Aimee Berg Archives - ��ϳԹ�� Online

��ϳԹ�� Sport Athletes Pay a High Price for Olympic Glory

Fred Dreier — Wed, 31 Jul 2024 20:13:47 +0000

Have you ever heard of ? The two-time world champion in canoe sprint won��Olympic gold at 19 in Tokyo. Now 22, Harrison is again a medal favorite in Paris. She’s taken a break from her other job, tending bar near San Diego, to train five hours a day for her 45-second Olympic race.

Does the name Daniela Moroz mean anything to you? She’s the fastest female kiteboarder in the world, and she won her first of six world championships when she was just 15 years old. Now 23, Moroz will be the sole American woman ripping through mistral winds off the coast of Marseille when kiteboarding makes its Olympic debut on August 4.

Familiar with Evy Leibfarth? America’s best female whitewater paddler, who is just 20, is competing in three events in Paris: kayak slalom, KayakCross, and canoe slalom. On Wednesday, July 31, she won bronze in the latter event.

These three American Olympians have the international victories and charisma to attain rock-star status in Hungary or France—nations where sports like kayaking and canoe sprint attain mainstream attention—or in countries with fewer Olympic medalists. Yet in the United States, they are largely invisible—even during the Games. This summer they will join 589 other U.S. athletes at the Paris Olympics. No matter if they win or simply compete, they will likely be overshadowed by heavily-marketed stars on the track, basketball court, and in the pool.

Stars of lesser-known Olympic sports face challenges that mainstream heroes such as swimmers Katie Ledecky and Caleb Dressel do not. In addition to training and competing, they must run their lives like businesses, managing their own costs and logistics for travel. They must constantly seek out sponsorship and financial backing. Many grapple with the psychological burden of asking friends and family for cash, and of winning with little fanfare. This lifestyle comes without a playbook, and managing it requires creativity, hustle, and plenty of luck. Moroz, Leibfarth, and Harrison have offered a rare look at how it’s done.

I Thought It Would Be a Full-Time Job

Harrison claims gold in Tokyo (Photo: Laurence Griffiths/Getty Images)

Victory came quickly and unexpectedly for Harrison, a Seattle native. Six years after learning to paddle at summer camp, she shocked herself by winning a world championship in the 200-meter canoe sprint at age 17. “What do I do now?” Harrison told����ϳԹ�� about the eye-popping result. Two years later, she became the first American ever to win Olympic gold in the discipline.

Canoe sprint has been on the Olympic program for men since 1936, but the International Olympic Committee only added women’s events in 2020. It takes most athletes years to perfect an efficient paddle stroke through the water. With no collegiate pipeline for up-and-coming athletes—and scant funding—the discipline attracts few athletes in the United States.

The discipline requires explosive strength. Harrison kneels in a lunge position in a shallow boat and propels the craft with a single blade across a 200-meter body of water. She takes 90 to 100 strokes per minute, and the boat boat is so narrow and unstable that it feels like she is balancing on a tightrope. In Eastern Europe, the sport is beloved and taught in schools, but not in the United States. Harrison knew that her sport wasn’t popular, but she also assumed an Olympic gold would bring more attention back home.

After Tokyo, Harrison pursued what she called “a real life.” She moved to Southern California, bought a motorcycle, made friends, and pursued a biology degree at San Diego State University. She debated whether or not to continue competing—ultimately decided to stay in the sport. She declined to disclose how much she earned from her sport.

“I was expecting it would be like a paid full-time job if I were to win in Tokyo,” she said. “I thought there would be more financial opportunities.”

She did ink several deals with sponsors Deloitte, Oakley sunglasses, and Plastex boats, and she earns a monthly stipend from the U.S. Olympic and Paralympic Committee. She supplements that with revenue from public speaking and from tending a bar near San Diego. She described her total income as “not super impressive numbers, but together it’s OK.”

