The 1904 St. Louis Olympics were a chaotic spectacle of early 20th-century athleticism, best remembered for a marathon so bizarre it could double as a survivalist reality show. Among the grim highlights was the use of strychnine—a lethal poison—as a performance-enhancing drug. Yes, the same substance used to kill rats was once considered a viable pick-me-up for exhausted athletes.
The infamous case involves American runner Thomas Hicks, who was fed a cocktail of strychnine sulfate and brandy by his trainers mid-race. At the time, strychnine was known to stimulate the nervous system in tiny doses, and desperate coaches believed it could revive fading athletes. Spoiler: It worked, sort of. Hicks, hallucinating and barely conscious, staggered across the finish line first, only to collapse and require immediate medical intervention. He survived, but doctors later declared him “lucky to be alive,” which isn’t exactly a glowing endorsement of his training regimen.
The 1904 marathon itself was a disaster. Held in 90°F (32°C) heat on a dusty, hilly course with only one water station, the race saw 18 of 32 starters drop out. One runner was chased a mile off course by wild dogs; another hitched a car ride to the finish. Hicks’s “victory” became a grim lesson in early doping culture. Back then, there were no anti-doping rules—just a Wild West approach to sports science where brandy, raw eggs, and rat poison counted as “nutrition.”
Strychnine, for the record, is a neurotoxin that causes muscle spasms, seizures, and death in doses as small as 50 mg. Hicks’s team administered it repeatedly during the race, chasing it with brandy to “neutralize the taste.” Unsurprisingly, the International Olympic Committee later banned such practices, though not until 1967. Today, the idea of poisoning an athlete for gold seems unthinkable, but in 1904, it was just another Tuesday.
The 1904 Games were riddled with oddities, from a ten-year-old boy entering the marathon (he dropped out after 14 km) to a Cuban postman who hitchhiked to St. Louis, lost his shoes, and ran in street clothes. Yet Hicks’s strychnine saga remains the standout cautionary tale. It underscores how far sports medicine—and common sense—have evolved. Modern athletes might gripe about drug tests, but at least they’re not chugging rat poison between laps.
So, the next time someone complains about the strictness of anti-doping regulations, remind them of Thomas Hicks. His near-fatal “performance enhancer” proves that sometimes, the real Olympic spirit is just surviving your own trainers. And if nothing else, the 1904 marathon taught us one thing: Never trust a coach offering a “special” energy drink.
