August 6-14, 2005
IAAF World Track
& Field Championships
I arrived in Finland nearly ten days ago and have had a wonderful time
so far. The weather hasn't been cooperating with the track schedule
with a few events postponed because of heavy winds and rain. It's supposed
to continue with more of the same right through my 50km race. Perhaps
we'll get a replay of the 2004 Olympic trials race in Sacramento, though
I certainly hope not
The highlight of
the Championships was watching my friends race in the men's 20km racewalk
in an amazingly competitive race. Ecuadorian Jefferson Perez defended
his 2003 World title with a convincing though unexpected win. He had
shown only average fitness all season while others, including 2004 Olympic
medalists Brughnetti, Fernandez and Deakes had been dominating the early
season races. Deakes had to back out because of injury while Brughnetti
only made it to 10km before slowing and eventually dropping out. Spain's
Fernandez was up to the challenge, however, trading the pacesetting
duties with Perez and fellow Ecuadorian Saquipay. When the lead pack
crumbled to pieces, a small group of four was left to battle it out
for medal honors. Perez and Fernandez quickly picked up where they left
off two years ago in Paris with a stunning display of speed and strength
pulling clear of Saquipay and Spain's other contender, Molina. With
4km to go, Perez again accelerated and there was little response from
Fernandez who had to satisfy himself with the silver once again. Saquipay,
though physically up to the task, was pulled off the course for violating
the rules of racewalking. Molina, solid through to the line, finished
third for a lifetime best. For full results, go to the IAAF
page.
The women's 20km
the next day was decided very early on. Russia's top hope, Ivanova,
was the clear favorite and she did not disappoint. The only thing disappointing
is that a walker like her, clearly superior in technique and fitness,
is celebrated as a role model of our sport. She was caught in 1997 as
a drug cheat, stripped of her World Championships medal and suspended
for two years. The fact that she is allowed to come back, race away
from her competitors in world record time, and celebrate victory on
the award stand should upset every reasonable fan of the sport. The
other athletes in the race struggled with a challenging course, fought
vailantly and should be applauded, especially Feitor from Portugal who
saw a late race surge lift her into the bronze medal position. Results
are at IAAF.
Other highlights
of my time have included a sauna, playing Scrabble with new friends
on the US track and field team, short trips into downtown Helsinki to
see the sights, and an amazing excursion to Estonia a few days ago.
The trip was a treat on many levels, though a day later the thrill of
my first helicopter flight was tempered greatly by tragedy. John Nunn
and I took the Copterline helicopter service from Helsinki to Estonia
on Tuesday morning and back again in the afternoon. On Wednesday morning
we started hearing reports of a helicopter crash in the Baltic sea off
the coast of the Estonian capital, Tallin. Sure enough, it was the exact
same helicopter that we had flown on the day before. All 12 passengers
and two pilots were killed in the accident and sank to the sea floor.
It could so easily have been us, it's still a bit spooky thinking about
it. Tallin, however, is well worth the visit. It is a classic medieval
European city that was nearly untouched by the ravages of WWII. We climbed
to the top of the tallest church building for a spectacular rooftop
view of town. Narrow, winding streets lead slowly up to a fortified
hilltop where a traditional Russian orthodox church sits. Views from
the top of the hill take in both the ancient Old Town Tallin and the
glass skyscrapers of modern Tallin, capital of one of the European Union's
newest member states.
In the first few
days here, I was able to get in a great workout by jumping into the
Helsinki Marathon and following the course in a large 25km loop as it
wound around lakes and harbors from the Athlete Village area of Otaniemi
past the industrial area into the heart of Helsinki and back along a
maze of bike paths and narrow forest trails. The Finns have certainly
figured out the right way to develop a large city without excluding
the trees, water and other natural elements that make the country so
beautiful. In the city of Espoo, where the Athlete Village is stationed,
you can walk from residential neighborhood to commercial district and
think that you are out in the countryside, and Espoo is the second largest
city in Finland. The only thing disappointing about Espoo is that it
isn't pronounced the way it's spelled. They say 'Es-poe' and not 'Es-poo.'
I was ready with a bunch of toilet jokes, too. Darn.
The big race is tomorrow
starting at 11:35am. If the weather is anything like today, it will
be raining and the wind will be blowing pretty fiercely along the course.
As long as there's no lightning, I should be safe. I bumped into Australian
Jane Saville at lunch and she suggested I avoid the center of the course
along the tram line in the event that lightning does strike. Try to
stay away from metal objects. Good advise. The course could be a bit
of a challenge with a slight rise to it at either end and a few tram
lines to cross over at one end. A few of the 20km walkers said that
the return to the stadium gave them the most troble as it's a bit of
a climb. I don't see it being much worse than what we faced in Athens
and I was able to get through that. With a bit of patience, I'm sure
I'll see it through again. The field has grown a bit smaller with the
late pull-out of Nathan Deakes from Australia. The slight injury that
forced him out of last week's 20km race hasn't quite loosened up as
he had hoped, so he told me he won't be toeing the line tomorrow. That's
a shame, too, because I saw him as one of the favorites. Now it may
be a battle between the Russians, Spanish and Chinese. I'm sure there
will be a few others in the mix, too, but without heavyweight Korzeniowski
in the field, I'm sure everyone's thinking it's anyone's game this time.