Harrison has had to work part-time jobs to help her cover her expenses, even after winning gold (Photo: Laurence Griffiths/Getty Images)

The Paris Olympics could have a major impact on her financial standing. Canoe sprint athletes target just four major international events a year, and sponsors often offer cash incentives at major races like the Olympics and the world championships, which she won again in 2022.

“First versus fourth place determines what apartment I live in next year,” she said. “It’s extra pressure. It’s like: do I pay my bills or not? A medal will mean tens of thousands—if not over $100,000��in direct money you’re going to get versus not get—primarily based on your sponsors and what’s in your contract.”

This summer in Paris, the USOPC will also award $37,500 for each Olympic gold; $22,500 for silver, and $15,000 for bronze. But the difference between placing third and fourth can be 0.3 seconds, as it was at the 2023 world championships, Harrison’s first major loss.

Now that she’s a gold medalist and has experienced competition overseas, Harrison has recalculated her desire for mainstream attention and fame. In Germany or Hungary, for example, she’s mobbed by fans. That’s not the case in California.

“That’s what made me realize I don’t want that level of attention in my life,” she said. “I like the every-four-years you get your time to shine, then you can��go back to being a human being. I have a new level of gratitude for America not caring about my sport.”

CEO of Her Own Show

Daniela Moroz is the only American woman competing in Olympic kiteboarding (Photo: Clive Mason/Getty Images)

Moroz sometimes hits 45 miles per hour on her kiteboard, which is elevated about three feet off the water on a hydrofoil. She harnesses the power of the wind with a kite, and during a race, she must dodge other competitors and navigate buoys on the course.

When she’s not in the water, Moroz faces different challenges. She must do her own fundraising, and she manages six figures worth of expenses for competition and training. She books her own travel to competition in Spain and Oman, and also to training camps at coastal destinations where the wind is favorable. When she flies from her home in California’s Bay Area to competitions and camps, she must pack and transport a massive array of equipment: 25 kites, three boards, and five hydrofoils.

“I’m essentially the CEO,” she said. “It’s super hard, but you can learn so much.”

She’s been managing this lifestyle since she was 15 years old.

Moroz does have some help. Kiteboarding’s national governing body, U.S. Sailing, pays for her coach. Her family also chips in. During her recent training camp for the Olympics, Moroz’s mother, Linda, who is a judge for the city of Oakland, flew to France and helped cook meals and do grocery shopping for her. The meal preparation was necessary, so that Moroz could gain crucial weight during her preparation period.

But Moroz pays other costs—in 2023 she hired an equipment manager to help her oversee her gear, and she still pays him an annual salary. In 2022 she brought on an agent, who helped her attain a sponsorship with fashion brand Ralph Lauren. To help her stay sharp for kiteboarding’s Olympic debut, she hired a male kiteboarder as her training partner, and paid his travel and living costs in Marseille, where they spent more than a month preparing.

In total, Moroz said the year leading up to Paris cost her about $150,000—triple what she spent in 2021.

“You tend to spend more and more because you’re getting more coaching, more experts, more equipment, or you’re traveling more,” she said.

The international governing body, World Sailing, contributes no funding to top athletes, and the events operated by the governing body do not pay prize money. Instead, Moroz finds other ways to generate steady income. She negotiates performance bonuses in her sponsorship contracts and relies heavily on sailing foundations to help her mitigate expenses through grants or donations. She temporarily operated a GoFundMe donation page, and also sells merchandise on her personal website.

Over the years, Moroz has learned to ask people for money—a skill that she still finds challenging.

“I really struggle with asking donors for money,” Moroz admitted. “It’s so weird. They’re getting nothing in return other than being part of your journey, kind of. It’s super-awkward to be like, ‘Hey, I’m in this Olympic campaign. I need $150,000. You want to give me $20,000?’”

Fundraising of this nature has helped keep Moroz financially stable for several years, but it also nearly sank her career. In 2023, during the qualification process for the Paris Olympics, Moroz began to struggle with burnout. For the first time in her career, she didn’t feel like training.

“When people are giving you hundreds of thousands of dollars of their money to check these boxes, it gets really hard to justify not training,” Moroz said. “If you’re not training, then what are you doing?”

