We Didn't Actually Disappear

One of my biggest regrets in life, aside from taking a very short trip to the West Coast not long after recovering from viral meningitis for an awkward and anticlimactic encounter with someone I never should have been in communication with in the first place, is leaving Utah after my first year in college. I turned down so many opportunities including full scholarships from schools all over the country, and instead, I chose to leave a good thing and attend CU Boulder on a partial scholarship. I don't regret the friendships that developed or those that deepened on the cross-country team, but I regret not staying in a place with a nurturing coach and environment. It's so strange how little decisions have the potential to dramatically change everything, good or bad, not to mention events beyond our control drastically affecting us, too. 

When I transferred, there were plenty of good runners on the team already, and CU was supposedly far superior to the school where I went, at least according to the people who worked there. Administrators made me repeat classes when there was no need, none whatsoever, and It was becoming more obvious to me that at CU, I was just not important. I thought running around fourth place on the cross country team at BYU had already taught me that I was no longer a "big fish in a little pond," especially in shorter races like the 5k, but at least in Utah, I still felt like an integral part of our team, an individual with scoring potential and the potential to go places in running. In Colorado, I was about to become as unimportant a varsity runner as could possibly be. The more I slipped into fatigue and eventually the role of generic runner, nothing special, the less I liked running and the more I struggled. My results reflected my unhappiness. 

Sometimes I look back and wonder what the hell I was thinking, but I convinced myself that I wanted to be training in my hometown. The reality was that everything in my life revolved around my sport, and I had really come back to run in the mountains. What was pulling me back was some unfinished business relating to a particular hill south of Boulder, a possible record attempt that I couldn't resist, and I had some training partners and my former high school coach willing to work with me, at least for a while. Realistically, I had a shot at taking down the women's record at the Pikes Peak Ascent by a substantial amount. My plans were to do it all: cross country, road racing, track, and mountain running, and for a little while I did. Where I was excelling in one area, running, I was failing in another, life. And then I got Giardia, and everything went to shit, literally and figuratively. 

Leading up to that crappy moment, though, I had a redshirt year and ran pretty well unattached. The following summer, I spent most of my training going up big mountains: Grays Peak, Mt Elbert, some big bald 14er with an old mining road that climbs right to the top, Longs to the boulder field, and a few others that weren't quite as tall. Oh those summer days! My goal was to run as close to or, based on my training runs, possibly under 2:30 and, instead, I struggled in one of the worst races of my life. Somehow, I managed to squeeze out a 2:53 for a very disappointing 7th place, so incredibly far off my goal. I tried to avoid getting too down on myself, but it was impossible, and then my high school coach pulled away, leaving me even more depressed. 

Before that ill-fated race day, I won a bunch of races, set a course record or two, and was competing with the elite crowd. My confidence took a beating after missing the record at Pikes, but, in no time, I had to put my attention on cross country and track, which wasn't easy. Who knows how things would have played out had I not gotten sick and possibly won the race. 

Despite initially running well outside of school events my first two years at CU, I didn't run to my potential on the team and was growing very tired. I never felt fully recovered and was entering a phase of catching every illness around me. How I wish to whatever deity could change the past that I had stayed with a coach who was sensible, kind, and who could coax me into doing the right thing. Coach Shane at BYU was the equivalent of a horse whisper for overzealous runners, and I thrived under his guidance my first year in college. 

Coach Quiller at CU, on the other hand, was an exceptionally nice person, someone who was always kind, but a good coach only for those who could handle generic workouts, a lot of volume and speed work, and not a lot of feedback. In the end, I was on the team and friends with some of the women there but not part of the team. It's true that I carried excess baggage wherever I went and wasn't ready for that kind of environment. Coach Shane could always relieve some of the burdens I carried. Coach Quiller ignored them. That said, he was not a bad guy, just not the right coach for me. I imagine things would have been even more disastrous had I attended a school with a coach who was both unsympathetic and not a right fit, and there were plenty of those out there. Still, I was struggling. 

The typical narrative of standout high school athletes who don't go on to the Olympics or to win a bunch of national titles, according to those watching from afar, is that we disappear, but this isn't really true. This mentality stems from a very unhealthy "winner take all" perspective or possibly from the equally unhealthy situation in which those who want to feel superior put others down or erase them entirely. In fact, most former high school standout athletes go on to fill other roles, and some even find success in their sport out of the spotlight. It's such a destructive take, this idea that if you don't go on to constantly win more big races and achieve tremendous success, you fade away into nothingness. 

