Defying the odds

One morning in 1997, during an outpatient clinic in Slavonski Brod in Croatia, a middle aged man came in and greeted the doctor with a broad smile. When the doctor addressed him by name I remembered the newspaper articles about a former drug addict who had suffered from cerebral palsy from early childhood and became a supermarathon runner. This was the same man, Tadija Opacak. He came for regular checkups. After this checkup I invited him for a cup of coffee and he gladly accepted. I heard his life story.

He was born as a healthy twin in 1960 in Derventa, Bosnia and Herzegovina. While his twin brother grew up normally, Tadija became ill with cerebral palsy when he was 6 months old. "I learnt to walk without assistance at the age of 4 and even then it was with a heavy dragging of the left leg and the left arm was good for nothing," he grinned. There were seven more children in his family and they were poor. In 1962 they moved to Slavonski Brod, hoping for a better life. "I started school and was a pretty good pupil in the first four grades. The problems started when my father went abroad looking for employment." At that time, many fathers, who were usually the breadwinners in their families, had no other choice but to look for a better paid job in other countries.

"I was more and more aware of my physical handicap, of my family's poverty I was unhappy and I withdrew."

My addicted brother was my idol

"My elder brother was a drug addict. He became my idol, he looked so cool, and gave me attention and love I needed so much at that time." Tadija started smoking cigarettes when he was 7. At 14 he switched to marijuana and alcohol, started running away from home and sleeping at bus stations and in parks. He used to earn money for drugs by dope racketing. At the age of 19 he got a job, but also started taking heroin. "I lost the job because of my addiction, dope racketing, and conflicts with the police. My friends avoided and despised me. It hurt, so I tried to quit. I tried many medical programmes to get clean but none worked. I couldn't stay clean."

An accidental encounter with an Adventist Priest the least probable event in a Catholic Country finally worked. The priest noticed Tadija, desperate and lost, and approached him.

"This encounter changed my life," Tadija said. "Before that, I was completely incapable of establishing any normal social contact. The man showed me a way into a decent life. The members of the Christian community offered me help when I decided to give up drugs. In only three months I gained 20 kg and gave up cigarettes, coffee, and alcohol. The last time that I took dope was on 5 November 1984. I remember the date. Nothing since then. Nothing, not even cigarettes, let alone alcohol or coffee." Quitting the addiction was his greatest victory.

The friends from the community helped him to improve his walking by practising with him walking up and down the stairs of residential buildings. It required a large amount of discipline, much effort and pain, but his walking became better and more stable.

His flat became a refuge

"My mother died in 1986, and I was asked by the Church to take care of an old lady into whose apartment I soon moved. I also started selling religious books, earning just enough to make ends meet. The old lady died soon after, leaving me the apartment." In years to come, his apartment became a refuge for dozens of young people seeking a way out of drug addiction. Many of them had never felt parental love, some did not even know who their parents were. Tadija accepted them and they, in turn, respected him like a father, knowing that he would do anything for them. "By 1990, I started having problems with circulation, probably due to a drug addiction. The usual physical rehabilitation was of no help. I took the advice of a friend, an amateur marathon runner, and decided to start running. I went to the town's stadium and did my first lap. It wasn't easy. I didn't have to do physical exercise at school and I learnt to walk only after a great effort. When I made the first lap around the stadium I cried. I did another one, and another one, and then every morning before work I went running. Each day I did a few more laps." I could see the zeal of a sportsman all over his face. Obviously, he had found his passion.

He ran his first 7 km race in August 1992, and his first Olympic marathon on 2 May 1993, where he came fifth. In the same month he also ran a 61 km long supermarathon, coming 58th out of 120 athletes. "I had no chance against professional track and field athletes," he smiled, "so I decided to run supermarathons as an amateur runner. I dedicated my early races to seriously ill young people: two friends on dialysis who needed kidney transplants and a soldier with shell fragments in his head. We raised enough money, not just me, others helped a lot. But it worked.

My longest race

Tadija ran many more similar races but the culmination of his humanitarian achievements was the ultralong marathon from Prevlaka to Vukovar. "It took me six months of preparations, but I ran the distance of 913 km, divided into 13 sections, from 4 to 16 May 1997. That was my longest race. I cannot think of any other route in Croatia that could be longer."

"Is there anything in your life you are sorry about?" I asked, cautiously but he did not seem disturbed.

"Yes, I am sorry for all the people I dragged into the abyss with me. I must tell you because you are going to be a doctor. Even today, after 15 years of abstinence, I am still afraid of getting back on heroin. And that is precisely why I run more and more each day."

I had to write this story. Not as a story about sport or drugs, but as a story about a man weak and susceptible to temptation, but great and strong in overcoming even the most difficult of obstacles. I believe that every medical student and doctor should keep that in mind.

Matija Prka intern, Holy Ghost General Hospital, Zagreb, Croatia
Email: mprka@mef.hr


studentBMJ 2001;09:129-170 May ISSN 0966-6494