Eventually, she talked to a sports psychologist to figure out when to take a break.

“Even now, I’m not making any money,” she said. “I’m happily breaking even—because any time you’re making money, everything’s just funneling back into the campaign.”

Life-Changing Sponsorship

Leibfarth is already a star in her sport (Photo: ADRIAN DENNIS/AFP via Getty Images)

Of the three, Leibfarth seems to be the most financially secure. She turned pro at age 12 and signed a sponsorship deal with Red Bull energy drink at 17, a few months before she competed in the Tokyo Olympics. Leibfarth said brand representatives began speaking with her two years before they made an offer.

The deal has reshaped her position in the sport. Red Bull pays her to endorse the brand, and also gives her access to a sports psychologist and a nutritionist. She’s also made connections with other Red Bull-sponsored athletes, from video gamers to snowboarders. She said a conversation with a Swiss BMX athlete reshaped her attitude toward the Olympics and the increased media attention that comes during the games.

“She told me to say yes to everything,” Leibfarth said.

“It’s the reason I do what I do,” she said.

In addition to training for three disciplines and attending college online, Leibfarth is training to be an emergency medical technician. Fortunately, her Red Bull contract takes care of her expenses—there’s no time to squeeze in another job.

Leibfarth is coached by her father, Lee, and grew up near North Carolina’s famous Nantahala Outdoor Center, a paddling school and guiding company. The facility is now one of her sponsors.

In Paris, Leibfarth will be the first American woman to compete in three whitewater events in the same Olympics. First, she will paddle a kayak through a series of gates on a whitewater slalom course. Days later, she will do the same thing in canoe slalom—using a different boat and a single-bladed paddle to navigate a similar course. And finally, she will race in the newest whitewater event, KayakCross, in which four paddlers race each other down the rapids simultaneously .

It’s an arduous schedule, but competition isn’t Leibfarth’s only focus in Paris.

“There is, of course, so much media,” she says. “I love doing social media. I’ve had Instagram since I was 11. I’m on all platforms, and trying to get into YouTube.”

The Quest for Growth

Leibfarth competed in the Tokyo Games in 2021 (Photo: Getty Images)

Leibfarth��hopes to win a medal, and she’s excited by the prospect of bringing more attention to her sport. But she knows that winning won’t overhaul the American kayaking scene.

“I don’t think the sport will explode overnight,” she said. “So many kids don’t know it exists. No matter how I do, all it’s going to take is people seeing it and getting inspired. This is the first step.”

It’s a sentiment echoed by other athletes in other sports that operate outside the mainstream. But this type of exposure alone won’t change their situation.

Harrison, who already has one Olympic gold medal, knows that growth in her sport will require more than victory, attention, exposure, and time. “I’m only one person, one athlete. There’s only so much I can do,” she said. “It’s hard to completely change the game.” But if she does claim gold again, she said, “I’m excited to help people try to get this sport in a better place.”

For Moroz to win her sport’s inaugural gold medal after grinding so hard on the business and athletic side, she would be steeped in gratitude.

“It would mean everything to me,” she said. “But also to so many people who helped and, like, let me stay at their house or let me park my van in their driveway when I was training. I want to do it for them as well.”

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Is Shalane Flanagan the Fastest American Ever?

sperkins-pom — Fri, 29 Aug 2014 00:00:00 +0000

It’s no secret that Shalane Flanagan will try to become the fastest American woman ever to run a marathon this .

She said so.

But that means the Massachusetts native will have to chop at least 2 minutes and 26 seconds off her personal best and run faster than 5:19 minutes (and change) per mile to surpass Deena Kastor’s eight-year-old mark of 2:19.36 set in London.

To that end, Flanagan’s coach (Jerry Schumacher) and Kastor’s husband (Andrew) had a long phone conversation this spring about what it took for Kastor to slay the record.

The timing was no coincidence. At the 2014 Boston Marathon, Flanagan was on sub-2:19 pace through the halfway mark, only to get dropped, place seventh, and inadvertently pace the top four finishers to break the old course record. Her potential was clear.