How realistic is it, percentage-wise, to find ongoing success in a demanding sport? How many great high school soccer players, football players, swimmers, or baseball players go on to find excellence in college and beyond? Are they supposed to? Do those who don't also disappear? Define success. Also, think about how long an average career of any top athlete really is. It's rare to see someone like Lorraine Moller who competed in multiple Olympic marathons throughout her time running. That doesn't mean those with a shorter period in the spotlight aren't notable. Look at Daniel Komen, for example.    

Years ago, an Olympic coach told me that distance runners can generally expect to compete at a high level for about eight years if they're lucky. With sneaky ways of doping, improved gear technology, and new methods of training and recovery, it's possible to stretch that, but, in addition to needing a working and mostly injury-free body, athletes must find ways to keep the fire and the desire to compete, a mental edge. People often look at the Olympics as what should be the pinnacle of every athlete's career when very few athletes make it that far. In fact, more college football players are drafted into the NFL than athletes who qualify for an Olympic team in a specific sport or event like swimming or running. For many, other races or an event such as the Olympic trials is the final goal. The point being, going to the Olympics is unlikely, even for some of the absolute best athletes. 

Like many other good athletes, I was probably never going to make it to the Olympics, even if I had chosen a different path and my career had gone better than it did. Also like so many other good runners, going to compete on a world stage was a dream, but a far-fetched one. Mountain running wasn't an Olympic sport, and I never had much leg speed. It's possible that under the right conditions, I could have developed into some kind of professional athlete if we were eventually allowed to accept payment or become an Olympic hopeful, and, had I stayed at BYU, my chances would have been much better. My body probably wasn't cut out for a flat marathon, and my 10K time would have had to drop from 35.04 to something much faster. Qualifying for anything shorter was a near impossibility. I just wasn't that fast in shorter distances. 

But when I think about the people who say I was washed up and disappeared, I can't say I fully agree. Despite all the injuries and terrible illnesses, and there were plenty, I still had some stand-out moments. And considering the severity of the illnesses I faced, I'm surprised I was able to run at all, let alone race. 

In my first year in college, I was 2nd at TAC junior nationals. In 1986, I was 3rd at the Vail Hill Climb and may have won it at some point after that, but for the life of me, I can't remember. I have a blue ribbon, but it doesn't specify what it's for. Not being someone who kept track of times and places combined with not having race results on the Internet back then is a problem when it comes to accuracy. 

The following results I found in an old scrapbook my dad had. I placed in the top 10 in the Diet Pepsi 10K. In 1988, I ran the Pikes Peak Marathon. Throughout college, I consistently ran 36-38 minutes for 10K road races at altitude. When I was invited to run in the elite field of the Bolder Boulder, I managed to run under 37 minutes on a scorching hot day after developing severe blisters on my feet about halfway through the race. I must have looked funny taking the turns extra wide, but I had to find a way to prevent pressure on my feet and possibly popping the blisters. When I was almost through with school, I ran a 36:36 10K in California knowing I didn't feel well but not knowing I was dealing with walking pneumonia. Against all odds, I ran a 36:31 at the Bolder Boulder in 1993. That part of my life was such a haze of illness and struggling that I don't even remember the details around that and many other races. 

At some point, I ran or really jogged a marathon in 3:49 or so. In my 30s, I ran under 21 minutes for a 5K. I also ran a 6:14 mile in 2003 and a 6:32 in 2004. Before that in 2001, I was 13th at the Mt. Evans Ascent. I won the Aspen Mountain Challenge hill climb in 2003 and came in 2nd a year later. This was during a period after almost dying due to complications related to anorexia but before getting sick with viral meningitis. Then there were all the foot surgeries. 

These aren't great achievements. I know that. Despite some wins in very small races and age group showings, my running resume looks even worse after 2005. But I'm grateful that I was able to run at all, all things considered. I write of these races and times not to brag -- I'm actually embarrassed about most of them -- but to point out that I didn't disappear, not entirely. I didn't even really disappear from my sport. I'm still here, even if I'm invisible to most. And despite all the troubles I faced, I never really blamed my coaches. Some environments are not good for some people. That's not to say that there are no bad coaches; it's more to point out that not every instance of an athlete struggling is due to an abusive coach. Then again, some coaches really do encourage unhealthy behaviors in their athletes. 

