Kelly Whiteside

USA TODAY Sports

BOSTON — Their names were written on the corners of his racing bib. Martin. Sean. Krystle. Lingzi.

"They helped carry me through," Meb Keflezighi said after one of the most memorable victories in the Boston Marathon's 118-year history. Keflezighi became the first American man since 1983 to wear the laurel wreath. He did so when this city needed it the most.

With the backdrop of so much tragedy, in front of those gravely wounded in last year's attacks and in memory of the four killed last year, Keflezighi raised his arms in victory as he crossed the finish line at 2 hours, 8 minutes, 37 seconds. He looked up to the sky, then kissed the ground three times. He took a bow, then emotion won out as he put his hands over his face and broke into tears.

"As an athlete, you have dreams and today is where the dream and reality meet. I was just crying at the end," he said. "This is probably the most meaningful victory for an American, just because of what happened. It's Patriots Day."

Keflezighi's win was entirely unexpected. Turning 39 next month, his best days seemed to be in his past, especially given the Kenyan stronghold on the race. Since 1991, a runner from Kenya has won the men's race 19 times.

Throughout the race he kept thinking, "Boston Strong, Boston Strong, Meb Strong, Meb Strong." The strains of Aerosmith's Dream On, the tribute version, ran through his head. As the frontrunner throughout the race, Keflezighi was cheered by massive crowds from Hopkinton to Boylston Street.

"You got this, Meb," they shouted. "U-S-A," they chanted.

Keflezighi, wearing a red and white top and blue shorts, gave them a thumbs up or a fist pump in return. "I just used their energy," he said. "I take so much pride in being an American."

Keflezighi came to the United States at age 12 after his family, which includes 11 children, left the African nation of Eritrea to escape a life of poverty and a violent war with Ethiopia. When the family settled in San Diego, he spoke no English and had never raced a mile. His grades and athletic skills earned him a full scholarship to UCLA, he became a U.S. citizen in 1998 and ran for his country in three Olympics, winning a silver medal in 2004. In 2009, he won the New York Marathon, the first American to do so in 27 years.

"I've been a very fortunate person, from humble beginnings, from war-torn Eritrea, came as a refugee and the United States gave me hope," he said. He now lives in Mammoth Lakes, Calif., with his wife and three daughters.

On a day as sunny as the daffodils along the course, Keflezighi broke away from Josphat Boit, an American runner who was born in Kenya, midway through. By mile 17, Keflezighi had a minute lead over the pack. With three miles to go, the race belonged to Keflezighi until Wilson Chebet of Kenya began to close. Through Kenmore Square and onto Boylston Street, Keflezighi looked over his shoulder and pumped his fist. Chebet finished second followed by countryman Frankline Chepkwony.

Rita Jeptoo of Kenya defended her title in the women's race, setting a course record of 2:18.57. Shalane Flanagan set a fast pace early and finished seventh.

Keflezighi hugged Greg Meyer, the last American man to win the race, and he stopped by the medical tent to high five the first responders who rushed to the aid of so many when the blasts killed three and injured more than 260.

Last year, Keflezighi watched the race from the grandstand, leaving only about five minutes before the bombs went off. His brother was still there waiting for a few athletes running for Keflezighi's foundation to finish. "It was really tough. We were helpless, just started crying," he said.

He and his brother were reunited in a nearby hotel. "We both cried again today," Keflezighi said. "This time tears full of joy."

Three days earlier, Keflezighi stopped by the Harvard Club to speak to members of Team MR8, running to raise funds for the charity created in Martin Richard's name after the 8-year-old from Dorchester was killed last year. He met with Richard's father, Bill, and put his arm around his shoulder. Keflezighi has a daughter who's 8.

Like many who were near the finish line last year, Keflezighi has pondered the what ifs. How a few minutes, a change of position, made the difference between safety and harm.

"Martin was beyond his age," Keflezighi said. "To have that sign — 'No more hurting people. Peace' — says it all for me. ... His legacy will live on for a long time."

So will the man who ran in his honor.