And now, Flanagan has seen Kastor’s playbook. But Kastor said the two women haven’t discussed the record directly. If they had, Flanagan might have picked up some additional gems.

Keep Things Low-Key

“I think it’s great that Shalane put it out there,” Kastor said but “I don’t think I made a big deal about it. It was more a private goal, and what I worked for in practices.”

Treat Your Pacesetters Well

Two men will pace Flanagan on Sunday. In 2006, Kastor also had two male pacers – sort of. “I had a training partner run with me till about 20 miles, and stop,” she said. “Then there was a Kenyan hired by the race organizers but he didn’t have a watch on and was throwing up right before the 40K where my last water bottle was. So I forewent my water bottle and gave it to him because I could tell it was dehydration. He was puking green bile on my shoe.”

Run Like You’re Racing

“I didn’t want it to be just a monotonous march of clicking off miles,” Kastor said. “The pacesetters let me take charge in the beginning and I liked that because I was in a race and I needed to remember that. As soon as that last woman, Susan Chepkemei from Kenya, dropped off, the two guys came up. Then one dropped off, and the one without the watch carried me till probably about 24 miles.”

…and Race to Win

Kastor broke the American record for the first time in 2003, in London, “but I was third place,” she said. “In 2004, after the Olympic [marathon bronze] medal, I thought, you know what? I have the American record and I have an Olympic medal, but I’ve never won a damn race! Then my goal was to try to win a major marathon. In 2005 in Chicago I did. Since I was still in really good shape, I decided in 2006 to try to lower that record so it could stand a little bit longer. Well, it probably wasn’t my [exact] intention, it’s just that: Wow! I’m in really good shape. I want to run faster than I have before.”

Like Kastor, Flanagan has an Olympic bronze, in 10,000 meters, from 2008. Technically, Flanagan also has an American record in the marathon because track and field’s international governing body recently split women’s marathon records into two lists: times achieved in all-female races, and times set in mixed-gender marathons. USA Track and Field followed suit, so Flanagan holds the single-sex American record from her triumph at the 2012 U.S. Olympic Trials—although it is not her fastest time.

Know it Won’t Last

“Of course, for selfish reasons, I’d like my [marathon] record to stand longer. But the sport needs records to be broken. It’s just the insatiable nature of the sport—of wanting to continue to improve and achieve more.” Last weekend, Kastor set a masters world record in the half marathon (1:09:36) at age 41.

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Inside Meb’s Win at the Boston Marathon

sperkins-pom — Fri, 25 Apr 2014 00:00:00 +0000

A month ahead of the Boston Marathon, we asked Meb Keflezighi what it would take for him to win the race where he had finished third in 2006. At first, he was coy. And then he answered: “If they let you go, you gain confidence, spread the gap, and you’re going to be home free.”

Monday, against all odds, he did just that—during a mostly-solo effort that culminated in a victory and a new personal best time of 2 hours, 8 minutes, 37 seconds (just two weeks before his 39th��birthday). In the wake of his win, we caught up with Keflezighi to discuss exactly what was going through his head during his momentous run.

OUTSIDE: Did you plan from the outset to make a huge gap that would be impossible to close?
KEFLEZIGHI: Absolutely not!

How did you build your 80-second lead? Did you hammer or were you running steady?
Five miles into it, the pace slowed down. I said no, I’m going to make it an honest pace. Josphat [Boit of the U.S.] and I broke away after eight miles. I knew what was coming but I don’t know if he did, so—l decided to go.

How did you finally drop Boit?
4:31 or 4:30! [laughs] And he was probably slowing down. I could sense his breathing. He hit me once on the back of the foot. He apologized, but I knew that when people get tired they can’t really concentrate effectively.

You ran solo for most of the race. Is it as hard as everyone says?
Very difficult. Especially in a marathon. I’ve done it before, in a 15K, and the San Jose Half. For whatever reason, they didn’t want to go, or they miscalculated that they’re dealing with a silver medalist, a New York City champion, and fourth at the [2012] Olympic Games. At about 21 miles, I started looking back because I had no idea what was going on.

