Houston 2012: Olympic Trials recap

Warning, this is a long one. But there are lots of good pictures, so keep reading!

I think one of the reasons I am so strong mentally is because I can be so fragile physically. Most of my races have been fought with some kind of ailment: asthma, injury, GI distress, dizziness. It has been a rare occasion for me to race with a blank slate, the only concerns being what the day throws at me. Sunday was not a blank slate. My legs felt heavy from the start. My rib injury ached. The aid stations were too far apart. But, I was able to push through and run my goal pace. The discomfort was made easier by the enthusiasm of the huge crowds lining the streets. It was electric. I could not believe how many times I heard my name called, it was inspiring to know I had so many supporters out there.

Ok, so you know how your car has a check engine light that goes on before your car blows up? A warning signal to tell you, get the hell out right now, bad things are about to happen. My body does not have a check engine light. It blows up before I have a chance to make other plans. Out of nowhere, at mile 17, I started to vomit. For the next 2 miles, I continued to run/walk as I alternated between vomiting and dry heaving. That was all fine; I was prepared to run through it. What I couldn’t run through was the accompanying dizziness. I have dealt with paralyzing dizziness before and I have learned that I have two options, (a) stop and lie down until the dizziness passes (which can take several hours) or (b) keep going and pass out and get carted off the course in an ambulance (I have done that and it really sucks). Rather than have an unnecessarily dramatic exit off the course, I chose option (a).

And that is my tale of woe. There is a lot to be happy about, though, and that is what I am focusing on. Against all odds, I qualified for the trials. As I set new goals for myself over the years, I will remember this challenge and use it to get me through the rough patches, to know that it is possible to overcome the seemingly impossible.

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This is the very official looking credential.

The experience of the Olympic trials was amazing. The atmosphere was so much different than any of the previous trials I went to. This felt like a big deal. There was media hype. The hotel was decked out in trials posters. The hospitality suite was heavily guarded by armed police who only let in those individuals with proper credentials (ok, they weren't armed, but they were very strict). There were lots of athlete meals and functions. The athletes were made to feel important.


I do have to point out though, with all of the attention given to this race, why on earth didn’t NBC show it live?

Some memorable moments from the weekend:

• Some of the Boulder crew before the race.

Colleen, JZ, Katie, Amanda

• Instead of the XXL race shirt they handed out they should have given us shirts that read "I went to Olympic Trials and all I got is a crappy goodie bag"

Shirt, hat, plastic cup, pin, notebook: not very impressive

• There were very strict uniform specifications. Only one logo per article of clothing and the logo had to fit into a very small rectangle. Everyone had to bring their race outfit and anything else they planned to wear race morning, including sweats, back packs, watches, sunglasses, to the officials so they could be checked. Anything that did not meet their standard had to be taped over. I am talking, tape over the teeny tiny little Garmin logo on my watch and the teeny tiny logo on my sunglasses and the very unfortunately huge Running Republic of Boulder logo on my top (luckily the race number covered it up). 

Very professional looking tape job

• The athletes seem to enjoy a good arts and crafts project. The decorating of the water bottles was a BIG DEAL. There was a table set up with tape, pipe cleaner, and stickers, although most people brought their own materials. I came prepared with two types of duct tape, hot pink and blue with white polka dots (Target is so handy). I used silver pipe cleaner to make a handle.

Even Abdi, the guy in red who finished 3rd, got excited about bottle decorating

My awesome looking bottles

• The pre-race meeting was immense. Hundreds of athletes and their supporters crowded the large room. They went over every detail. Instead of wasting our time in a meeting, they should have figured out how to get more water on the course.

A very crowded room! The anxiety was palpable.

• You know how teachers say there is no such thing as a dumb question? Well, that is not true. Athletes ask dumb questions at race meetings. For example, one guy asked “Can we get outside assistance.” Um, really? This is clearly not your first race, so you should know that is race sin number one. Another asked, “Can we carry our own gels with us.” No comment.

• I started the race with gloves. Around mile three, I tossed them to the side of the road. I heard a spectator say, “Oh goody. A souvenir.” Please wash them. I used those gloves to wipe my very snotty nose.

