chasingGLORY
Week Two
Monday June 2
The Paradoxical Mess
You know how, after you have a great race, you don’t want to reset
your watch when you start your next workout? You scroll to the
stopwatch, and there it is: the time it took you to win your first race or
to qualify for the Olympic Trials. I can’t make myself reset my watch
for my next walk, or the whole next week, because I think I have the
greatest laps I may ever have on my watch. The subtle conflict inside
begins, the desire to stay at this place it took so long to get to, but
knowing there are still other higher places to reach.
I’ve heard at track meets people refer to the tightly knit group of
walkers as a "race walking cult." They have it all wrong; we embrace
the opposite of contrived ceremonies. Race walking is childhood and
adulthood, play and purpose all at the same time. We do this because
fast walking is our Tao, dude.
At times it can be one of the most powerful, emotionally-charged
experiences I've had in my adult life. The veterans talk about the sport
as more than a sport. Many of them cry at finish lines out of sheer joy,
as Nathan Deakes did upon winning the gold medal in Osaka. They
know the power of what they've experienced, of the transcendent
clarity of pushing one’s self to the edge.
One day I race walked 8 miles in a driving rain, and as I approached the
end, the sun broke, the rain stopped, and I had a sense of something
greater than myself. Race walking, for me, is about knowing, for the
rest of my life, that every day I spent in athletic pursuit as an athlete
was spent exactly the way I wanted.
Everyone, fast walkers included, wants to hang out, drink soda, play
games. Race walkers derive a sense of meaning from this absurd
sport for which champions weep. Training, when all goes well, strikes
the elusive ideal balance between childhood and adulthood, pleasure
and responsibility.
But because this balancing act is abstract, race walking must also
provide some vague, intangible satisfaction. I believe this comes from
a sense of purpose provided by choice. I race walk of my own free will.
Race walking is an irrationally brutal choice. With each workout, I re-
commit. Each day pulls me closer. One t-shirt reads, "It's a mental
sport, and we're all insane." We are aware of, and somehow in love
with, the irrationality of walking fast. We do it because it is what we do.
We take the road less traveled.
I am often questioned "Hey, why are you still doin' race walking? I
mean, you're not even, like, in the top ten."
"I'm not sure," I answer. "I just do."
We are not putting in hundreds of miles day after week after month
after year for accolades. What accolades? We do not enjoy being
exhausted all the time. We are not concerned with fitness benefits. We
are not masochists.
We are a pretty superstitious bunch though. Over the years, I have met
people who eat a Snickers bar 15 minutes before every race, write
goal times on their racing flats, or use the same pins on bib numbers
at every race. I haven’t done any of those things, but I have done plenty
of things that non-athletes must find absurd, like paying for massages
that actually leave bruises on my legs; drinking liquid iron (it has to be
the foulest tasting substance on the planet); napping during the day
and sleeping at night for a total of up to 12 hours; and obsessively
looking at pace charts.
This behavior is all pretty weird.
But we race walkers do enjoy these rituals. Our traditions are
pleasurable while a 10-mile hard workout is not. I have always known,
however, that I could not separate the two. The things I like would not
be the same without the parts I dislike. Why? Life is a dynamic,
paradoxical mess. We want to have fun while doing as little work as
possible. But we also desire to be respected, to show the world "I can
achieve something extraordinary."
These apparent conflicts can confound those on the outside, but deep
down inside we who gladly give ourselves to the absurdity know what
is going on. We know.
You know how, after you have a great race, you don’t want to reset
your watch when you start your next workout? You scroll to the
stopwatch, and there it is: the time it took you to win your first race or
to qualify for the Olympic Trials. I can’t make myself reset my watch
for my next walk, or the whole next week, because I think I have the
greatest laps I may ever have on my watch. The subtle conflict inside
begins, the desire to stay at this place it took so long to get to, but
knowing there are still other higher places to reach.
I’ve heard at track meets people refer to the tightly knit group of
walkers as a "race walking cult." They have it all wrong; we embrace
the opposite of contrived ceremonies. Race walking is childhood and
adulthood, play and purpose all at the same time. We do this because
fast walking is our Tao, dude.