In a recent Outside Magazine article, the author profiled a young athlete who experienced hardships at the University of Arizona. I'm not here to deny or discount her experience. It was somewhat similar to mine and many other athletes, but, her story aside, the article itself fails in a few areas. As a result, it does a disservice to the athletes who were brave enough to share what happened to them in less than ideal athletic programs. For instance, to say, "Cain’s story was pivotal. It helped reframe what many young female athletes feel is a personal shortcoming—that they aren’t cut out to run competitively—as a systemic and cultural problem instead." is misleading. 

The issue was never athletes feeling like they weren't cut out to run competitively, at least that's not the message I got from reading what the athletes featured in the article said. The bigger issue is athletes knowing they are cut out to race or at least wanting to but facing outside and internal conflict. Additionally, alleged abuse by college and high school coaches is not a new story and wasn't back in 2019 when Mary Cain's story was brought to light. In 2018, for example, an article came out that addressed allegations of years of abuse by the track and cross country coach at the University of Washington. It wasn't just women who came forward in that case. Anytime there is a power imbalance, there is the potential for abuse, but not everyone defines abuse in the same way and misconduct can be perpetrated by both males and females. The article made none of this clear.   

Instead of addressing realistic solutions to toxic running environments that harm both men and women, the Outside article, like that in the New York Times regarding Cain, is framed in a way that's set up to blame men, specifically male coaches. I've addressed this issue before. What I find strange is the omission that in 2018, the Arizona team was guided by a male head coach and a female assistant coach, which suggests that merely having a woman present isn't going to solve every problem. 

At CU, we also had a female assistant coach, and yet the environment at BYU was far, far healthier despite the lack of ovaries guiding us. The article is one of many that suggests men are to blame for any athlete who overtrains or has an eating disorder, but in the case of the main athlete profiled, she came into a program already suffering from an eating disorder that developed in high school. Absolutely, the environment can contribute to individuals thriving or suffering, as I pointed out above, but it's not about male versus female coaching; it's about individuals, their makeup, and the overall environment. In a perfect world, every track and cross country program would have qualified male and female coaches, therapists for emotional support, registered dietitians, and physical therapists. 

It's unfortunate that Cain's voice is almost completely drown out by others who push the false idea that hiring women will solve any problem. She has a better suggestion that change begins with education. I've already rambled more than I intended here, but it's hard for me to understand the tremendous approval of a pro athlete previously saying we should look at numbers on a scale objectively followed by this article with the message that weighing an athlete is ineffective and harmful to athletes. People blindly support both takes without acknowledging the contradiction. It's hard to imagine productive progress considering these kinds of inconsistencies. Regarding numbers and certain comments, people will respond differently, and if you have an eating disorder, it's almost impossible to look at either with objectivity. That doesn't mean everyone should change for you or that numbers can't provide useful information. 

These days, you can't even call an athlete fit, which is such a bizarre take. Asking others to stop giving out compliments or offering neutral comments because these statements are taken in a negative way by the receiver doesn't actually help heal whatever causes a person to mistranslate what others say. "Fit" can be applied to anyone, really, from a bodybuilder to a person walking down the street. It doesn't secretly mean "thin" unless you apply that incorrect meaning to the word, and if you do, it's up to you to figure out why. On the rare occasion when someone might associate thin with fit, maybe show some compassion by realizing we are all products of our society. Perhaps when the pendulum has been held tight, it swings too far in the opposite direction before settling on some kind of more reasonable norm, but right now, it's a little concerning to see the kinds of unrealistic demands people are making while possibly thinking it's real activism. It's not. In some cases, it perpetuates an unhealthy way of viewing the world, that enemies are all around you, that men are bad, and that anything they say is a negative. 

Below is one of my favorite excerpts from "Out and Back" by Hillary Allen. I wish more people had this kind of drive for integrity. These days, it just seems lost in a world of journalistic lies, bias, and condemnation: 

Women's Day

With podcasts being so popular these days, it's not surprising that my conversations often start out with, "I was listening to a podcast the other day," but good podcasts make great conversation starters. The usual suspects in my list of favorites include Crime in Sports, Small Town Murder, Sword and Scale, Crime Junkie, and The Last Podcast on the Left. I occasionally listen to Sam Harris or spend time getting lost in one of those deep-dive podcasts that covers a single true-crime or newsworthy incident.