That's all for now.
Time to bundle up and get some warm dinner in me. I really enjoy the
festive mood in the cafeteria. The TVs are on broadcasting from the
stadium. Hundreds of nations are represented in brightly colored rain
jackets and sweat suits with 'Kazakstan' or Deutchland' or 'Nederland'
on the back. It's so nice to see everyone getting along so well.
February 13, 2005
50km National Championships
With the bright, cheery frivolity of Disney World a distant blur in
the rearview mirror, the moment of truth approaches stealthily for the
competitors in the 2005 USATF National 50km Racewalk Championships.
If the distance they face isn’t enough to gain their respect,
the twisting circuit snaking past low shrubs, moss-draped cypress and
the bordering swamps is enough to suggest that this will be no ordinary
march. It is going to be rough. Alligators, snakes, and other creatures
of the over-active imagination lurk in the brackish waters. Deep pockets
of shadows, made more ephemeral than smoke by the hanging mosses, swallow
up the dotted line of dim orange cones on the approach to the parking
lot at the end Lake Louisa State Park’s farthest beach access
road. Two and half kilometers of pavement loop in a mesmerizing pattern
through the low-lying bogs and sandy hillocks of grass. Twenty times
the walkers will have to navigate this course, taking in enough fluids
and food to fuel their lean, taut bodies for over four hours of strenuous,
graceful and awe-inspiring locomotion.
A steady glow on
the horizon promises that the sun will soon flatten out the darkness
and bring with it the promise of a clear, sunny day in central Florida.
Small consolation for the rigors they will endure, and little notice
will be taken of such beauty by the end of the day. After 50 kilometers
of weaving one’s way around a snaking line of cones and bright
pavement, beauty rarely enters the conscious mind. Ugly thoughts, dim,
primordial lurkings are more common; the urge to quit, to seek solace
in a more trivial, less punishing sport, golf perhaps. Golf or shuffle
board, sports that remind us of our human fallibility in a more gentle
way. Miss the fairway often enough and you may get some dirt on your
otherwise pristinely white shoes. Nothing that a soft rag and a cool
drink can’t ameliorate at the end of the day. But the memories
of a 50km race can rarely be wiped away so cleanly and quickly. There
are the physical scars, the blisters and the cramping of the hamstrings
that leave you clutching your leg while you grind your teeth together,
sitting on a return flight home in coach class later that afternoon,
trying not to scream out and frighten your fellow passengers. The slight
limp as you shuffle quickly for the restroom in Denny’s after
downing a chocolate milkshake too fast and sending your stomach back
into spasms that you thought you’d left behind hours earlier along
the side of the course with a few kilometers remaining. And of course,
the psychological scars take longer to heal. There’s that dim,
almost bleak sense of self-importance you get upon completion of such
a test. It’s a feeling of smug superiority tainted with a healthy
dose of self-effacing reality. You feel that most people, the ones who
stare, shake their heads and grunt something about your sanity, are
somehow not quite as tough, not as cool as you. They have not reached
quite as far into themselves to find out what they are made of. And
there is the equally strong knowledge, in the back of your own mind,
that you wish you could be like them. Ignorant of the commitment it
takes, ignorant of the suffering that you endure and often seek on days
like this, ignorant of the knowledge that the first step you take after
crossing the line will be a bit easier, and the first time you lay down
to rest you will be resting more than just your body; your soul will
take a breath and you will relax in a way that most people wouldn’t
understand. You may smile, inwardly, and thank a greater power for the
strength to get through this day. You may just as easily curse all things
holy, especially the obsession that keeps you coming back here, to this
threshold, to this pestle that grinds you down, turns you into something
finer and more delicate, something that, with a stiff wind, might blow
away, something that with a sudden movement might disappear. So you
reach out with both hands to shelter it, like a flame on a cool night,
knowing that if this light inside of you were to go out, this passion
for this sport, something would be missing in this world. There would
be a tinge of sadness to your smile, a fondness that no longer brushed
your cheek in the morning to remind you of the splendor of your life.
And so you keep walking, guarding that flame, seeking that feeling of
self-worth, beauty. You cheer on those around you who also racewalk,
hoping that someday the strangers in the pickup trucks who shout you
down along the rural outposts of the world will stop to applaud your
efforts, will stop to offer you a glass of water and wipe your brow
of sweat. You are a 50km walker, and despite it all, you love it.