When you didn’t see anyone, did you think “Yay!” or “Uh oh”?
Both. “Yay” I think I can win it and “Uh oh” because I don’t know how many of them are will work together to catch me. My pace wasn’t outrageous. If I’m healthy, I can maintain it, but things got a little doubtful at mile 22, 23, down the hills when my quads were hurting. At 24, I felt like throwing up. Then I’m like: collect yourself. To my surprise, I was still running fast. At that point, I didn’t know if [Wilson Chebet of Kenya] was going catch me, but I thought about plan B. I kept extending the lead. Going toward Boylston, I used the curves to surge and tried to use the crowd to help me push.

Since Monday, have you talked to anyone else who was in the elite pack? Any idea why they let you get so far ahead?
I really haven’t. I talked to Nick Arciniaga [the top American finisher who placed seventh behind Keflezighi]. Nick did say something about the group—and I don’t know who was in the group. I can’t say. I wasn’t there. Abdi [Abdirahman] called me. ��He said there was talk about this and that. But he just said congratulations. You did the work. If they did [try to help], I will say thank you. ��At the same time, I was not in my comfort zone by any means. I was trying to extend the lead as much as I can, and trying to push the pace constantly to get to the finish line. They made a mistake and let me go early on. Racing is racing. If somebody wants to go, you can’t really them to wait. ��So I don’t know. I don’t know what happened.

From what I’ve read, Ryan Hall was telling the Americans not to surge or pace a chase. But do you really think the Africans would care about it if Americans with non-threatening PRs surged?
It doesn’t add up, it doesn’t add up. I don’t know. ��As a competitor, you can’t tell them to go this pace or that pace because there are so many guys who might say, you know what? I’m going to surge. They probably miscalculated who’s up there, and misjudged who I am. Guess what? It doesn’t matter any more.

Did you know you ran a negative split by five seconds?
I didn’t see what our halfway split was. I missed it. I asked Josphat Boit. He didn’t know. My Garmin watch said I was 13.79 or something. I was trying to do the math in my head. I just kept the same pace and said don’t worry about it—just go for the title.

What about your PR? Was that your aim?
My goal was to win the race, goal number one. Goal number two was to be on the podium.

Has anything unexpected since the Monday? Has your old sponsor Nike called?
No, I don’t think they will. But President Barack Obama called on Tuesday. He said you made America proud; it couldn’t have come at a better time; job well done. We talked for about three or four minutes.

He was president when you won the New York City Marathon, so it was his second call?
He never called me in 2009.

Have you had time to run since Monday?
I haven’t gone running yet. I can’t even walk right now. The wound on the ball of my left foot is so deep from 2007 at the Gate River Run and in 2011 the Breathe Right aggravated it. [In 2011, he ran the entire New York City Marathon with a Breathe Right strip in his shoe.] To this day, I’m still draining the blood blister and water blister. A couple doctors from the Red Sox drained it, and a doctor in New York drained it.�� Coach Larsen drained it. I drained it at least seven times myself [since Monday]. I was hurting bad going through those downhills. I had to dig deep to make it happen. I’m paying for it now, but it’s such a great honor to come in first.

Are you walking around in flip flops?
I can’t do that. I have to have a cushion. I’m not stepping on it. I’m more walking on the sides. Today’s the only day, with a cushion with a hole in it, I’m walking somewhat normal. Other than that, everything is OK, I think.

Do you have another marathon in you?
[Laughs] Eh, yeaaaaaaaah, yeaah, I think there is, but I haven’t run yet.

Given the way you won Boston—planned or not—would you ever run solo for half the race again? Is that your new thing?
Why not? If I’m fit and healthy. It was a calculated, good decision. I thought a few people would go with me but they didn’t and it worked out to my advantage.

