The finish line came too soon for Jimmy Hamilton, a runner who loved Gasparilla's 15K. What would make a seemingly healthy person drop in his tracks?
By JEFF TESTERMAN
Published May 27, 2004
[Photos courtesy of the Hamilton family]
Jimmy Hamilton, 34, a regular visitor to his doctor, had no inkling of any health problems.
Jimmy and his mother, Ciana Hamilton, with Parker Lyons, his 6-month-old nephew. Jimmy was so excited about the new arrival that he took charge of decorating the nursery.
“He was selfless,” says Jimmy Hamilton’s sister, Jennifer Lyons, posing with her brother at her wedding.
TAMPA - Jimmy Hamilton logged hundreds of miles a year running, most of it alongside the ornamental balustrade on Tampa's Bayshore Boulevard.
It was his favorite place to run. It was the one place he chose to race. Most years, Jimmy couldn't wait to line up for the Gasparilla Distance Classic, the 15-kilometer race along Bayshore and back that attracts thousands of runners with the promise of cooling breezes off the bay and expansive views of downtown Tampa.
This year was different. Jimmy's training had suffered. He felt tired.
He'd been traveling a lot in his job as vice president in the audit division of Citibank. He was stressed out from the headache of trying to sell his old house and get on with the construction of his new place, a grand home a stone's throw from the Bayshore balustrade.
He decided to pin on a Gasparilla number at the last minute, even though he would have to run alone. His usual running partner, brother-in-law Todd Lyons, had to work the night shift the night before the race.
Lyons, 30, was four years younger than Jimmy. He was a well-conditioned Temple Terrace police officer and a former Air Force staff sergeant who served with U.S. Special Operations.
But he couldn't keep up with Jimmy over Gasparilla's 9.3-mile course.
"I'd talk about being winded when I ran with Jimmy," Lyons said. "But he never complained. He seemed naturally gifted when it came to running."
Jimmy took good care of his finely tuned body. He went to the doctor when so much as a cold overtook him. He got regular checkups, the way men 15 or 20 years older are supposed to. At his last exam, in the fall, he was given a clean bill of health.
"He ate very healthy, he worked out regularly," said Jimmy's mother, Ciana Hamilton, 54, a paralegal for a downtown Tampa law firm. "I think he tried to run every day that his work permitted him to."
Early on the morning of Jan. 24, Jimmy pulled on the thick Thorlo socks and size 11 Saucony running shoes his mother had given him in December for his 34th birthday. He crowded in among the runners at the starting line near the foot of Franklin Street and awaited the starting gun.
Jimmy knew he would get a lift as he ran past his new home, being built on West Bay Vista. He would pass it twice during the race.
The new home, one lot off Bayshore, would feature a 400-square-foot balcony with a view through moss-draped oaks of the race course, the balustrade and the waters of Tampa Bay. Jimmy had visions of family and friends one day enjoying the race and Gasparilla festivities from the broad second-floor balcony.
And, after months on the market, Jimmy's old home, a two-story on Prospect Road, a short run from Bayshore, was finally being sold. In fact, a couple had an appointment with his real estate agent to make an offer that morning.
Jimmy had worked hard for his dream home. After this race, his mother said, he intended to take a well-deserved rest.
* * *
In previous years, Jimmy's pace in the Gasparilla race had been 8 minutes, 15 seconds per mile, fast enough to beat much of the field.
This year, despite perfect running weather, with temperatures near 50, Jimmy struggled as the race wore on. His pace was near 10 minutes, 15 seconds a mile.
As he passed the shell of his new home on West Bay Vista for the second time and approached the 7-mile mark, he hugged the inside median of Bayshore, staying near water stations and occasional patches of shade.
His pace became more labored. Suddenly, he appeared to trip and stumble forward. Unable to break his fall, he crashed to the pavement. He did not move again.
Jimmy's run ended near the intersection of Barcelona and Bayshore, precisely 1.1 miles from his house on Prospect and 1.1 miles back to his dream home on West Bay Vista.
Nearby runners summoned emergency medical workers, who treated Jimmy before taking him to Tampa General Hospital, just across from the Gasparilla finish line.
At 9:22 a.m., as back-of-the-pack runners were still shuffling across the finish line outside, a doctor declared that Jimmy, seemingly in perfect health when the race began, was gone.
* * *
Jimmy's death hit his family hard. He had been so fit, so vibrant, so much a part of their lives.
The Gaither High School graduate had worked his way through the University of Tampa and had traveled the world, but he always returned to find time for friends and family.
"He was selfless," said his sister, Jennifer Lyons. "He never expected anything in return."
Jimmy gave away his kid sister at her wedding. He came up with the name Parker for her first baby, born in November, and was so excited about his new nephew that he poured himself into the complete outfitting and decorating of the nursery.
On a rare day off the Monday before the race, he made time to take his grandparents out to lunch.
When his mother moved to a new home, Jimmy bought her a houseful of furniture.
"He said, "You've done without so long to take care of Jennifer and me, I want to buy you this furniture. I have the money now. I can do it,' " Mrs. Hamilton recalled.
