The pain started with a numbing sensation down Bill Albers' left arm. Then came the shortness of breath, followed by fatigue.
“I couldn't breathe,” said Albers, recalling the scene 21 years ago. “I had to sit down on the curb.”
What began as a casual walk ended with Albers seated for 30 minutes, bent over, four blocks from his Encinitas home. Then he walked back home and asked his wife to take him to the hospital.
The next day, Albers underwent a quintuple heart bypass.
He was 59.
Last Sunday, 21 years after the heart attack, Albers took part in the New York City Marathon, jogging through the city's five boroughs. He scaled the Verrazano-Narrows and Queensboro bridges. When thousands of spectators crowded First Avenue, Albers drifted to the side of the road, high-fiving fans.
“I felt like I was special,” said Albers, “because I'm 80 years old.”
In all, 37,899 runners, walkers and wheelchair athletes finished the 39th New York City Marathon. Albers placed 36,151st in 5 hours, 50 minutes. He finished second among athletes 80 and older.
Obviously, he followed instructions after his heart attack, when a doctor told him he needed more exercise.
“This man is miraculous,” said Albers' wife of 31 years, Sondra. “He truly is.”
Raised predominantly in Norfolk, Va., Albers graduated from the Naval Academy with a degree in electrical engineering. He flew an estimated 25 missions during the Vietnam War, dropping sensors along the Ho Chi Minh Trail, enabling military personnel to identify traffic moving from North Vietnam to South Vietnam.
Albers' role in the war was so secretive that his group was called the “Ghost Squadron.”
“Nobody knew about it,” he said.
His squadron was made up of a dozen 10-to 11-man crews. Three crews were shot down; 22 military personnel were killed. In one crew, everyone survived but one member.
Albers said he was fired upon more than once.
“You ran the risk every time you flew,” he said. “You tried not to think about it.”
Said Sondra: “The guys in his crew were younger (many of them teenagers) and he swore to himself he'd bring them back alive, all of them. That's one of the proudest things of his life.”
Last May, at the U.S. Navy Memorial in Washington, D.C., an admiral awarded members of the squadron the Presidential Unit Citation. The citation hangs on Albers' family-room wall.
Beside Albers' bed are more mementos: running T-shirts he has collected since starting road racing nearly 20 years ago. The T-shirts number about 40. There used to be at least 120, stacked 2½ to 3 feet high in four piles.
“He departed with some of them,” Sondra said. “Not enough, but some of them.”
At New York, Albers ran in a long-sleeved, white Carlsbad Half Marathon T-shirt. He wore a Naval Academy beanie. He stands 5 feet 11 and weighs 150 pounds, and he talks with a lilt in his voice that hints at wonderment.
He plays bridge, reads spy-thriller novelists Robert Ludlum and John le Carré and likes going to movies.
His most recent picture: “Mamma Mia!”
Asked for a review, he said, “The play was better.”
He tried snow skiing at 75 and wasn't smitten.
“He said he spent more time on his behind than his legs,” Sondra said.
He's not a particularly big fan of the marathon. New York was just his third 26.2-miler. He made his marathon debut in 1998 at the initial Rock 'n' Roll Marathon.
“It takes too much training,” he said.
His was not a love-at-first-sight affair with running.
“Sometimes,” he admitted, “it gets a little boring.”
But out the door he goes, five days a week, three to five miles. One benefit: He can eat as much bacon as he wishes. He used to be more careful about his diet. Now, he's not shy about sampling cheese.
“I'm beginning to think: 'I've lasted this long. It won't do me any harm,' ” he said.
He is hard-core about getting in his running. He also plays tennis twice a week.
“The guy serves as a wake-up call to a lot of people, the baby boomers,” said Kevin McCarey, one of San Diego's most respected running coaches. “Get off the stick and you can have a quality life. The benefits of exercise are incredible.”
Albers is also blessed with good genes. His father lived to 94. An aunt lived to 96. His grandfather lived into his 90s.
Asked how long he thinks he'll live, Albers said: “My wife and I have a contract until we're 100. After that, it's renewable.”
Don Norcross: (619) 293-1803; don.norcross@uniontrib.com
