In the past, I watched the U.S. Olympic Track & Field Trials the way most people watch. It’s always been exciting to see young athletes at the top of their games chase their dream of representing our country and competing for a gold medal.
Now, when I see the tension of sprinters in the starting blocks moments before explosion, waiting for the ten seconds they spent months building towards, the most important seconds of their year, it’s a tension I know.
Now, when I watch a sprinter fighting over that last 50 meters to get to the finish line to win the race, reaching deep into her soul, building up their strides, and accelerating and digging for more, it’s a fight I know.
And when I witness the elation of achieving a qualifying time with tears of joy or the disappointment of missing out by fractions of a second, it’s a feeling I connect with deeply.
In two weeks, I’ll be traveling to the USATF Masters Outdoor Championships in Ames, Iowa to compete in the 100 meters in the women’s 35-39, having already achieved All-American in the 60 meters in February eight months after I started my journey on the track. It will be exactly one year after my first competitive race and my seventh race in the last 12 months.
This something I never would have imagined for my life. Sports had never been part of my identity. I didn’t see myself as an athlete.
Over the past year during the pandemic, I turned to running to help me heal after the death of my stepfather and a painful divorce. As I felt my inner spark fading away, I knew I needed something different. The weekend I started my divorce proceedings, I somehow found my way onto the UCLA track. As I ran each lap, a feeling I didn’t anticipate began welling up inside me, an absolute certainty that this was exactly what I needed. I belonged on that track. I kept going back.
That’s where I met my coach, Richard Rucker, in a chance encounter. Coach Rucker transformed my body and changed the way I see myself, at 38 years old. When I asked why he was willing to work with a novice, Coach told me I was like a brand new Mercedes that had been sitting in the garage for years. He saw a potential I didn’t see. I instantly seized the opportunity to train with someone who could teach me, push me, and hold me accountable.
As a girl, and then a teenager, I had known the importance of training as a concert pianist. I knew the daily grind of practicing for hours, I knew what it was like to compete. I decided to take that same discipline and see what could happen if I applied it to sprinting.
I started eating healthy. I’d get up when it was still dark to run five miles, a warm-up before Coach would arrive and we’d really push it. Running with a parachute, pushing a truck across a parking lot, running in the sand. I wasn’t outside my comfort zone, I was finding it. I was living it.
My life beyond running started changing, in superficial ways and deeper ways. I had to buy a whole new wardrobe, mostly athletic gear and lots of sneakers, as I dropped several sizes. I took on a new academic challenge, starting UCLA School of Law. while also pivoting careers. Decisions became easier. I only had one measuring stick: was each choice moving me closer to my goal of being a Masters All-American, or taking me away from it?
Most importantly, I’m happy again. Sprinting has shown me what I’m capable of, and how powerful the mind and body can be when they come together.
That’s what I see when I watch the Olympic trials this past weekend. Faith, discipline, and an undeniable commitment to oneself – the common thread all athletes share.