• Just in case you were wondering, which you probably weren't, my last name rhymes with tiger. I heard lots of strange and inventive pronunciations of my last name during the race. I'm thinking of changing it now after hearing some better renditions.

• The aid stations are not at all like in triathlon or any other race you have done. There were 47 tables with 8 athlete’s special needs bottles on each table. At the very end of the 47 tables there was a table with cups of water and a table with Power Ade. It was nearly impossible to grab the special needs bottle and a cup of water. So, I never had any water. The tables were every 5k, not every mile like in most major marathons.

Can you see my bottle there, second from the left?

• I had the best cheering squad of any athlete out there. Mark, my good friends Billy and Lara (and baby Paige) and Russ and Eola Scott (parents of my friend Amanda who was also racing) donned multi-colored afro wigs and held up the funniest signs. Thanks guys, you rock.

You know how spectators always tell you "you're almost there" at  mile 5? Here is the truth.

Can't let the ridiculous uniform rules go unnoticed!

Sometimes you just have to state the obvious.

The awesome cheering crowd Tebowing. Unfortunately, it did not help me or Tebow on Saturday!

Field Filler: 2012 Olympic Trials Marathon

The 2012 marathon Olympic trials in Houston are a mere 10 days away. I thought this would be a good time to address a question my good friend Lara raised to me over the summer, “What do the Olympic trials mean to you?”

Each Olympic trials event has offered me an opportunity to compete against America’s best. Not even a National championship garners such a competitive field. I have borne witness to the nervous excitement of my fellow competitors, relished the undertones of “it could possibly be me making the team”. I have seen (and been) the walking wounded. Everyone is there riding on the coattails of hard work, heart ache, and supreme dedication. 

The Olympic trials are a spectacle, qualifying is an honor, competing is exhilarating. Like any sporting event, there are pre-race predictions, athletes are hyped, and experts pontificate on how the races will unfold. The beauty of sport, and the reason why races are contested, is that nobody has a crystal ball and ultimately surprises happen on the big day. I love being a part of all of that.

My own experiences at the Olympic trials have been varied – the purposes of each race have been different, yet each one has helped me grow as an athlete.

When I competed in the swimming trials in 1988, my motivation was to gain national experience and observe firsthand the inner workings of making an Olympic team. I had no illusions that I would place in the top 2 of my events; I was there solely as field filler. If it were a ballet, I would be in the company. If it were a movie, I would be an extra. My role at the trials was an important one; certainly nobody wants to attend a swim meet with 10 people in each event. Hence, the majority of the field is there to round out the events. And in typical American dream fashion, perhaps a field filler athlete would defy the odds and catapult onto the world stage by making the Olympic team.

I viewed the 2000 marathon Olympic trials as a dress rehearsal for the triathlon Olympic trials which were 3 months later. It was a chance to shake off the cobwebs and learn from the mistakes of the top contenders. While I was intent on running a personal best, there was no pressure. I lapped up the enthusiasm of the spectators, riling up the troops that were lining the section of the race that went through Fort Jackson by getting them to cheer me on. And, on this occasion, a field filler athlete won the event, toppling the pre-race favorites.

I competed in three triathlon Olympic trials. They could not have panned out more differently. In 2000, I improbably qualified for the Sydney Olympics. I hobbled into the 2004 trials with an ongoing back injury. I ended up pulling out during the bike. After a 2 year hiatus from ITU-style racing, I decided to make one final attempt at qualifying for the Olympics in triathlon in 2008. While I missed the team, I finally got the needed closure from that style of racing and later that year I won the Ironman 70.3 World Championships, softening the blow of not competing in the Olympics.

And that brings me to the 2012 marathon Olympic trials. Once again, my role is that of field filler. A record number of women qualified for these trials, a testimony to the growing long distance running talent in the US. And, for the first time ever, the men and women will be competing on the same course on the same day. The Houston marathon and half marathon take place the day after trials – built in spectators? The looped course makes viewing the race friendly (although all too easy to step off if the day goes awry). 

