From My Perspective

Down Under, But Not Out

2009-03-22T14:10:00.000-07:00

Kia Ora! Greetings from New Zealand. It has been a month now that we have been here in New Zealand and though our schedule has been busy the last couple weeks, we have been enjoying every minute of it. The weather has been beautiful and warm and has been a nice escape from the cold, snowy winter we left in Michigan. We only have one more week here in New Zealand before we fly back to Michigan where, hopefully, the weather will have warmed up a bit since we left.

As many of you may already know, Nick is taking some time off his running due to a hip injury. We were pretty disappointed to discover this injury a few days into our time here in New Zealand. The hardest part about this was that it meant that Nick was not able to compete in the races here that he had planned to. Originally he had planned to compete in the Milestone Mile down Jackson street in Petone and the International Track Meet in Christchurch. After discovering that Nick would not be able to run for several weeks, he had to make the tough call to pull out of those races. But even though Nick was not able to run in the races, we still were able to attend and Nick helped with some of the meet promotion beforehand.

The Milestone Street Mile was a great event with kid’s races beforehand and then the men’s feature race won by Nick’s training partner, Rob Myers, who is here from the USA training for a month.

The International Track Meet was a great success held in Christchurch featuring some of New Zealand’s best athletes. Nick was able to help with some of the announcing and commentating during the mile which was won by Australia’s Jeff Riesley in 3.54. We were really impressed with the meet and are very excited for Nick to be able to compete in it next year when he is healthy again.

We are also looking forward to Nick’s coach, Ron Warhust, coming down to New Zealand in a few days. He has been invited by Athletics New Zealand to come give a coaching seminar for New Zealand coaches during the weekend of the New Zealand National Championships.

On a more personal note, Nick and I are enjoying this unique time of exchanged roles in our daily life. Usually Nick is the one running and training hard while I am the support. But the last few weeks, I have been focusing on my own running training more than usual, and Nick has been able to help coach and support me as I train. My goal is to run a sub-20 minute 5k. I’ve run half marathons before, but I’ve never really trained hard for a race--other than going for a few jogs to get in shape. I am often very tired from a hard workout or run and am understanding more and more how Nick must feel after his training. While Nick is still training hard with drills, stretching, and swimming, he has not been able to do his usual running training and has to settle for watching me do workouts on the track—quite a far cry from the caliber of workout he is used to doing. But none the less, we are enjoying getting a glimpse of each other’s worlds for this short period of time.

An Intermission

2009-01-19T09:32:00.000-08:00

As Nick and I begin to look forward to the start of his indoor racing season, I am caused to reminisce on the last few months and consider how they have been such a well-needed rest for us. It is easy to forget how important this intermittent time is for us and eagerly fix our gaze forward on the next part of our year. Naturally, we are quite excited to begin Nick’s indoor—and down-under—racing season. But while still anticipating a new season, we have suddenly become aware of how quiet and precious this time is before we begin the next several series of races—each one complete with it’s own travel, hotel(s), preparation, and emotional ups and downs.

Yes, I am confident racing season will come soon enough. But as for this moment, and as for this season in our lives, we are taking a minute to pause, breathe, relax and soak up the peace of this moment in our lives.

The last few months have been relatively quiet ones for us. Nick has been very dedicated to his training and steadily working hard every day. Having achieved many of his greatest goals last year, and with his new title of “2008 Olympic Bronze Medalist”, and his end-of-year world ranking at fourth, he is excited to uphold his new reputation in this year’s upcoming season. At the same time, while looking forward to having a great season, I have often heard him say that he wants to be cautious not to allow the pressure of that expectation to tempt him to over-train and over-work himself early in the season. He did such an amazing job of timing his peak perfectly last year, and I know one of his goals this year is to be able to have the good judgment to do that again—even with the new exhilaration of obtaining an Olympic medal last year. One of the great things about Nick as an athlete is that he is a competitor who thrives off of high-pressure situations. Not only does he somehow manage to remain cool-headed and calm under public expectation, but he actually manages to produce his best-ever races under the weight of that pressure. So, with that in mind, I feel confident that his season this year is going to be a phenomenal one.

Well Overdue

2008-10-23T14:07:00.000-07:00

I must admit that the longer I have procrastinated in the writing of this blog, the more daunting the task has become. With every day that passed, the job seemed to grow—like interest accumulating steadily over some unpaid debt. So here I am now, two months post-Olympics, searching and grasping for some way to even begin to describe the events of late.

Nick has both spoken and written about what that Olympic race meant to him. I can’t tell you the things he felt and experienced during his time in the Olympic village, or during his three races. That story is really only his to tell. But I can tell what it was like to be there, immersed in the excitement and emotion of the Olympic Games, and what it was like to watch my husband run one of the greatest races of his life.