This past Monday, March 8th was International Women's Day, and I listened to the Crime Junkie podcast with Britt Prawat and Ashley Flowers. The episode was about Elizabeth Smart's kidnapping. Hearing her story made me think about her willingness to be vulnerable and her commitment to being honest. It also made me think about the contrast between someone like Elizabeth and those who stretch the truth in order to make a story more compelling or relevant. I've seen journalists pull this stunt, lying to support a viewpoint, appear more relatable, or to sound more interesting. 

A woman did this last week, in fact. After posting on Twitter about running throughout the pandemic, she wrote an article suggesting she hadn't run at all. What's strange about this is that it wouldn't have taken much effort to put together similar content without even stretching the truth a little. I guess she thought otherwise. I've also seen people alter their telling of past events in an effort to come across as approachable or more experienced. It's all lying in one form or another. I'm not talking about little white lies here; I'm talking about obvious deceit by many people from influencers, journalists, and social media personalities to athletes, politicians, and tv personalities. So many quotes by Tolstoy come to mind as I write this. He really did not like liars, but a more appropriate quote here is by Twain: "A little lie can travel halfway 'round the world while Truth is still lacing up her boots." This is even more accurate with the Internet.  

When the truth is presented from the heart and with good intentions, there's no need to add excess fluff, and it's not necessary to pull a complete storyline out of the blue. If making shit up is your thing, go into fiction writing, not journalism. In order to be relevant or interesting, you don't necessarily have to have a history as tragic but ultimately inspiring as that of Elizabeth Smart. Even minor anecdotes told in the right way can touch another human being. Most of the best running bloggers and influencers aren't loud and obnoxious fibbers; they're everyday honest people who just happen to have a way with words or have something important to share. 

One thing that stood out to me in Elizabeth's story was her admission that, in order to stay alive, she had to become someone she knew she wasn't. She was forced to engage in acts that went against who she is as a person, and she was forced to go against her core beliefs and her religion. If she hadn't, she wouldn't have lived to see her family again or eventually have a family of her own. There's a difference between not being true to yourself in order to survive and lying to get attention or because your ego needs some stroking. Elizabeth wouldn't have survived to tell her story had she gone against what her captors demanded, and ultimately, she wouldn't have been able to tell other victims of abuse, rape, kidnapping, and emotional torture her very, very important message: It is not your fault. 

In my book, I share some traumatic encounters I experienced with men. Already, in my head, I'm thinking I should clarify that what I went through wasn't anything like what Elizabeth and others went through, that I should minimize my experience. It wasn't a real rape; it was merely coercion. It still makes me uncomfortable when I think or talk about it. I have to tell myself to stop when I try to diminish my experience because it wasn't as bad or as violent as what others have gone through. It could have been worse. The incidents that happened when I was 13 years old I remember clearly. I don't remember what happened to me at the hands of some older kids in the neighborhood when I was a child, but to this day, I still carry tremendous guilt for what occurred, all of it. 

No matter how many times I tell myself it wasn't my fault, I was a child, part of my brain kicks in and insists that "I could have" or "I should have," or worse "I deserved it," so it was good for me to hear from someone who has been on a healing path since her rescue that victims need not go there. Elizabeth said that she was often questioned about why she didn't try to run or escape, and her response was not what I expected. She didn't have to explain herself. Instead, she began going back to all the things that could have been different, this incredibly long list that included everything from her parents locking the window that night and the construction company building the house differently so that it would have been more secure to her screaming or trying to run. After all, these little changes all throughout the years could have eventually prevented her kidnapping, right? But, she went on, none of that happened. Her stance is that it's not helpful to think about the many, many steps that could have possibly been taken differently. That will not help heal the trauma, and getting caught up in "if only" thoughts doesn't allow forward movement. It's done. It's over. 

In 2006, the #MeToo movement started online, but in 2017, after allegations against Harvey Weinstein went public, a new wave of awareness around sexual abuse flooded social media websites like Twitter and Facebook. Media coverage was widespread, and, before long, some critics of the movement claimed it had gone too far. Actors like Matt Damon and Bill Mahar insisted that different degrees of sexual misconduct should be identified, some kind of rating for other people's trauma. Not all abuse is the same, right? While I know this to be true on an intellectual level -- a violent attack at knifepoint is not the same as an inappropriate touch or suggestive comment said by a boss at work -- the concept of any kind of ranking at a time when women were simply trying to be more comfortable coming forward didn't sit well. It became all too easy for people like me, somewhere in the middle of violent rape by a stranger and uncomfortable comments by an acquaintance, to slip back into that negative thinking that what we went through wasn't bad enough to warrant compassion or even acknowledgment. 

