It is just 3 or 4 weeks after my diagnosis of Tourette syndrome (TS). I have been slowly and conscientiously titrating upward the dose of medication prescribed by my neurologist, waiting skeptically, but not without hope, for some amelioration of my tics. A typical scientist/patient, I have downloaded all available information about this drug from the Internet and have been recalculating the increasing dose in mg/kg body weight every few days. Today I have ducked out of my lab and am doing a very hard training run along the Muddy River in Boston, gearing up for my 21st year of spring and summer races, when I am caught unprepared by a flash of insight. I am speeding along the path with a smoothness and crispness of rhythm that I have seldom felt—maybe just one of those rare great days?—when it occurs to me that I am taking a good deep breath every four strides, in-and-out without fail, every four strides. And only at that moment do I realize that I have always suffered from “skipping” breaths, even on the hardest runs, and have always taken it for granted. Indeed, I have always assumed that all other runners' breathing is as ragged as my own. But now—how remarkable!—I am not missing a single precious breath. This, I realize, is because my phonic tic is gone. So my teammates and competitors must have never missed those breaths, not a single one, because they don't have TS!