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."

Allegations of Misconduct at CU

If you've read "Running With The Buffaloes," you probably won't be surprised at the allegations of misconduct related to CU Boulder's cross-country program. I've never written much about the team because I was part of the organization well before the "legendary" coach Wetmore took the reins. It was also a dark time for me back then. Though the environment wasn't healthy for me and several other women on the varsity team, coach Quiller was a nice guy and never pestered me about my weight or body composition. He seemed to be aware of the dangers of being too thin. Several transfers were coming from programs that were downright abusive, so in comparison, things were pretty nice at CU. 

Aside from an assistant coach who ran the 800 and who was very clearly on some kind of performance enhancer, there was nothing out of the ordinary going on that I was aware of, just too many miles prescribed and too much speedwork for my body. I wasn't alone there. 

Coming from an extremely safe, clean, honest, and healthy BUY setting and working with one of the most sensible coaches on the planet, CU's methods at the time struck me as far from perfect but not terribly damaging. Nothing in the article about the ongoing investigation points to anything outright evil either. Still, I have my reasons to suspect there's more to the story than a former athlete upset about having her body composition tested, and, as one individual pointed out on Twitter, perhaps the reason why more people didn't balk at the methods described in "Running With The Buffaloes" is because it's a story about men and that kind of severe training was more accepted and not seen as anything all that unusual at the time. Maybe it should have been a red flag for more people, and it was for at least some of us. But things are very different now. We recognize and can define wrongdoing more quickly and accurately.

Training or overtraining aside, weight and body composition can provide a coach with valuable information. When I was at BYU, our coach weighed us, but the team setting was probably one of the healthiest running environments I had ever experienced. It's not so much that anyone in a position of authority gathers this kind of information; it's more how he or she goes about it and also what he or she does with that information.

Part of the reason why I have avoided sharing my suspicions about the darker side of the CU cross-country program that consistently produces successful runners is because all that I know about Wetmore and his training methods is hearsay. I know at least one person who was coached by him before he was the head coach at CU, and I know a few people who filled the role of assistant or volunteer coach while he was there. One of these ladies told me that Wetmore had all of his female athletes go on the pill. I thought it was weird, but she insisted it was to help prevent bone loss in runners who were "naturally" thin. But shouldn't going on birth control be a decision between a woman and her gynecologist, not a running coach? And all of them? Really? Again, it all seemed strange to me.

I also know other coaches who trained former CU athletes who ran under Wetmore's guidance. In fact, when I was writing my memoir, I interviewed a coach who was working with two CU alums who were too afraid to talk to me about their experiences there, even though I assured them that I would protect their anonymity. No go. Whatever trauma they experienced and privately confessed to their new coach would stay hidden from the rest of the world, but it was enough for me to wonder about his coaching style. And knowing some of the unsavory comments he said to at least one of his former athletes is enough for me to know that whatever facade he presents to the world probably isn't the full picture. Most likely, he's private and avoids interviews and the spotlight for a reason, and it's not because he's shy. 

Shortly after the article about the investigation was published, I noticed that Joe Klecker posted on Twitter about his experience at CU under Wetmore. He suggested it was fine, nothing to see here, folks! Because he didn't experience anything that upset him and he was referred to a dietitian and other professionals rather than discuss weight or mental health with his coach, which is how it should be, he seems to imply that his experience can serve as a standard for everyone else. People respond differently to different types of stress, and what's not upsetting for one person might be unbearable for another. That's why a good coach takes into consideration individualistic experience and aims to provide a safe environment for everyone. 

Another person on Twitter suggested that coaches should be able to tell who has an eating disorder, which is absolutely ridiculous. More often than not, you can't tell who has an eating disorder or who might develop one. Don't play guessing games when it comes the mental health of individuals. 

What both posters are missing is that anyone at any given time can be susceptible to developing an eating disorder or can be dealing with a mental health issue. Just because one person's experience seems OK, it doesn't mean that the program overall isn't toxic, and just because one person found the environment unhealthy, it doesn't mean it's a bad program overall. That's why it's important to conduct an investigation and uncover patterns that can help determine what, if anything, needs to be addressed.

Regarding mental health in the running community, things have definitely changed over the years, and, fortunately, those in positions of authority are starting to become more aware of the issues that plague so many runners, especially when it comes to eating disorders. 

In the 80s, there were plenty of unhealthy college running programs, probably more unhealthy ones than not, and it was mostly accepted that people, primarily coaches, would talk about weight and the importance of maintaining a certain physique in order to perform well. Over time, though, it became apparent that thin doesn't always mean faster and most definitely does not mean healthier. In other words, the more disaster struck young athletes, the more coaches learned that those who are too thin or end up engaging in other unhealthy behaviors in an attempt to control weight often end up experiencing more injuries and can't maintain health. It's better to have a little extra muscle mass or even fat than risk dieting to the point of not being able to run well or at all. 

