Wall Street Journal columnist Jason Gay paid a melancholy visit to Boston Marathon icon Bill Rodgers in the wake of Monday’s tragic bombing.

‘Boston Billy’ Won’t Stop Running

I wanted to go see Bill Rodgers, because when I was a kid growing up in Massachusetts, Bill Rodgers was what I thought of when I thought of the Boston Marathon, not that acrid wickedness still under lockdown on Boylston Street. The hours since the bombings had been traumatic for the city, and in the aftermath there had been unimaginable grief. A joyous day, so meaningful to New England, had been devastated by cowardice. That’s why I wanted to see Bill Rodgers, the floppy-haired flier from Connecticut, who’d lifted this race like nobody else before him, winning it four times between 1975 and 1980—once, eccentrically, in a Snoopy stocking cap. Along the way, he helped transform distance running and became an improbable local sports legend, “Boston Billy” alongside Orr and Bird and Ted. Like anyone who ran and loved the Boston Marathon, I was sick about what had happened, and so I came to see Rodgers, and I had a big ask.

I wanted to go for a run.

And run they did.

You should read about it.