to be rotten. Suffering from stomach cramps, he lay down and took a nap. At the nine-mile mark cramps plagued Lorz, who decided to hitch a ride in one of the accompanying automobiles, waving at spectators and fellow runners as he passed. Hicks kept running. Eventually, Lorz recovered from his cramps and emerged from his 11-mile ride in the automobile. One of Hicks’ handlers saw him and ordered him off the course, but Lorz kept running and finished with a time of just under three hours. The crowd roared and began chanting, “An American won!” They placed a wreath upon Lorz’s head and were just about to lower the gold medal around his neck when someone called a halt to the proceedings with the charge that Lorz was an impostor. The cheers turned to boos. Lorz smiled and claimed that he had never intended to accept the honor; he finished only for the sake of a “joke.” By the time Hicks entered the stadium he had begun hallucinating, believing that the finish line was still 20 miles away. He tried to run but was reduced to a graceless shuffle. His trainers carried him over the line, holding him aloft while his feet moved back and forth, and he was declared the winner. It took four doctors and one hour for Hicks to feel well enough just to leave the grounds. He had lost eight pounds during the course of the race, and declared, “Never in my life have I run such a tough course. The terrific hills simply tear a man to pieces.”