The truth is, any kind of unwanted sexual attention is bad. I think most healthy people agree. #MeToo was supposed to be a chance for everyone, especially women, to be heard, no matter how big or small the grievance. Sure, there are different degrees of harassment, but that shouldn't prevent a victim from speaking out. It most definitely shouldn't cause those coming forward to be harassed and teased. I'm leaving alone the second part of this topic regarding appropriate action taken against abusers. In that case, yes, it's important to recognize the difference between a bad joke or a date gone wrong and more damaging abuse, but I believe this can be done without discounting the victims. 

Before I get too far off on this tangent, I want to go back to the start and explore the idea of a core identity because after trauma, however an individual defines that for herself, it's essential to rediscover and possibly even redefine it. When Elizabeth was being held captive, despite being forced to act in ways that were contrary to who she is, she never lost sight of her true identity. It's hard to say whether her kidnappers were driven to commit terrible acts because that's who they are deep down, monsters, or if it was due to other circumstances, upbringing, drugs, alcohol, religion interpreted in a harmful way, or some combination of some or all of the above. Fortunately, that's not for me to decide. Monster or not, the court deemed Brian David Mitchell competent to stand trial, meaning, from a legal standpoint, the guy chose to do this and wasn't driven by any kind of delusion, mental illness, or outside influence at the time. Who he seems to be, as Elizabeth herself stated, is an evil person.

When the topic of identity is brought up, people often think of self-identity. This is how an individual perceives him or herself, a perspective of the personal identity. Personal identity is broader and includes an individual's personality, beliefs, physical characteristics, gender, talents, aspirations, values, and other traits that make each of us different. What's interesting is how this can change in various settings. In other words, self-identity is fluid and can be affected by our surroundings. Who a person is as a youngster need not be who she is as an adult. I've mentioned before that clinging to part of an identity that's no longer useful can be a detriment to one's health. But there is a core identity, our true being that's separate from all of that. We can't help but be shaped by our experiences, yet there is something in all of us that is unchanging, unique, the foundation of who we are. 

More individuals are bringing up the difficulties that athletes face as they approach retirement or as their bodies change. It's not surprising that elite athletes who have faced severe injury struggle with their identity as well. This is why it is so important to be able to separate who you are from what you do. A new category of therapists has emerged to help athletes transition into retirement because this issue can be so problematic. In fact, I know of at least two runners who struggled badly as they aged and eventually killed themselves. While suicide isn't usually the result of one event, the depression that can occur when an individual is no longer able to perform combined with a loss of self can contribute to feeling worthless and suicidal ideation. 

I'm glad to see that both coaches and therapists are becoming more aware of the difficulties athletes face when they can no longer participate at a high level in their sport of choice. I think when athletes are injured and when they begin to contemplate retirement is the time when they need the most care and guidance. Anyone with talent can run and even run well, sometimes even under coaching that's not optimal, but it takes tremendous strength, courage, and patience to adapt and get through injury and major transitions in life. The more we can find coping strategies and keep track of some kind of core identity within each of us, the easier these major transitions could be. 

The Art of Being Unproductive

In these times of surreality, I'm trying to remember how I somehow muscled my way through my generally unbalanced life. With plenty of naps and no structure, it seems like my productivity should have skyrocketed during the quarantine. Instead, I've barely dribbled out a few thousand words on various writing projects and have yet to reach any goals related to reading, running, or studying, not that I'm in school or anything, just glancing over some textbooks for the hell of it or "should" be.

*****

I wrote that first paragraph during the shutdown and wasn't sure where I was going with it. Now I'm back at work with different hours but the same amount of time away from home. I'm pretty sure I started the post with the intent of reminding people that it's OK to lower expectations and not be exceptionally productive, especially under stress, but since I lost my way with the original post, I decided to go ahead and completely switch paths. The title no longer fits, but I'll leave it.