Of course, there are other ways for athletes to remain extremely thin while engaging in demanding, consistent training, but I'll stick to the topic at hand here and save additional speculation for another time. 

Despite some programs softening their "don't get fat" stance, plenty of coaches still foster unhealthy athletic habits and contribute to an atmosphere that encourages eating disorders. Because the investigation is ongoing, we don't know the details of what the athletes at CU believe to be toxic conditions, but one of the more important messages in the Runner's World article states:

But body composition testing can have harmful effects on collegiate athletes when not conducted responsibly. Testing frequently, conveying results without appropriate sensitivity, or aiming to manipulate these numbers can trigger disordered eating and eating disorders, and contribute to a condition called relative energy deficiency in sport (RED-S), a mismatch between energy intake and expenditure that can lead to menstrual irregularities, weak bones, and other injuries and long-term health problems.

What's concerning is that there are others calling the investigation a witch hunt. It's hard to imagine that when at least five individuals find certain methods toxic there isn't something controversial going on behind the scenes. The idea that there were comparisons of body composition between current and former teams suggests that methods were questionable at minimum. Because of my history of eating disorders and also knowing some of the snide comments Wetmore has said to one former athlete, I might be assuming the worst, but I also know that, despite improvements, there aren't enough checks on programs. There also aren't sufficient mandatory training programs or evaluations for coaches. As one local professional coach put it, "Certification for coaches is a joke. Pretty much anyone can become certified." 

With the investigation, it's important to listen to both sides and try to encourage more awareness around safer coaching methods. One of the best ideas is to have athletes work with registered dietitians and mental health professionals. It takes a village, so to speak, to raise a healthy athlete. Because eating disorders are so prevalent in runners, coaches really need to work on their approach with athletes. Even if only one person on the team is more sensitive, a coach should be cautious with how he or she addresses everyone.

This is a little bit rushed and probably contains grammatical errors, but I wanted to get my thoughts out there immediately in response to the article, something  I rarely do anymore. It will be interesting to see what comes of the investigation, and I hope some former CU athletes who have been successful offer their insights. Then again, most people already know that those who are running at the top are often treated differently than those who aren't winning races. Like it or not, coaches are human and fallible. 

When Advice Is Worse Than None At All

Boulder is a place that attracts a surprising number of fakes. The types of imposters here in Boulder are ones who cling hard to a label and boast about who they are but, in reality and probably without realizing it, show they are the opposite of whatever identity they claim to be. The yoga community is rife with people who like to look down on others, despite the philosophy of the practice in which they engage including teachings related to detachment, self-awareness, and spiritual knowledge, traits that, in theory, lead people to become better versions of themselves, not ones who prompt judgment and hubris. Here, yogis like to flaunt their fancy apparel and the fact that they attended Burning Man more than they focus on any spiritual advancements. 

People who genuinely engage in the practice of yoga, on the other hand, are the opposite. They don't have to flaunt anything or use any kind of signaling, virtue or otherwise, to be admired. Being adored is not their goal. Their activity becomes part of who they are and isn't seen as good or bad. It just is. It's the same as if they didn't engage in the practice, because who they are is more important than what they do, how they dress, or how they look. They don't have to advertise what they do to anyone in order to feel content in the world.

It's easy to forget some simple rules of life -- you don't have to put on an act in order to be appreciated, and contentment isn't found outside yourself -- with the mess that occurs on social media, everyone screaming for attention. One of the best yoga teachers I ever had was overweight according to standard American weight charts, smoked, rode a motorcycle, and played in a rock band. He never wore flashy clothes and didn't have to adhere to any American stereotypes around the discipline; he was just really good at yoga and a top-notch instructor. He's a model for what it means to be authentic.

I view the running community at large the same way I look at the yoga community here in Boulder. Within the sizeable group, there are pockets of individuals who do good, sometimes really good things. They are inspirational and out to become the best version of themselves. These are people who create inclusive communities or foundations, or are skilled at what they do, or are simply kind and thoughtful. Most of these types are athletes or coaches, or people who want to do good in the world and limit their time on social media.

When it comes to running, Addy Bracy and also the Roots Running crew set a great example. Then there are a few who can balance a hearty dose of social media with a life away from the computer. Sage Canaday comes to mind. His social media content is informative, but he has fun with it and doesn't take himself too seriously. In sharp and disappointing contrast are the many self-appointed experts who like to offer bite-sized bits of imagined wisdom without really saying much. The ones who make up this last group are primarily writers, fans of the sport, and influencers. 

