Kara Goucher's The Longest Race

I recently finished reading Kara Goucher's new book The Longest Race. Setting aside the more shocking details described in the book for a quick moment, I was touched by the story she told about her family, the unconditional love they share, and the support they continually provide for each other. 

If one thing stands out, it's that Kara is tough, not just as an athlete but as a survivor. She mentions struggling to find her voice at times, especially after her coach, Alberto Salazar, touched her inappropriately and ultimately sexually assaulted her while giving her a massage, but she eventually did find and use her voice in the best ways possible. 

Many people, especially women in situations involving older men, can relate to being confused, scared, and unsure of what to do in a moment when something doesn't feel right. During traumatic events, humans don't always know how to process what's happening and might use disassociation or even try to normalize the situation as a way to cope. We question whether or not our experience is accurate, if it happened at all, or if it happened exactly the way we remember. 

I'm reading Catch and Kill by Ronan Farrow, the story that helped uncover Harvey Weinstein’s abusive escapades in Hollywood, and the author stresses that it's not uncommon for women to be intimidated with methods of gaslighting or worse after a man in a position of power takes advantage. Sometimes it doesn't take threats, and the fear of reaching out for help or even verbalizing what happened comes from within. We are products of a society that doesn't encourage victims expressing themselves, and sometimes when those who have been abused do come forward, there can be harsh consequences. 

There's so much shame associated with sexual assault, and quite often, judgment is misplaced to the point where the victim feels guilty. In the end, Kara, despite facing various threats and lawsuits over the years, stood her ground and told her story, one that is bound to help others in similar situations find the courage to speak up. 

It's encouraging to see the support Kara is receiving after coming forward and exposing the underbelly of our corrupt sport. That underside is not pretty. Today's female athletes are a new kind of pioneer in the running community, true heroines of the sport. No longer are they trying to prove that women can run (they have already demonstrated this); they are fighting for equal or better salaries, a better environment, and a healthier future for younger girls moving up the ranks.  

In 2017, Alysia Montano brought attention to the difficulty of competing as an elite female athlete when she showed up for the 800 at the USATF Outdoor Championship and ran while she was not just pregnant but a very noticeable 34 weeks pregnant. It was a standout moment when people were slapped with the reality that something needed to change. Had she not toed the line, her Nike contract and, as a result, her income, would have been suspended. This was a turning point. Just as much of the world was beginning to accept that women shouldn't be forced to choose between their careers and becoming a mother, we learned that this applies to being a professional athlete, too. 

Kara wasn’t alone in facing similar situations when she was injured or recovering from giving birth. In her case, she was even pressured to prepare for a race shortly after her son, who was an infant at the time, had been operated on and was still in the hospital. The situation eventually pushed the new mother to leave his side in an effort to restart her salary that had been suspended because she was, in Nike terms, "absent from the competition" due to her "medical condition" i.e. being pregnant. Fortunately, her husband, Adam, was there to take care of their son, but it doesn't take away the heartbreak of a mother being forced to make such a painful choice. 

Because Kara's book describes so many obstacles she had to overcome, it's easy to forget what a decorated and outstanding athlete she truly is, and because of her many accomplishments, it's easy to forget how young she was when she was running so well. Running isn't as extreme as gymnastics when it comes to youngsters being on top, but kids just out of high school, or newly in or just out of college often compete on an international stage. 

Kara started doing well in running when she was just a child, and by the time she was in college, she was a champion several times over. Her list of personal bests and wins is impressive, jaw-dropping, even. She comes across as down-to-earth, self-reflective, compassionate, and at times a little bit insecure in her book, and she doesn't boast about the many accomplishments she achieved. Any wins that are mentioned are stated in a matter-of-fact way, but there's no doubt about how hard she worked for her goals. I've always admired Kara as both an athlete and a person, and reading her book only made that admiration stronger. 

One other issue Kara addressed but not deeply is her troubled relationship with food. She didn't go into tremendous detail, but it sounds a lot like what Lorraine Moller experienced, dancing on the edge of an eating disorder without falling completely into the abyss. Such is the case with many athletes. I was glad to see her bring it up, though, and she acknowledged that forming healthier eating habits wasn't as simple as eating a fucking Dorito. In fact, when she ate a Dorito that her husband encouraged her to consume while they were waiting to get dinner, it made her uncomfortable, even if it was the best choice for her hungry body at the time. It was good to see that she didn't discount the very real emotional aspect of these illnesses or imply that simply eating is an easy fix. 