My two objectives for the race are simple: 1. run the best race I possibly can on the day and 2. savor the moment, because you never know if you get another chance.

CIM - Olympic Trials Qualifying

The day before the California International Marathon I was confronted with two very tough decisions, both involved water bottles.

Many marathons offer the elite runners tables at the aid stations to place special fluids. This is an incredible perk, one I did not have available at the LA marathon in March (I actually used a fluid belt and carried a bottle with me). The athletes go to all kinds of trouble to decorate their bottles in an effort to make them stand out. When I got to the hospitality suite with my strikingly unadorned bottles, I realized I would need to remedy the situation.

This was my first dilemma. What could I use that was available in the room to beautify my water bottles so I could easily detect them on the fly? I got creative and used some pink and silver packing tape and ripped up some note paper to make my name and number visible.

I was quite proud of my artistry, but it seriously paled in comparison to the bling that some of the other athletes placed on their bottles.

This particular bottle, though, wins the contest for best dressed.

The second quandary was choosing which 5 aid stations to place my special needs bottles out of the 17 total aid stations on the course. This may seem like a trivial issue, but I assure you this is a very strategic problem. Should I evenly space the bottles? Should I front load the bottles? What happens if I miss a bottle? In the end I chose to place them at miles 5, 10.3 15.5, 19.3 and 22. I successfully retrieved the first 4 bottles and somehow missed my last one. Luckily I had an extra and Power Gel and SaltStick tablets to keep me going.

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Tell someone you are running the California International Marathon and they will reply “Wow, that is a really fast course.” What a ridiculous comment. The course is only as fast as the runner who runs it; it is like saying a high tech bike is fast, which it isn’t if the rider can only manage 10 mph. Anyway. Here is the course profile.

The eye immediately notices the marked downhill nature of the course. What the eye does not immediately notice is all of the bumps that comprise this net downhill. Take a closer look. The starting elevation is 366 feet and the finish line is at 26 feet. Yes, that is a quite a large drop. But. It really isn’t. You see, if the course dropped from, say, 10,000 feet to 2,000 feet, then it would be almost entirely downhill. This course is made up of lots and lots and lots and lots of rollers. It is up and down the entire way until the end where it flattens out. It is a grind and a killer on the legs.

My race strategy was to run behind the designated pacer, a fellow brought in to help the hopefuls acquire the Olympic trials standard of 2:46.00. A gaggle of women followed behind what one racer declared was “the luckiest man in the race”.  After a mile or so of tripping over the people around me and altering my gait to stay in the pack I made a decision to move ahead and run my own race.

Luckily, I found another pack of 4 men and women to run with and through 24 miles I sailed across the course easily running up the hills and floating down the hills. For the first time ever, I felt like a runner. I was smooth, in control, charging forward with purpose. It was amazing; until it wasn’t.

The last 2 miles I started losing control of my limbs. I stumbled over my own feet. My form deteriorated making me feel like a marionette. I stopped checking my pace. I started calculating in my head how many more minutes I had left to run. They ticked by ever so slowly. I was relieved, elated, emotional, when I crossed the finish line in 2:43.48 a PR by 3.5 minutes. I was 6th overall and 4th masters. Those old ladies are fast.

Qualifying for the Olympic trials in the marathon was a goal set almost on a whim earlier this year. It took three tries with a series of ups and downs that tested me physically and emotionally. Was it worth it, you ask. Unquestionably!

I cannot say enough thank you's to my friends, family, supporters, therapists and well wishers. All of you make all of this possible.

Goal setting 101

“You can achieve whatever you want if you try hard enough.” This overused adage, in my opinion, is false and misleading. It is true, that often, when goals are set they are met. But, it is also true, that one can devote months or years of time and energy into accomplishing a certain goal and that goal may never be met. Realizing a goal requires more than blood, sweat and tears. There is also luck, timing, and savvy.