Whether it's on social media or in a published article, people in this last group love to pretend the content they are sharing is fresh and new, but it's almost always information that has been presented before, usually without reference. Condensing complex ideas into pithy little sayings is rarely helpful, and using hyperbole to the point of absurdity is equally unnecessary and uninteresting. Stephen King cautions against writing past your ability, yet so few are willing to take his advice. They think using as many adjectives as possible is the way to go, even if the modifiers are used incorrectly or make readers cringe. Don't fake being a virtuoso if you can't play the scales. Instead, work on your technique and try to enjoy the process. That's what I do. 

Many errors could be easily corrected in published material if a qualified editor would step in, but running magazines seem to have a shortage of competent editors, Runner's World being the occasional exception, and anything by Alex Hutchinson being the consistent exception. Really, though, it's not fully the responsibility of the writer to offer up a perfect final piece. It’s unfortunate that anything goes these days. 

Some of the more bizarre life and training takes I have seen online and in publications recently include the following:

1) A coach claimed that rest is different for everyone. He suggested that for some it’s a day off, but for others it’s a 15-mile run. A few of us corrected him on Twitter, saying that 15 miles, even at the most leisurely pace, isn’t even a recovery day since anything that long is going to take a toll on your body. It can be an “easy” day for some but definitely not a rest or recovery day, even if it might seem like a piece of cake to very fit individuals. Rest is rest and means just that. “Active rest” means engaging in low-intensity activity for a limited duration and allowing your body to recover, not breaking it down further. 

2) On Twitter, a well-known athlete announced that there’s no such thing as overtraining, only under-fueling or not getting enough rest. My response to that is: bullshit. Overtraining is doing more than your body can safely manage at any given point. You can eat and sleep well and still do more than you are physically or emotionally able to handle and land in doing too much territory. Sure, in the big picture, most training issues can be resolved by getting adequate nutrition and rest, but we are complex beings. Any kind of maladaptation to stressors can lead to overtraining syndrome, so it's more complicated than a hasty one-liner designed to generate lots of likes on social media can convey.  

3) One of the more shocking declarations I saw was from an account called Anorexia Myths on Twitter, in which the poster suggested that all anorexic thoughts center around food and implied that eating food will fix the problem, which couldn't be further from the truth. This mother of two anorexic children is taking a symptom of the illness and calling it the cause. Eating disorders are complex, and recovery doesn't come down to "eat a sandwich!" This kind of take diminishes individuals who struggle and suggests that eating disorders are a choice when, in fact, they are not. In her attempt to debunk myths around the illness, she's actually perpetuating them. 

4) It's hard to imagine that there were two articles, one in Women's Running and the other in Trail Runner, that focused on strength training by suggesting individuals simply lift heavy shit or do some body-weight exercises now and then. This bright idea was promoted by a coach and writer on Twitter as well. A more interesting and realistic approach would be to discuss muscle activation, strength specificity, and structural strengthening, but that's not as appealing to writers who want to attract the attention of the general masses on social media. It takes too much thought and is too narrowly focused on runners to get into why and how athletes might benefit from an actual lifting or strength program. Just lift shit is easier to convey, isn't it? 

Instead of bad advice in running magazines, here's a link to someone who knows how to assist athletes with individualized strength programs: KPPerformance

5) In the same vein as "just lift shit" is a recent article in Women's Running with the groundbreaking message: Just move a little. Women's Running and other running publications are now in the habit of publishing what looks more and more like blog content than actual articles, which could be interesting if the authors thought a little bit about their target audience and didn't present everything as if either the world is ending or everything is idyllic. Seriously, writers go from You can be all you want to be! to You'll get slow and need to avoid snacks, and that will be dark as hell when you... go through puberty or go through menopause or go through a pandemic or get old, or get injured, etc.

If you're writing for a running as opposed to a fitness magazine, the "Here are a bunch of exercises anyone can do. Fuckit if they relate to running or not" approach isn't best. If a reader searches hard enough, she might find a helpful concept -- that people should exercise for their health, even if they're not going to race -- in these types of overly general articles, but most are lacking so much in depth that the sentiment is nearly lost. People benefit from information that's to the point, not from overly vague concepts. 

If the topic is transitioning from being a competitive runner to being a jogger, discuss the psychological aspects as well as the reasons why some might need or simply choose to make the switch and how the change can affect a runner. Claiming something is depressing without explaining why or getting into how to address it isn't helpful. 