I had often pictured what things would be like during that 1500 meters final. When I closed my eyes, I could practically see the race, picture the stadium and hear the roar of the crowd. As I imagined myself surrounded by it all, it was the noise I could hear more than anything. I heard it as it overflowed out of the stadium, filled the air and sent tingles down my spine. And in my mind, that applause was always for Nick. I couldn’t see it any other way.

I must confess that when that day finally came, I wasn’t paying any attention to the noise of the stadium, or anything else besides the man in black smoothly moving around the track. I sat—along with Nick’s coach, brother-in-law, and agent—on the home straight, about 70 meters from the finish line. We grew quiet as the race began, all nervous and silently hoping for Nick to run the amazing race we all knew he was capable of.

In the days leading up to Nick’s final, I had spent quite a bit of time with Nick’s coach, Ron, as we were both staying in the same hotel in Beijing. Over a few plates of Chinese food and a few glasses of red wine, we often talked about the final and what could happen. His comments summed up usually went something like, “Well, as long as he doesn’t race stupid, that boy could win a medal.” Those words echoed through my mind as the race began to unfold.

C’mon Nick. C’mon Nick. Race smart. You can do it. You can beat these guys. You can get a medal.

I mouthed the words as I watched, my eyes glued to the track, my heart racing. As they rounded the last bend, I vaguely remember screaming at the top of my lungs—I think we all were. As Nick sprinted past us, we could see him move into third position. My screams of nervousness turned to screams of joy. As they stumbled across the finish line and collapsed on the track, a wave of joy swept through us. He had won bronze! At least, we thought so. We anxiously awaited the results on the scoreboard. As his name appeared in third place on the board, our nerves melted into a sea of cheers and hugs. He had really done it! An Olympic bronze medal! We stormed out of our seats down toward the railing to wait for Nick as he completed his victory lap.

After what felt to be an agonizingly long wait, Nick finally spotted us on his way around the track. As he began to run towards me, I could see the tears streaming down his face. He stumbled across the track and collapsed into my arms. As we stood there hugging, I felt completely overwhelmed with emotion. I can’t remember what we said or what we did, but I do remember the feeling of that one moment. He had done something truly amazing in that race, and we both knew it. All the work we had put in towards this one goal was finally done.

Over two years ago, at the start of my relationship with Nick, I remember asking him what his goals were for Beijing. He replied quite quickly that anything less than a medal would be a disappointment to him. Although I hardly knew him at the time, his answer didn’t surprise me at all. In fact, I already believed the same thing myself. I didn’t think that because I had ever seen him race (I hadn’t), or because I was familiar with his running career (I wasn’t), but it was because I sensed—from just the tiny bit I knew about him—that he was a man who was capable of doing something extraordinary. And it was his personality and his character that conveyed that ability to me, not anything else.

I often like to journal in my free time, and it is from many of these journal entries that I often pick up ideas for my blogs. As I was paging through some of these old entries, I came across something I wrote a few weeks before Nick and I left for Beijing. People often ask Nick and me how we feel our lives have changed since the Olympics, and I think this entry helps explain our answer to that question well.

“As I see Nick train hard, as I watch him prepare mentally and emotionally for Beijing, I can’t help but dream about the great things that could happen in that Olympic final. And if my dreams are great, how much greater must his dreams be? How much louder is the crowd in his head when he closes his eyes? He and I both believe that if you want to win, before the gun goes, you’ve got to go into that race believing that applause could be for you. You’ve got to taste and feel victory as if it is right there in your hands. There is nothing we want more than to see that happen. But, at the same time, while still hearing that applause, we both have to know that come August 19, even if that applause is not there for Nick; even if all is silent, that does not change who we are.”

"Nick and I recently celebrated our one-year wedding anniversary, and what an incredible year it has been. We feel unjustifiably blessed far beyond what we deserve with our marriage, with our friends and family, and with Nick’s running successes. No amount of work could ever warrant just how much God has given us. But amidst all of these incredible blessings, and amidst some of the external changes to our life, we are still very much the same. Our goal was to find a balance of striving for the very best, while not arrogantly expecting it. We placed our hopes and dreams on that one race in Beijing—but not our every hope and dream. We did that so that when the race was over, no matter what the result—good or bad, we would remain grounded and centered in our lives, in our faith and in who we are.

Across the Atlantic

2008-07-31T05:42:00.000-07:00

The adventures have begun! On Friday, the 18^th of August, Nick, Steve and I parted ways with Caro and Bella and flew from Detroit to London to begin the sequence of travels that will ultimately lead us to Beijing. It was very hard to leave Caro and Bella, as they flew home to New Zealand. I had grown so accustomed to having them around for the last seven months, so it was very hard to say goodbye to them. I am already looking forward to Nick and my next trip to New Zealand when we’ll get to see them again.