I believe there are four potential outcomes on the road to working toward a certain goal (the “goal” in question can be anything: business, sports, family, hobby):

1.    The road is smooth and the goal is successfully realized.
2.    The road is rocky, but the goal is achieved.
3.    The road is smooth, but the goal is not attained.
4.    The road is rocky and the goal is missed.

This is not a dose of pessimism. It is realism. Goals do not care if you are deserving, nice, or hard working. Achieving a goal is a complex equation that usually cannot be figured out prospectively. It is often, only in retrospect, when all the factors are reviewed, can one say why things went right or wrong.

That brings me to my own goal: qualifying for the Olympic trials in the marathon. I decided in February, when it became apparent I would not be able to compete in triathlon, that I would dedicate my time and effort to running. I am a very goal oriented person and I needed something tangible to focus on. A goal that was lofty, but not totally out of reach. A goal that would keep me going when things got tough in life or in training. A goal that would leave me with a feeling of accomplishment, whether or not the goal was met.

My first attempt at qualifying was the LA marathon in March. I missed the standard by 2 minutes. Undeterred, I ran several races over the ensuing months building up to my next try at qualifying. That race is on Sunday in Minneapolis. I chose the Twin Cities Marathon because it serves as the Masters national championships and is believed to be a fast, scenic and enjoyable race.

My road to Minneapolis has certainly been a rocky one. I started this endeavor with a serious injury, and despite all of my best efforts, the injury still lingers. The injury has dictated whether my races have been a PR or a DNF. The injury has allowed me to run a fast workout or walk home frustrated. Throughout this entire process I have believed that I can run fast enough to attain the Olympic trials time standard and that belief has buoyed me when the injury has flared up and could have left me prostrate on the couch.

In pursuit of this goal, I tested myself physically and mentally. I had the typical ups and downs. I was forced to be patient. I had to make some tough decisions. I have made new friends and tried new things.

Goal setting is more than just achieving a goal. It is about growing as a person. It is about reveling in the accomplishments met along the way. Sometimes the road to the goal is more important than the goal itself. I have no idea what Sunday will bring; it will either be outcome 2 or 4 above. Even though my road has been rocky, I have not been defeated by an injury that has desperately tried to defeat me, and that is a victory in itself.

2:46.00

The last open marathon I ran was in LA ten years ago. In total, between 1993 and 2001, I ran 12 open marathons. My biggest achievement as a marathoner was 30th place at the 2000 Olympic Trials in a personal best of 2:47.03.

Triathlon eclipsed my marathon running. The season began earlier, ended later, and I started doing multiple Ironman races each year. I substituted marathons with half marathons and suddenly a decade has passed since my last marathon attempt.

With my cycling derailed by injury, I started slowly increasing my run volume. As my running progressed in both speed and duration, a crazy idea popped into my head. Wouldn’t it be fun to try to qualify for the 2012 Olympic Trials? And by fun, I mean an interesting challenge, because truly, running marathons is not really that much fun. If you have ever run an open marathon, you know that the fun stops around mile 16 and does not return until the finish line has been crossed and you are lying down.

My thought was to run the LA marathon. Aside from the synchronicity of it being the last marathon I ran, I enjoy racing in California. The trip from Colorado is simple, my family is there, and I get an extra hour of sleep. Additionally, the new course passes oh so close to my sister’s house that if I need a potty stop or a nap it can be easily done without wasting too much time. And, I figured it would give me plenty of time to run another marathon should I miss the time standard.

I laid out a plan that included varying workouts of speed and tempo. I started doing some double runs. My long runs, once capped at 2 hours, reached 2:30. I handled the mileage well, but I could not commit to such an endeavor until I ran the successful half marathon in San Diego.

You may be wondering how I can be so audacious as to think I can run a personal best by over a minute at 6 weeks shy of 41. Even though eleven years have passed since I set my best time, I have several things in my favor. My run form is much better now; I have worked hard with running experts to maximize my biomechanics. I have corrected many of the muscle imbalances that plagued me in the past with consistent and targeted gym work. I train smarter. My nutrition has improved. I have more respect for the distance now than I ever did in the past.

The race is March 20. The time to beat is 2:46.00. Let the fun begin!