One of Peter Marshall's best friends from high school came from Southington. So did a childhood friend, who went to Horace Porter School in Columbia with him and trained for the Hartford Marathon with him three years ago. Former co-workers. Neighbors. His kids. His wife Lisa's kids. Their first grandchild, bundled up against the cold rain. A friend whom he had saved from drowning drove three hours from Albany.
They all had their own memories of Marshall, who was completing his goal of running a road race in all 169 towns in Connecticut on a cold rainy Sunday in late November in Scotland.
"We were on a company trip," said David Marks, who made a three-hour trip from Albany to the northeast corner of Connecticut to watch Marshall cross the finish line of the Scotland Scoot 4-mile race. "We were both swimming in the ocean, and I got stuck in a rip current. I couldn't make it back to shore. He dragged me out of the ocean, and I was non-responsive on the beach for 17 minutes. Spent two days in the emergency room. But if he didn't drag me out, I wouldn't be here. I said, 'I've got to drive here to see the 169th race.'"
They came to let Marshall know he was in their thoughts. But Marshall's memories of them were fragmented and sometimes needed prompting. Sometimes he would light up, a broad smile spreading over his face. Other times his face would be blank. Or he would pretend, which his wife Lisa Marshall said is a common occurrence.
Or he would say, "It doesn't matter."
Marshall, 54, of Andover, was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's in April 2018. A fire protection engineer who moved to Connecticut to work for a global investment management firm specializing in insurance, Marshall was the kind of guy that if you had a problem, he could usually think of a solution, often innovative.
"It's been rough, watching his good days and his bad days," his stepdaughter Sarah Brehant said, as she stood under an umbrella with her mother Lisa, waiting for Peter to cross the finish line. "He started this journey five years ago, and he was fine. And now it's like I'm not even sure he realizes all these people are here for him."
"He does," Lisa said. "We had a long talk last night when we went to bed about how he needs to tell me when he doesn't know who somebody is. He'll go a whole day and he doesn't know somebody. He's real good at faking it.
"I think he knows what's happening now."
The rain poured down. Runners started coming across the finish line, where a bagpiper played.
"It's been very hard," Brehant said. "I'm trying to support her, but I'm like, 'How are you doing so good?' I don't get it."
"I'm a mess today," Lisa said. "I can't stop crying."
"That's because it's a bittersweet ending to something," her daughter told her.
"It's like I don't want it to end," Lisa said. "Because I don't know what's next."