At times it can be one of the most powerful, emotionally-charged
experiences I've had in my adult life. The veterans talk about the sport
as more than a sport. Many of them cry at finish lines out of sheer joy,
as Nathan Deakes did upon winning the gold medal in Osaka. They
know the power of what they've experienced, of the transcendent
clarity of pushing one’s self to the edge.
One day I race walked 8 miles in a driving rain, and as I approached the
end, the sun broke, the rain stopped, and I had a sense of something
greater than myself. Race walking, for me, is about knowing, for the
rest of my life, that every day I spent in athletic pursuit as an athlete
was spent exactly the way I wanted.
Everyone, fast walkers included, wants to hang out, drink soda, play
games. Race walkers derive a sense of meaning from this absurd
sport for which champions weep. Training, when all goes well, strikes
the elusive ideal balance between childhood and adulthood, pleasure
and responsibility.
But because this balancing act is abstract, race walking must also
provide some vague, intangible satisfaction. I believe this comes from
a sense of purpose provided by choice. I race walk of my own free will.
Race walking is an irrationally brutal choice. With each workout, I re-
commit. Each day pulls me closer. One t-shirt reads, "It's a mental
sport, and we're all insane." We are aware of, and somehow in love
with, the irrationality of walking fast. We do it because it is what we do.
We take the road less traveled.
I am often questioned "Hey, why are you still doin' race walking? I
mean, you're not even, like, in the top ten."
"I'm not sure," I answer. "I just do."
We are not putting in hundreds of miles day after week after month
after year for accolades. What accolades? We do not enjoy being
exhausted all the time. We are not concerned with fitness benefits. We
are not masochists.
We are a pretty superstitious bunch though. Over the years, I have met
people who eat a Snickers bar 15 minutes before every race, write
goal times on their racing flats, or use the same pins on bib numbers
at every race. I haven’t done any of those things, but I have done plenty
of things that non-athletes must find absurd, like paying for massages
that actually leave bruises on my legs; drinking liquid iron (it has to be
the foulest tasting substance on the planet); napping during the day
and sleeping at night for a total of up to 12 hours; and obsessively
looking at pace charts.
This behavior is all pretty weird.
But we race walkers do enjoy these rituals. Our traditions are
pleasurable while a 10-mile hard workout is not. I have always known,
however, that I could not separate the two. The things I like would not
be the same without the parts I dislike. Why? Life is a dynamic,
paradoxical mess. We want to have fun while doing as little work as
possible. But we also desire to be respected, to show the world "I can
achieve something extraordinary."
These apparent conflicts can confound those on the outside, but deep
down inside we who gladly give ourselves to the absurdity know what
is going on. We know.
FEATURED ATHLETES
FEATURED ATHLETES
2008 U.S. Olympic Trials-Women's 20km Race Walk
About
On July 6, 2008, America’s
fastest women race walkers
will compete in the 2008
United States Olympic Team
Trials in Eugene, Oregon, to
select the U.S. women’s team
for the Beijing Olympic
Games. As part of an
unprecedented promotional
buildup to the race, Race
Walk Planet is proud to
present “chasingGlory,” a
seven-week series of web
videos and text-based
commentary offering
exclusive athlete/coach
interviews and insight.
"chasingGlory" is a
production of Race Walk
Planet Television. Videos
produced by Chris Rael. Text
by Shirley Reynolds and
Dana Lee. New material will
be posted weekly, from May
19 through July 6, 2008.
fastest women race walkers
will compete in the 2008
United States Olympic Team
Trials in Eugene, Oregon, to
select the U.S. women’s team
for the Beijing Olympic
Games. As part of an
unprecedented promotional
buildup to the race, Race
Walk Planet is proud to
present “chasingGlory,” a
seven-week series of web
videos and text-based
commentary offering
exclusive athlete/coach
interviews and insight.
"chasingGlory" is a
production of Race Walk
Planet Television. Videos
produced by Chris Rael. Text
by Shirley Reynolds and
Dana Lee. New material will
be posted weekly, from May
19 through July 6, 2008.
| Stephanie Casey |
| Sara Standley-Gonzalez |
| Joanne Dow |
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