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Eyes on the Pack: How Meb Keflezighi Will Blitz the Boston Marathon

sperkins-pom — Thu, 03 Apr 2014 00:00:00 +0000

American marathoner Meb Keflezighi doesn’t wind up on the podium—including the top spot at the 2009 NYC Marathon—from sheer luck. It requires months of hard training, perfect pre-race preparation, and some smart strategy once the race starts. That combination has helped him claim third place at Boston in 2006. He’ll be back in the hunt this year. We caught up with the 38–year-old to learn how he watches, waits, and makes his move to victory.

The Start:

I definitely like to be in the front, hopefully not in the lead. It’s a narrow start. You don’t want to get stuck in the middle. This year, the start is going to be very emotional.

If the Early Pace Is Slow:

You have to wait. Somebody will go. Kenyans usually hammer early, so you have to know their background. A couple days before the race, I’ll study names and numbers. If three or four take off, I have no choice but to go with them—just make sure those guys are legit. One might falter, two might survive. Or vice versa, but that one guy has it won already. Ethiopians will never take the lead. Never. They’re going to wait till the last 5K, the last mile, even the last 500 meters.

Once the Pack Shrinks:

You’re trying to beat their psyche. You have 25 miles to solve it.

If Ryan Hall Starts Singing Like He Did in the 2011 Chicago Marathon:

I always believe as elite athletes, we should make it very comfortable through 18 or 20 miles at whatever pace it is. But if he’s singing at mile 23 or 24, then he has the energy to do whatever he wants.

Where to Make a Move:

The course can’t tell you. No way. It depends who’s in the mix and what their strengths and weaknesses are. That’s where the intelligence of competition comes.

Read the Competition:

You have to test them uphill, downhill. Study their mechanics. If they’re leaning back going downhill, you know they’re fried. Uphill, if they put their head down, okay, he’s trying to do everything he can just to pump.

If they’re right behind you, they’re trying to draft off you. Somebody trying to draft will clip your feet. It happens all the time. That’s a sign of fatigue. They cannot concentrate enough to stay away.

If they are not next to you, they’re struggling. When they’re struggling, take advantage of it—whether it’s 10 miles to go, five miles to go, or three miles to go. You just have to make a calculated decision.

Once you get to those Newton hills or Heartbreak Hill, take advantage of your strength. If they let you go, you gain confidence, spread the gap, and you’re going to be home free.

In a marathon, if you have [created] 20 feet or 20 meters [of space]—it’s hard to make up with two miles to go. In a 5K or 10K, you can probably pick it up, but in a marathon, your mind says Go, your body says No, thank you.

The Gap:

If I’m in the lead and people cross the road right behind me, I know I have a good gap—because otherwise they would be courteous to let the runner go first. If you hear less people cheering after you went by, you know you have a gap. If you hear someone saying their name and ‘Come on!’ it’s very close.

I’d rather do anything and everything to get away from everyone with a mile to go versus making it down to the last 400 to 500 meters.

Nobody likes to lose, nobody likes to get passed. In 2010, I spent every ounce of energy I had with a ruptured quad and I finished, but Ryan [Hall] passed me. He played it smart. But misfortunes do happen. Unless it threatens my life—if I fall and I’m bleeding, then I have to think twice. But if I can manage to go at a decent pace, I’m gonna go. Even if you’re hurting, it’s hard to stop in Boston.

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America’s Top Contender at the 2013 New York Marathon

sperkins-pom — Sat, 02 Nov 2013 00:00:00 +0000

Popular veteran Meb Keflezighi will be America’s best hope to do something special in the 2013 New York City Marathon on Sunday. The race will be his 18th marathon, and his first since he placed fourth at the London Olympics. But a partially torn soleus muscle in his right calf this September left the 2004 Olympic silver medalist doing much of his recent training in a pool, on a bike, and—like the star of a late-night informercial—conspicuously rolling around his San Diego home town on an . The 5′-5″, 125-lb. American star spoke to ��ϳԹ�� on Friday, the anniversary of his 2009 victory in New York City.

��ϳԹ��: At 38, you’re Mr. Longevity in this sport. How do you endure?
Keflezighi: Do the small things that make a big difference. Stretch, eat right, sleep, and have a very, very supportive wife.