Over the years, I haven't been as involved with the eating disorder recovery community as I once was. It feels saturated with a few loud voices at the top and many deserving but mostly unheard voices everywhere else. Despite the increase in available information about recovery and an increase in the number of people attempting to grab a platform, I still see a lot of bad advice presented. I've stopped looking at "health" and diet culture on Instagram altogether. I will never care about the macros someone else eats, and seeing images of high-protein or vegan glop served on a plate or in a bowl or blended with other ingredients and served in a glass will never inspire me. It's probably because there's little to no joy in that kind of food. I don't need to see your every unimpressive breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Great if that shit brings you and other people pleasure. It's just not for me. If I'm looking for some food inspiration, I'd much rather watch a video put out by Sarah Kosca and her daughter because why not bring some elegance, creativity, humor, and fun into food preparation?

Blatant unhealthy or triggering social media accounts aside, I have seen some of the worst content coming from people who probably think what they're doing is inspiring or helpful. Some missteps I have encountered recently are listed below:


1. Pinching your thigh or other body part and showing that even athletes or thin people have cellulite doesn't help anyone.

What the hell? I mean, why do this? If you're doing this publicly, either you have no clue how absolutely unhelpful this is, how potentially triggering it could be to someone struggling, or you yourself have body issues. I never, ever need to see anyone grab her thigh to point out cellulite. The only action this will inspire in me is repeatedly banging my head against a hard object.

Maybe instead of grabbing body parts to expose "flaws" as one person put it, you could try focusing on, oh, I don't know, a fucking book you read, the weather, the places your legs can take you, performance, health, or anything else, really. If you have a problem with your cellulite or want to show it off to everyone, that's your business, but don't think that doing so is going to be helpful to anyone. It's not. At best people don't give a shit. At worst, you're causing stress in someone's life who will compare her legs to yours and may start to assume the worst about her own body.

2. Stop calling yourself a "big" runner when you're not.

I'm not sure if it's a body dysmorphic thing or what, but I see a lot of lean runners calling themselves big. I even saw one runner who has continually placed herself in the "bigger" category show off countless images of herself indicating that she is no bigger and has almost always been the same size or smaller than her competitors. Claiming you're larger than you are is unhelpful. Imagine being an actual bigger runner or larger person while watching a thin, elite runner call herself big. It's worthless to focus on size anyway when racing is about performance, but many athletes draw unnecessary attention to the female body by talking about size. Your size is irrelevant to how someone else will perform. The same kinds of comparisons happen as with the situation above. It's just not helpful, at all. People have eyes and don't need to be told stories about what they're supposed to be seeing over what they actually see. Focus on you, and if you have a distorted view of yourself, ask for some guidance from a professional.

3. Don't offer advice when you're not qualified and know nothing about a person's history and health background.

I see this way too often. I'm not talking big generalizations like most bloggers tend to do; I'm talking direct answers to specific questions posed by a specific individual. If you don't know about a person's health and background, there is absolutely no way to know if that person is healthy, and, unless you have a medical degree, you are not qualified to answer questions pertaining to his or her health.

Years ago, a runner posted a Q & A on a blog that was rather horrifying. A fan asked about losing weight before a big competition. There was no mention of his or her current weight or if anyone suggested the weight-loss, only that there was this desire to lose weight. The one posing the question admitted being prone to stress fractures, too. Without knowing jack shit about this individual, the blogger started off sensibly and then quickly veered into what-the-fuck territory by musing that maybe this individual only needed to lose a few pounds... or maybe more than 10 in order to run well. Here's a thought, what if weight-loss wasn't the answer at all? I admit that the overall sentiment was probably not harmful or at least not meant to be, but it only takes a few lines of triggering content to possibly lead someone who's reading the exchange, including the one posing the question, in the wrong direction.

This is a great example of someone meaning well but being completely unqualified to answer this type of question. Are you a doctor? Do you have a degree in nutrition science? No? Then shut the fuck up. There is zero need to go into how much better you might run if you lose weight, especially when you don't know what the person weighs or anything about this individual. The focus should have been entirely on running and performance goals, strength, and balance. It's uncomfortable for me to see anyone in the running community go into fantasy success stories about weight-loss and running better knowing that there may be young athletes reading the content. Weight-loss alone never leads to running success. You still have to do the training, and you can't do that if you're not fueling your body, period. That's all that needed to be said. Jesus Christ, so many people have a God complex, thinking they can play online doctor, coach, therapist, and general know-it-all in every situation.