Those of us who have raced, even if it's not at an elite level, are likely to have difficulty with identity as shifts in training volume and intensity occur, forced or not. Imagine how I have felt the last year or so not being able to walk at times, but even I have adapted. Kara Goucher, in a brief update in February this year, brought up the difficulty of being faced with a life-altering condition as a runner who identifies as such. Her short post resonates with more readers than many so-called articles because she allows herself to be vulnerable and lets people know that she's embracing the unknown in her situation. She takes each day as it comes, acknowledges her fears, and does what her body and mind will allow. 

Even though we are creatures that no longer hunt and, as adults, rarely play, our bodies and souls still crave movement and a challenge. As a species, we do better if we are active, but when we can no longer hit high mileage or intensity goals, there are ways to satisfy the inner longing to engage in exercise, even if it's no longer all that vigorous. 

There is a way to transition to cross training or jogging or walking, whatever activity your body can manage, and create beneficial physical and psychological challenges while still being gentle with ourselves in order to reduce the risk of injury. If life pulls you in a different direction, it doesn't mean you have to say, "fuck it!" and let go completely. And if you do, there's nothing really wrong with that, either, as long as you're making some effort to maintain health, however you and your doctor define that. Sometimes a complete break is not just fine but necessary. Exercise is something you can always return to.

A terrible message and one that's likely to scare individuals into not trying at all is that starting an exercise program is difficult and unpleasant. I see this over and over again. On some level, this may be true that starting or starting over may be difficult. Any change can be hard, but a new beginning is also exciting and rewarding, especially after a forced break. Yes, fatigue might hit you hard initially, but you can measure progress fairly quickly. 

Besides, training doesn't have to be done in extremes. Life doesn't come down to either working toward race goals or sitting on the couch. There are plenty of options between the two. 

Even without structured training, you can still run or bike time trials, jump in fun runs, race for charity, do relay-type races with teammates, race for the sheer pleasure of it, or map out an adventure run for the heck of it. There's no rule that says you can't hire a coach, either. It's fine to receive guidance even if you have no racing goals. 

What's very much lacking in the articles I see in most running magazines around change and reduced activity, especially in older athletes, is the mental and emotional aspect of running and how deeply former athletes are affected by not being able to engage in the sport they love. 

In an interview I did with Suzy Favor, we discussed depression and how not running at a high level after spending years training hard can affect a runner's mental health. Simply saying "my identity was once a runner and now I jog" doesn't go into how to most effectively manage any upheaval that can occur when transitioning or being forced into a less athletic role. 

Not one running-related article of this type mentioned processing strong emotions that might come up and even grieving the loss of your former self. For some of us, losing the ability to race or train hard is like losing a best friend, and every time we go out and can't reach our potential, the sadness is there, lingering in the background. It's not easy and can take a long time and a lot of work to accept where you are and stop looking back. I still struggle with it. For Suzy, therapy was helpful. 

6) The last topic I'll cover is that of a coach and writer who basically suggested to his audience that a good approach to training is to do what a great athlete (who's probably doping and has a team working with him) does. If he doesn't lift weights, drop the barbell! This is some of the worst advice anyone can give. 

Copying a professional athlete is an approach that's not individualized, and how someone else achieves success might not work for you. For example, if you're an athlete with some muscle imbalances, lifting might help prevent injury while avoiding strength work because someone said a certain pro skips it could increase the chances of getting hurt. Lifting can help increase overall strength including supporting muscles, which also helps prevent injury. "You do you," not "You do someone else" (you know what I mean) is the best advice here. 

I'm really glad to see that Sage Canaday started a coaching program. I think he will offer athletes some great advice based on his experience, knowledge, and his ability to have fun. Also, he seems to have assembled a great team to assist him. 

I don't have an editor, so I'm sure this doesn't read as a brilliant article. Still, I hope it inspires some thought or offers some guidance to readers. 

Body Talk

With the article by Ken Goe that recently came out about the alleged (I'm assuming it actually happened) body-shaming that took place within the University of Oregon track and field program, many individuals want to share their own experiences or comment on the matter, even if it means potentially triggering others.  

I can't wrap my head around the fact that some of the same individuals who are adamant that nobody should ever talk about a woman's body are careless when it comes to posting images of themselves with captions that describe their perceived flaws. I know Kara Goucher means well and I generally like and respect her, but, regarding a recent post, she's ignoring concerns about sending the wrong message. The bigger message, that looking a certain way doesn't have to dictate what a person can achieve, is important, but that's not what she initially said. And if you're at all sensitive to potential stressors on social media, this is exactly the kind of content that can be problematic. But fuck anyone who's too sensitive, right?