Keflezighi: You left the finish of the 2013 Boston Marathon minutes before the bombing. Does it impact the way you think about an open-road race?
You have to have it in the back of your head. It’s so fresh. If you ask me in two years, three years, maybe less.

How did you tear your calf muscle?
Running tempo intervals, maybe landing on an uneven spot. It wasn’t like: Ooh, what happened? It wasn’t that drastic.�� The first time it happened was probably September 9.

At least it wasn’t another dog incident like those that kept you out of the 2013 Boston Marathon, 2005 London Marathon, nearly derailed your Olympic performance in Athens, and killed your chances at the 2011 New York City Half. Are you more conscious of dogs or potential terrorism on the course?
I’ll be honest. More dogs than danger on the course.

You’ve only DNF’d once, in London in 2007. Given your recent injury, any chance that could happen on Sunday?
My intention is to finish the race as strong as I can. The body’s ready to go, it’s just: can I last 26.2 at that pace? I don’t know. The foundation is there, it’s just: Can I retrieve it?�� That’s the mystery. I still got it in me, I think. My goal is to run to win.

In 2002, you made your marathon debut in New York. Have you decided where your last hurrah will be?
Honestly, we thought New York 2013 would be my last one. I think I’ve got a couple more years. But most likely, in New York.

Do you see any young Americans coming up who might be able to match your accomplishments?
I definitely see people at the collegiate level running faster than I ever did, but are they willing to commit? Many people could take my place, but are they willing to sacrifice? It’s not easy.

Are your three young daughters running yet?
No, but they like to race each other. And they like to hula dance.

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Marathoner Shalane Flanagan

sperkins-pom — Wed, 18 Jul 2012 00:00:00 +0000

She didn't need to push it.��

London 2012

��ϳԹ��'s guide to the heroes, hype, and gear at this summer’s Games

Flanagan

Flanagan (middle) in Oregon, 2010

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It was a brisk January morning in downtown Houston at the 2012 U.S. Olympic marathon trials, and with four miles to go, 31-year-old had a lock on her third Olympic appearance. She and fellow American distance stars Desiree Davila and Kara Goucher had gapped the field. But around mile 22, Flanagan overheard Davila’s coaches plotting a late surge. So Flanagan planned to keep pace until, as she says, “I knew I could put the knife in and bring it home.” Then, with two miles to go, the rail-thin, five-foot-six blonde heard her own coach, Jerry Schumacher, say the magic words: “Track race!” Flanagan took off, leaving Davila in the dust. “I could feel her crumble,” says Flanagan. The resulting time, 2 hours, 25 minutes, and 38 seconds, was a personal best and a trials record. And it was just the second marathon she’d ever run.

This month, the U.S. will send three legitimate medal contenders to London to compete in the women’s marathon, an event traditionally dominated by East African and Russian runners. And while Davila and Goucher have faster personal records and are more experienced at the 26.2-mile grind, it’s Flanagan who represents America’s best chance at a gold—precisely because of the competitive overdrive that led her to take down her teammates back in Houston. Davila and Goucher are elite runners, sure. But Flanagan is a competitive assassin who will redline it when stakes are highest.

“She will sacrifice her body for as long as she possibly can,” says Goucher, who has been training with Flanagan in Oregon since October. “I’ve never seen anyone push themselves to the limit that Shalane’s been able to.”

Flanagan doesn’t see anything extraordinary about that; it’s just how she’s wired. As she says, “I will go through a lot of pain to beat someone. If there’s pride and ego on the line, if I’m desperate, then I’m willing to go to a place where it hurts a lot more.”