4. Male coaches aren't the sole problem when it comes to the abuse of young athletes.

I know I'm not alone in thinking this. Other runners and athletes have already pointed out that female coaches can be just as much of a threat to the well-being of an athlete as their male counterparts. Additionally, there are deeper issues at play when it comes to the broken systems in the athletic community. Replacing male coaches or adding more female coaches won't solve issues of abuse if deeper issues and false narratives are ignored. I and others have already gone over some ideas around potential ways to address abuse, educate athletes about what abuse looks like, and provide a safe space for athletes to open up and share concerns, so I won't repeat myself here. I just see too many people trying to solve problems that have been going on for decades by focusing on a single issue, not the big picture. Doing this isn't likely to fix what's broken.

5. Girls are not women and visa versa.

It's not so much that I or most people get upset if someone slips and calls women girls. It's generally not a huge deal as long as calling a woman a girl isn't meant to be insulting or belittling, as in she, an adult, is immature or not as competent as a man, but if it's simply describing gender and the person speaking uses boys and girls as descriptors, one can hopefully see it's not meant to be offensive.

The bigger issue is when coaches or other adults treat young girls as if they are women who can handle more emotional and physical stress than youngsters may be ready for. This may be obvious when it comes to actual children, but athletes who are teens are also not mature adults.

Too often, people apply adult thinking to situations involving teens and children. If you're an adult addressing a situation that involves a child and start out by saying, "I would just..." stop yourself. Just don't go there. Consider the different types of stressors children face. When it comes to abuse, it's even more unbelievable that people on the outside expect a child to speak up or face her abuser in the moment. That's why it's important to provide outside checks for young athletes, a way for them to feel safe about opening up about general concerns and abuses.

Some helpful resources:
Safe Sport: https://safesport.org/
Rachael Steil: https://runninginsilence.org/resources/
Child Help: https://www.childhelp.org/subs/speak-safe-athletes/

A lot of this is nothing new. I and others have expressed similar sentiments before, but I keep coming back to the fact that too many individuals are throwing themselves in positions of authority without having the much-needed qualifications and could potentially end up directly or indirectly harming someone.

A Very Old Problem Rears Its Ugly Head

There has been a lot of talk on social media about Mary Cain recently since she courageously opened up about her experiences as an athlete with Salazar and NOP. Cain joined Salazar's program in 2013 when she was just a teenager. Though she's more of a standout in terms of her performance and will always be remembered as one of the best young female track athletes ever, her backstory is like many others.

The unrelenting attention on her weight and the excessive pressure that Mary experienced is nothing new. Unfortunately, we live in a society with a mad focus on body, especially women's bodies. In the sports world, it's even more extreme, though men are not immune to negative comments by coaches and peers. In Mary's case, though, she, a young girl, was surrounded by older men associated with the program and a coach who was, according to her and several members of her team, overly critical and overly focused on her weight at the expense of her performance, her health, and her overall well-being. 

What's upsetting to see in the aftermath of all of this is that some people on social media have turned the conversation into a debate about what a healthy racing weight is for her. Guess what? It's none of your fucking business. This is one problem of many and reinforces warped ideas around the female athlete's body. It's not up to anyone else to decide what's healthy, and comparing her or any young athlete to other adult runners who are leaner or heavier serves zero purpose, none. Who knows what methods people use to stay lean and fit, and with all the doping allegations being dropped, I'm sure a lot of "healthy" lean examples aren't quite. What one person weighs has no relevance to what's healthy for someone else.

This is her life, her health, and her body. Her rules now. Nobody else's. If a runner goes from running well and feeling good to a cycle of missed periods, broken bones, and poor health, there's clearly something wrong, and weight loss isn't the answer to an improvement in performance at that point.

Another upsetting result of Mary coming forward are the people who feel it necessary to shift the focus to another cause. This is selfish and also doesn't solve this particular issue. There are plenty of topics that deserve their time in the spotlight, but don't kick Mary to the side in order to step in her place. Take your turn at the appropriate time.

Since Mary spoke out, Salazar and Nike have both made statements that basically get into victim blaming territory, but even if you look at one of Salazar's more recent comments, he outs himself as a coach who absolutely failed his athlete. He responded to her allegations by stating,  “Mary at times struggled to find and maintain her ideal performance and training weight." As her coach, if that was the case, it was his responsibility to make sure his athlete wasn't struggling in any area. An athlete's weight shouldn't be a constant struggle to maintain if she's healthy and supported in the right ways.  

More importantly, though, his focus should have been on her overall heath, her longevity in the sport, and her training, not an arbitrary number on the scale that reflects nothing about her strength and wellness. She was a teenager. He was supposed to protect her, not burden her and then break her.  