After we flew to London, we stayed one night in a hotel before I departed at five A.M. the next morning to catch my flight to Italy. One flight, four buses, and one train later, I found myself in the tiny mountain town of Urbania, Italy. My sister and her husband have been staying there while she has been studying with the Italian Opera School based there. I had a great time staying with them and experiencing rural, small town life in Italy. The pace of life seemed much slower than anywhere I had ever been. People seemed quite content to just sit and talk with each other in the town square for hours on end—no obligations, no worries, and nowhere to rush off to. They would stay out until all hours of the night with each other. What was most surprising to me was that the people who seemed to be the most social, who stayed out the latest, were all over the age of sixty.

Hardly anyone spoke English in Urbania. But, despite the tough language barrier, and despite the fact that I knew absolutely no Italian before arriving, I left Urbania feeling quite proficient in ordering Gelato for myself.

While I was in Italy, Nick and Steve stayed in London at Saint Mary’s College, where the facilities for Nick’s training were very close and convenient—a track, cafeteria, and running trails all within a few steps of their rooms. They kept busy preparing Nick for his next two races—the Viva London Grand Prix and the Herculis Grand Prix in Monaco. They also kept busy making friends at the local church in town, and by the time I returned from Italy, they had already been to church once and been invited over twice to the homes of church members for meals. Once I arrived, I was able to go to church with them, where Nick spoke briefly about his faith and preparation for Beijing. Everyone there has been very encouraging and welcoming to us. What a great support to have Christians on the other side of the world willing open up their homes and their hearts to us as we find ourselves so far from home! It reminds us that wherever we are, the Church stretches far beyond just one individual building.

A few days after I returned from Italy, Nick raced an 800m at the London Grand Prix. It did not go as well as we had all hoped. The after effects of one of Nick’s recent workouts took quite a toll on Nick’s body, leaving his muscles quite sore for days afterwards. Going into the race, he still did not feel fully recovered from the workout. He gave it his best, but couldn’t quite seem to overcome the lingering repercussions of his training.

Three days later, he raced in Monaco at the Herculis Grand Prix. We were much happier with this race. He finished third in the race, running a time of 3.33.5. This performance reassured us that despite his disappointing race a few days earlier, his fitness is right where it needs to be and we can be confident that he is on the up-swing going into Beijing, and in prime standing to run some incredible races.

We were joined in Monaco by Nick’s sister, Mieke, and husband, James. Having them with us in such a beautiful place made it so much more enjoyable. Steve and I were able to spend some time with them before Nick’s race swimming and relaxing on the beach. After Nick’s race, Nick joined the group and we spent the morning snorkeling around the beach surrounded by huge schools of fish. Well, maybe I ought to rephrase that by saying that I mostly just watched the others swimming with the fish since I wasn’t quite tough enough to overcome my irrational fear of big fish. The ocean in itself is quite scary to me having been raised in Michigan, accustomed to fresh, shark-free water.

Currently, we are back in London staying at St. Mary’s College again, enjoying the small sense of familiarity we experience with this campus and town. Amidst our whirlwind of travels, it is nice to return to a place we know to rest for a few days before heading off to our next destination.

Before I Begin

2008-07-14T09:28:00.000-07:00

I’m not a runner.

I never have been.

I didn’t even run cross country in high school. As a result, I’m no pro when it comes to track. I get a little lost when people around me are speaking track lingo, rattling off times, races and great runners’ names. Before meeting Nick, the most exposure I had to track was watching Chariots of Fire at the age of eight.

I say this because I want to be honest about what this blog is meant to be. If you are looking for a complex tactical review of every one of Nick’s races and workouts, a running log consisting of mostly numbers and stats, you’ve come to the wrong place. That is not my intention for this blog.

I may not be a running expert, but I do know that running is about far more than just numbers. For Nick, every single part of his life has an impact on his running.

My hope for this blog is that you might see things a bit differently than the typical running article—that I might be able to paint for you a portrait of a man who is an athlete,
but also a husband, a friend, and a man of faith.

Nine months ago, Nick and I were married. Naturally, from the perspective of a wife, I believe that the man that I married is not just merely a runner. And while undoubtedly, my husband is a world class athlete, as a wife, I can no more separate the athlete from the man, than I can the man from the athlete. When I look at Nick, I see a man who is so much more than simply an athlete.

I may not be a runner. I may not know how many world records Hicham El Guerrouj has, and I may not be able to tell you what a “waterfall” start is. But I know my husband; I know what drives him; and I know why he works hard. That is the person I want you to know as well.