Flanagan was born to run. Her mother, Cheryl Treworgy, was a marathon world-record holder in the 1970s. Her father, Steve Flanagan, had a 2:18 personal record. When she was five, her parents divorced and she moved with her dad and younger sister to Marblehead, Massachusetts, where she picked up her parents’ sport. “I thought Patriots’ Day was a national holiday and that everything revolved around the Boston Marathon,” she says. Flanagan developed her crash-and-burn style in high school, where, as a junior and senior, she pushed herself to the point of exhaustion at a qualifier for the 5K cross-country national championships. The first year, she ran while sick, collapsed, and crawled to the finish. The next, she fell from exhaustion in the final yards and didn’t finish.��

In 2000, she enrolled at the University of North Carolina, where she won back-to-back NCAA cross-country titles. Shortly after turning pro, she made her Olympic debut in Athens, reaching the semifinals in the 5,000 meters. The next year, she won the national 5,000-meter title—despite the fact that an extra bone in her left foot would fray one of her tendons every time she sprinted. Following surgery in 2006, she set the American 10,000-meter record in her first try, then showed up at the 2008 Beijing Olympics with a nasty case of food poisoning that had her throwing up for two days before the 10,000-meter race. She won bronze.

“My coach at the time was dead set against me competing, because I was doubling in the 5K,” she says. “But I knew the 10K was my event. It became an emotionless race. I was depleted. I was drained. It became simple.”��

After Beijing, she started training under Shumacher and decided to try the marathon. The going was rough at first: every time Flanagan set a blazing pace, he made her start over. “I used to get so mad at him,” Flanagan says. But the patience paid off at the 2010 New York City Marathon, where Flanagan finished second and shocked the crowd by blowing past Kenya’s Mary Keitany, the favorite at the London Games, in the final mile.��

No woman has won the Olympic marathon with as few starts as Flanagan has. But no one doubts her chances when she lines up August 5 on the Mall in front of Buckingham Palace. Not even those who want the gold just as badly.

“I always thought she was not human,” says Goucher. “Maybe twice have I actually seen her look like she was hurting. She is—she’s just really good at not letting you see it.”

For his part, Schumacher just hopes he has prepared Flanagan’s body well enough so that her killer instinct can take over on the homestretch. And if that happens, Flanagan may be able to pinpoint the thing that drives her: “I just want to find out how good I can be at running.”

Women's marathon: August 5, 5 a.m. EDT

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Balancing Act

sperkins-pom — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 00:00:00 +0000

In 1974, French aerialist Philippe Petit snuck onto the roof of the World Trade Center, rigged a tightrope between the Twin Towers, and spent three-quarters of an hour dancing across the 1,350-foot-deep urban abyss. The caper was all but forgotten until last summer, when James Marsh’s documentary Man on Wire premiered in American theaters. With the DVD hitting stores in December, AIMEE BERG rang Petit, now 59, at a hotel in Australia and discovered that he, too, is a sucker for a surprising midair display.

OUTSIDE: You’ve seen Man on Wire 25 times. What’s your favorite part?
PETIT: When Marsh, the director, makes fun of me for running my mouth by slowly closing the sound down to zero while I’m talking. People who know me probably want to do that in real life . Wait, can you hold on one second, please? It’s amazing

Uh, what’s amazing?

��ϳԹ�� my hotel window, from the sky came a giant cage carrying three people washing windows. It’s an invasion of privacy, but it’s also amazing to look at them, 40 stories high. The cage is banging in the wind.

Did the window washers recognize you, now that your movie is out in Australia?

I don’t think so. [laughs]

Are you familiar with slacklining, the climbers’ sport that mimics wire walking?

It’s a great pastime for people who want to play with the idea of balance. But that’s not what I do. When I do the high wire, it’s alive. It’s a profession.

You’ve said that you consider your wire walks art, not stunts or attempts to break records.

I present a theater in the sky . What interests me is the poetry, the expression of man with soul.

What’s the latest on your idea to walk over the Grand Canyon?

That plan collapsed, after 11 years of planning. Now I desire a project on Easter Island. I could put my rope around the belly of 40 or 50 moai [stone statues] that are lined up by the sea and tie the other end to a nearby mountain. Everybody on the island is waiting for me. They have heard of my dream.

So what’s holding you back?

What I need now is an angel of the arts to sign a check. That’s how it works.

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