I know people mean well, but the focus on Mary right now shouldn't be on a comeback or even running, really. She already established herself as one of the greatest on the track. Why do people insist she do more? If she wants it, the opportunity is there, but her message is about SO much more. This is about the abuse of power and the enormous pressures heaped on very young athletes. This is about a broken system that has been a mess for many, many years. 

What I hope people realize with this door opening is that Mary is one of many runners who had to try to survive in an unhealthy environment. When I first started telling my story, I was generally supported, especially by friends and family, but still faced people, not just men, who denied the prevalence of these kinds of issues in the running world or suggested that people like me were weak or trying to cheat in some way. It's odd to see some of these same people act as advocates now. I'm sure that's a good thing, but I can honestly say it's strange to see.

Some people insist that if it didn't happen to them, it must not be that big a problem. I and others have faced put downs and digs about mental health and eating disorders and a lot of speculation about our current state of health based on our pasts, which puts even more attention where it shouldn't be, on our bodies. It's equally upsetting that people who are healthy and lean are pushed into a corner of feeling like they have to defend themselves against accusations. This is all the result of attention being focused in all the wrong areas. 

But things are changing. There will always be opportunists who jump on situations like this in order to step out on center stage, and we may never reach a point where women will have the freedom to be whatever size is comfortable and healthy for them without judgment. More and more, though, I see genuine concern and care from the masses and people coming forward asking how they can help, how they can make a difference and support a change.  

In a way, this has become the runners version of a #MeToo movement, and it's heartbreaking to see so many athletes come forward with stories of their own. Think of all the high school, college, and club programs that promote or promoted the same kind of unhealthy environment Mary endured. Little comments coaches make can have long-lasting effects. But it's not just the running world that's flawed. Our society is deeply in need of repair when it comes to how people view women and our bodies. It's not just women, either, but there's a relentless focus on the female body that's terribly unhealthy. Salazar and the people at Nike are products of our society, but that's no excuse. What they have done to so many athletes is awful, and the way they are handling the backlash now is inexcusable. 

If the allegations are so troubling,  as Nike suggested, why not simply state that an investigation will take place? What, exactly, is Nike implying with that little jab about Mary not speaking out at the time and possibly contemplating a return to her coach this year? She already stated why she stayed silent until now, and LOTS of people go back to or feel compelled to go back to abusive situations.

This has been an emotional time for may of us who have lived with the same kinds of pressures, both internal and external. But now is the perfect time to talk about change and how to make it safer for young athletes to achieve their goals while maintaining health, both emotional and physical. 

In times of distress, they say to look to the helpers. In my own case, when I'm feeling down or disturbed about events in the running world, I look to people like Diane Israel, Bobby McGee, Rachael Steil, Melody Fairchild, Kara Goucher, the Roots Running Project, and my many mentors and friends for guidance. Speaking of looking to people for leadership, a friend and incredible inspiration to me and many others in the running community and in general, Tonia, wrote a spot-on blog post about the trouble with youth sports. Please take the time to read it. Things need to change. 


I don't know if it's the case or people were merely speculating, but I'm glad to know others agree that the sole solution to fixing this mess is not simply hiring female coaches. That might help to an extent, but female coaches can be just as abusive. This is a systemic and even a cultural issue, and it will take a lot of effort to fix it. 

What's important, in addition to providing more education around the topic, is offering every athlete access to a group of individuals not necessarily associated with their team that, in addition to the coach, would include a sports psychologist, a dietitian, some kind of advocate, and a physical therapist. This might be impossible financially for small programs, but even having someone from the outside who would be responsible for checking in on athletes periodically would be better than nothing. There just needs to be a way for young athletes to have the freedom to speak up about their experiences with their coaches in a safe environment.

As I hinted at earlier, this has stirred up a lot of emotions for me, so I'm sure I'm not addressing everything I would like and maybe addressing things in a way that's not completely coherent. Still, I felt the need to put at least some thoughts down.

Because I wish I could help more but don't exactly know how, I will just reiterate what others have been saying. I'm here if anyone needs an ear or some support. I've been through it, and I want others to know that they are not alone. 

While Mary's message is about more than eating issues, I'm still going to offer a free copy of my eating disorder recovery handbook to anyone interested through the end of January 2020. 
The coupon code is:
TQ39S
and the link is: 
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/730896