As I moved through Kara's book, I spent a lot of time reading between the lines and speculating about drug use, not just in professional running but in the sport itself, and how many coaches and their athletes are guilty of outright doping violations or use more subtle forms of cheating, thyroid medications or asthma inhalers, for example. It would be almost impossible not to speculate given what she implied and outright stated. I have questions that went unanswered and may never be addressed. 

It's so easy to find ways to get an unfair edge these days, and so many results seem incredibly far-fetched, right down to those found at the high school level. I suspect and have said it before that I think most people at the elite level are, at minimum, using methods that aren't kosher, and I'm 100 percent sure these questionable practices ooze into the trail and ultra-running scene.  

What does it all mean now that Nike has once again been exposed as a shitty company that takes advantage of its athletes, supports dopers, and protects abusive coaches? Probably not as much as everyone had hoped in terms of overall change, but that doesn't discount Kara's efforts as well as those who really are working to try to change the running environment. People, even those who claim to support Kara, will still get excited about wearing shoes with a swoosh. On the other hand, already, thanks in large part to Kara, one less abusive coach is able to inflict harm on other athletes. 

I think chipping away at megacorporations and bringing to light their ugly, dark side (and Nike's nadir is exceptionally grotesque) can eventually generate small changes that may, in turn, lead to larger ones. 

Regarding people who are working toward the betterment of the athletic community, I don't include individuals who are simply trying to be seen and boast about being advocates; I'm talking about those who have taken actual steps, shared heartfelt personal stories (not ones that fit a narrative), and have been honest and continue to be upfront about who they are. Even those who are not at an elite level but get out there and encourage others to do the same can be incredibly inspirational and good for the sport. 

Both Kara and Lorraine Moller did a really great job of bringing their books to a nice conclusion. Each one had a way of coming full circle. Kara brings the reader back to her message of the love and support she received from friends, family, and fans alike. There are a lot of people in her corner, but a small coterie of individuals close to her really stepped up to back her through her hardest moments. 

One of the reasons I admire Kara so much is her ability to adapt and change. Both she and Lorraine have this skill in common, and I'm not sure people outside the running community can understand how difficult this can be for some of us. I'll save my more involved thoughts about identity and being a runner for a separate post. 

In conclusion, The Longest Race is an easy-to-read book that's hard to put down, especially if you happen to like and look up to the author. As much as it's Kara's story about her career as a runner, it's about addressing a deeply flawed system that allows athletes, especially women, to be abused. Thank goodness Kara came out the other side of all of this and can continue to feel the love and support she deserves. 

In other more personal news, I'm not going to say much about why I'm no longer employed where I was recently and for many, many years. My job was something I rarely discussed, and I plan to keep it that way. Unlike a lot of people, it seems, I'm not vindictive or malicious so will hold my tongue, even though I think it would do me good to write about it. Suffice to say that I finally expressed my needs and attempted to set some boundaries going into a meeting, and the response was about the biggest fuck you I have ever experienced from any employer, ever. 

What's that saying, though? When a door smacks you hard on the ass on your way out, a window opens? Something like that. I'm pretty sure everything worked out for the best. 

I don't remember where I saw the quote below, but I do like it. I'm not into wishing others any ill will, but sometimes I hope there's a little poetic justice in the world. The best revenge, though, is being able to let all the grisly shit go and move the fuck on without looking back. 

"Karma is a bitch? Oh no, honey....Karma is a classy wise elder who will calmly sit you down and serve you a tea you later realize was laced with the same poison you served others for years."

While I'm at It

As more and more women in the athletic community come forward with stories of harassment and abuse at the hands of coaches and trainers, there are some comments about weight and female runners that show not everyone understands the issues. One gentleman on Twitter suggested the East African runners must be laughing at us, but I doubt that. I had a former coach, one I admire and trust, who let me in on a little secret that eating disorders and coaching abuses are more widespread than people think. Look at the scandal that took place in Uganda when female athletes accused male coaches of sexual abuse years ago. It's ridiculous to think that women from other countries would be immune to the same pressures and negative comments, just like they're not immune to the pressures of doping, as we have seen.

In many instances, the conversation keeps turning to looks or weight, specifically the appropriate racing weight of female athletes, but this movement is about uncovering abuses of power. Besides, there are healthy ways to discuss weight that don’t include calling someone fat, obsessing about a number on the scale, or judging a body on appearance.

Seeing other people come forward and share their stories after Mary Cain opened up about her experiences running with Alberto Salazar and then leaving the program has naturally stirred up some memories of my own.

Something Mary said really resonated with me when she talked about the times she considered going back to her coach. She Tweeted, "I wanted closure, wanted an apology for never helping me when I was cutting, and in my own, sad, never-fully healed heart, wanted Alberto to still take me back. I still loved him. Because when we let people emotionally break us, we crave more than anything their very approval."