How could a young man so seemingly healthy and full of life have died so suddenly?
It fell to Dr. Sam P. Gulino, an associate medical examiner for Hillsborough County, to find out.
Jimmy, at 6 feet and 178 pounds, appeared well-developed and well-nourished. His coronary arteries were unobstructed. A toxic substance screen detected no drugs in his system.
The tipoff was Jimmy's heart. It had thickened walls and was significantly larger than it should have been. A normal adult heart weighs 310 grams. Jimmy's weighed 490.
Even for a well-conditioned athlete like Jimmy, that's too large. Gulino suspected a particular genetic defect and examined a tissue sample to confirm his theory.
Healthy cardiac cells line up in nice, orderly rows. Under the microscope, Jimmy's were in disarray.
In more than 3,000 autopsies, Gulino had seen this just a handful of times, but now he knew: Jimmy had been killed by a condition called hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, an abnormal thickening of the heart that afflicts perhaps one person in 500 in the United States.
In 2000, 1,516 deaths in America were attributed to hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
Frequently, the fatalities occur during strenuous exercise. In the past three years, hypertrophic cardiomyopathy was blamed for the deaths of a 15-year-old basketball player in Pennsylvania, a 16-year-old soccer player in California and two teenage football players in Texas.
The American Heart Association lists hypertrophic cardiomyopathy as the leading cause of sudden cardiac death among young athletes.
It kills in two ways. The thickening of the heart may cause an obstruction that inhibits blood flow. Or the condition may result in arrhythmia, an irregular heartbeat created when the heart's electrical system goes haywire.
The latter is probably what happened to Jimmy during Gasparilla.
The combination of the thickened heart plus the trigger of exertion "can cause the electrical system to spin out of control and result in ventricular chaos," said Dr. Michael Ackerman, a cardiologist who directs the Sudden Death Genomics Laboratory at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minn.
Unless there is rapid defibrillation to restore a normal heartbeat, the outcome can be fatal.
The tragedy of the disease is that, although it is usually inherited, there may be no warning signs. In Jimmy's case, there was no family history of the disease. He never complained of chest pains, dizziness, lightheadedness, palpitations or shortness of breath, any of which might signal hypertrophic cardiomyopathy.
"It may have been completely unforeseeable," Ackerman said. "Sudden death certainly can be the first symptom of the disease."
* * *
Typically, hypertrophic cardiomyopathy is passed down from one family member to the next. Jimmy's death, then, was a warning to his immediate family that they might be in danger.
"You can have the genetic defect and live forever, or you can be a toddler and die suddenly," Ackerman said. "The main thing is that if you have a family history, you need to be evaluated."
If the disease is detected, treatment is available. Medication can reduce blood pressure. Surgery can repair the heart muscle. A defibrillator can be implanted to regulate the heart's electrical impulses.
In a letter summarizing Jimmy's autopsy results, Gulino informed Mrs. Hamilton of the genetic risk. He advised family members to see their doctors and consider a checkup with a cardiologist.
Mrs. Lyons urged her mother to cut out all strenuous exercise, so she stopped using the cardiovascular machines at the gym and did nothing more taxing than walking. Then, Jimmy's mother and sister began making doctors' appointments.
In late April, they each got an electrocardiogram, to measure the heart's electrical activity, and an echocardiogram, an ultrasound scan that produces an image of the heart. The tests showed that neither woman had hypertrophic cardiomyopathy.
Tests for Parker, Jimmy's 6-month-old nephew, also were negative. But doctors said he'll need to be checked regularly well into adult life, since the disease sometimes takes years to manifest itself.
Jimmy's relatives still don't know whether his family carries the disease's gene. Jimmy's condition may have been caused by a mutation, meaning only he carried it.
"I'm still collecting Jimmy's medical records and trying to find answers," Mrs. Hamilton said.
Meanwhile, Jimmy's West Bay Vista home has been listed for sale by his longtime business partner, dental company executive Timothy Hill.
The house with the winding staircase and the broad balcony overlooking Bayshore was the culmination of a decade of South Tampa real estate rehab ventures for Jimmy, who did everything himself, from cabinetry to tile work.
Jimmy started in 1995 with a $45,000 condo. He sold it and bought a two-bedroom place, then a three-bedroom house, then the four-bedroom, four-bath home on Prospect, purchased in 2000 for $327,500.
The West Bay Vista lot cost $275,000, and the finished home with the two-car detached garage and pool was planned to be what few 34-year-olds enjoy: a million-dollar house.
Many of Jimmy's family members expect to get glimpses of the finished home next year, when they run Gasparilla's 15K in commemoration, to finish the only race Jimmy could not.
His uncle, Joe Rojas, usually a 5K runner, plans to lace up Jimmy's size 11 Sauconys and run all 15 kilometers, as long as he gets clearance from his doctor. Todd Lyons, Jimmy's running partner, will be there. Jimmy's mom and sister also intend to train for and complete the race, even though they are not runners.
Family members want to go the distance for Jimmy, his mother said. "Just to let him know we're still there."
Times researchers Kathy Wos and Kitty Bennett contributed to this report.
