In the same city, two years ago, Gil Dodds, the runner whose style outraged the copybooks but whose speed broke mile records, had forsaken track to preach the word of God. His old coaches had begged him to try running again. Finally he agreed. Explained earnest Gil Dodds, 28: "I prayed about it, of course. And my wife consented."
Last week the awkward, stubby, soft-spoken fellow whom sportswriters had incongruously named "The Killer" lined up against five others in Boston Garden, his spectacles firmly secured. For the first two laps Dodds lagged behind; then he spurted. As always, he ran by the...
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