Wanting approval from those who can't or won't offer it has been a theme in my life since I can remember, but it was especially true regarding those who offered intermittent attention, including my high school coach. I know I'm not alone when I say the athlete-coach relationship is a complicated one. This applies to many areas of life. Damn, we all just want to fit in and be heard and acknowledged and feel some love now and then. Life is fucking hard. It helps to have support.

There's no doubt that I walked into adulthood loaded with baggage, damaged, broken, and emotionally scarred. This led to severe depression. It was, in addition to genetics and brain chemistry, directly related to the chaos I faced in my childhood. Regarding the abusers from my childhood, there was never any closure. I had to smile and pretend the abuse never happened. I certainly never got an apology for the actions of bullies and those who took advantage of me, and that left me vulnerable to repeating the cycle as I got older.

When I look at my high school coach, I carried around a lot of anger and resentment years after graduating and leaving his program, but I did go back for a summer of training and racing in college. And I got more hurt in the end and was called a head case. It's only more recently that I have let all of that go. In my book, I see how guarded I was writing about my experiences, taking a lot of the blame, but there were things he said that I can never forget. And yet, people are rarely all bad. In his case, he did a lot for me. In many ways, he helped me achieve some of my loftiest goals in life, but it was often at the expense of my mental and physical health. It wasn't entirely his fault, but he did a lot of damage. And I'm not alone in that, either. Several other runners on my team suffered, and it wasn't just the women who did.

I mentioned previously that some of the people who once denied the prevalence of eating disorders at the professional level are now encouraging women to come forward and tell their stories or retell them. While I see we are pretty much on the same side and basically want the same changes, I wouldn't really want to share my story again in the presence (virtual or otherwise) of someone who basically shot me down. It's not that this one person in particular was outright mean to me, more that her tone was condescending, accusatory, even. People who take a haughty stance have never impressed me, but in certain situations, they can be intimidating. Unfortunately, I didn't address it at the time. See a pattern here?

It wasn't until later that I realized how much this interaction affected me. I was caught off guard in the moment and had trouble rebounding after sharing what I went through led to an entire discussion about how those with eating disorders couldn't last at the professional level and how you just don't see it blah blah something about statistics being exaggerated, which is not true, but, again, it threw me to the point where I didn't know how to respond. This may seem trivial, but I felt very much like I was being discounted and put down in a way, like you have to be strong and above it all to compete as a pro, something I clearly failed at accomplishing, even though I was at a pro level for a while, just not able to accept money for my efforts. Anyway, because I didn't stand up and call bullshit at the time, it left me taking indirect swipes at this person years later, something I'm not real proud of. At the same time, I just don't want to engage with her, at all.

That happens a lot with individuals who have been bullied. An upsetting incident happens, and we go numb at the time, only to have a reaction later on, some kind of delayed stress response. So while I will share these kinds of thoughts here, I have no desire to confront the person who did this, privately or publicly. On social media, you're not only in a conversation with one person. Their followers are sure to jump in, and that can get ugly, at least from what I've seen. In the end, I'm glad there are people speaking out and supporting those who come forward.

My own resentment and story aside, what's unreal to me is that, despite the tremendous support those who were abused are receiving, some people are still defending a rotten coach.

A good coach doesn't fat or body shame his (or her) athletes.

A good coach finds the appropriate training program for each athlete, and that will vary based on a lot of things, including body type. The solution to an athlete's success isn't "lose more weight," it's "how can we get you to train and run optimally given where you are right now?"

A good coach creates and environment of camaraderie and support and doesn't pit one athlete against another.

A good coach trains different body types differently, in case that wasn't clear.

A good coach communicates well with his athletes and anyone involved in her (or his) training.

A good coach supports his athlete and encourages her to use outside support in the form of dietitians, therapists, strength coaches, and physical therapists.

A good coach doesn't encourage cheating.

A good coach looks at what can be changed in order to see improvements instead of placing all the blame on the athlete.

Lastly, someone pointed me to this rubbish, a calculator that, according the the RunBundle website, helps you find your ideal racing weight, but then adds: "Finally, although the majority of elite athletes we've tested do fit - or come close to fitting - the suggested weight ranges, there are anomalies. So, even if you're aiming for the podium, don't let an awkward Stillman result upset you." Too fucking late, assholes. Too fucking late. This is a dangerous and unhelpful "tool" and suggests nothing, a big fat zero about health and running capability. It doesn't take into consideration age, build, overall strength, flexibility, and, of course, mental health. It actually calculated my racing weight as a number that I was when I was anorexic, about the sickest I have been while still running. So fuck this bullshit, and fuck this company for putting out a potentially damaging gadget.