What Kara said was, "If you look closely, you will see I have skin hanging over the side of my shorts, there is cellulite on my butt and there are no rock hard abs on my stomach." She goes on to say how fast she ran despite all this and also complains about how focused everyone is on looks, after suggesting everyone look closely at her body. A good point coupled with potentially triggering content will never sit well with me or probably anyone else who has or has had an eating disorder. As one commenter suggested, how do you think seeing an image of a very fit and lean runner with a caption about skin hanging over her shorts and cellulite, real or imagined, makes normal observers feel? This did not sit well with me, either, and I should trust that my initial reaction of shock is shared with at least a few others. 

There was a way to word the caption and avoid upsetting anyone. Kara could have mentioned that she's a product of our society or struggled with her body image or that her body was so scrutinized by coaches and fans of the sport that she began to have self-doubt if she didn't look a certain way. Instead, she made a statement about cellulite and skin rolls when she appears visibly lean and extremely fit to anyone on the outside, and it comes off as not well thought out, though the majority of individuals seem to have gotten the point or cheered her on anyway. 

In a world of black and white thinking, one in which everyone claims to be right, we have lost all nuance and, therefore, the ability to have meaningful dialogue. This is thanks, in big part, to social media. The way people react to anyone even hinting at expressing a different opinion is extreme. Remembering how people associated with Oiselle treated anyone who expressed a different view years ago, I hesitated to reply to Kara's post but did anyway, saying that I appreciated the comment of someone who pointed out that the post could be triggering. I then tried to clarify what I assume is the deeper meaning.

Rare is the individual who can sit back and say, "I see your point." Instead, defensive responses -- I'm right. You're wrong! -- are encouraged and celebrated, and that almost always leads to a pile on. It's no longer about trying to find answers, it's about proving you're on the right team, even if it means lying or triggering or offending others. If you express an opinion that's contrary to the majority, be ready for some blowback. In this case, it turns out there was no need for me to worry, as my comment was quickly buried by the thousands of heart emoticons others posted in response to the original post.  

Regarding the article, some are so determined to show that they condemn coaches who are body-shaming athletes, they're denying science in the process, just flat out making up shit or ignoring facts. Even though I agree with those who claim that the system in place by coach Robert Johnson is flawed, I don't agree that you have to avoid reality in order to prove it. For example, it's true that a lower BMI can aid runners if you just look at physiology and nothing else. There's no reason to say otherwise. It just is, and it's not a judgment about anyone.  

A lower BMI generally leads to an increased VO2 Max. Some people refuse to acknowledge this, even though a greater VO2 Max usually contributes to better performance in athletics. An argument against bullying athletes to lose weight can be made, though, when you simply accept that damaging athletes emotionally is bad, period, and it shouldn't be done. Really, fuck that coach. But there's no need to pretend that anyone at any size at all can run competitive elite times or that the studies showing a correlation between VO2 Max and BMI are wrong. You can accept the results of these studies while pointing out that there's more to performance than BMI and VO2 Max levels and how the body is able to use and transport oxygen. Performance really doesn't come down to physiology alone, especially regarding weight and BMI. That's only one aspect of competition, but it is something to consider. The question that needs to be addressed is how to build programs that foster healthy athletes while still allowing them to be successful in sport. That kind of program should never include body-shaming but doesn’t have to ignore numbers completely. 

The DEXA scans use at the University of Oregon measure more than body fat. It's unfortunate that a coach would focus more on BMI and end up mistreating athletes while letting important feedback like bone density, which is also measured by the same scans, take the back seat. 

The article states:

Johnson contends his scientific approach largely removes human bias from judgments about athletes and allows the UO coaching staff to design workouts precisely tailored to each athlete’s needs.

“Track is nothing but numbers,” he says. “A good mathematician probably could be a good track coach.”

But in this statement, he removes important variables. Humans are complex, emotional beings, not computers or machines you can simply program to run a certain way, well, most of them anyway. The point is that if the mental stress of maintaining a certain BMI or a certain weight is extreme, it won't help an athlete run faster, nor will the physical stress of potentially not getting the right nutrients during formative years. Proper nutrition is especially important for young women who are menstruating, going through puberty, or experiencing growth changes that often require an increase in caloric intake in order for the one going through these experiences to remain healthy. 

I think most rational individuals will agree that a healthy approach to training younger athletes is to allow individuals some leeway. Numbers can be used as an effective tool for feedback, but who's to say what BMI is optimal for each individual? Two women who are the same height might run faster and be healthier overall at different weights and at different body fat percentages. Though personal observation is never the same as an actual study, I can't help but think about my time at BYU. Our cross country team had four runners near the top, all of whom could run close to the same time over a 5k course, but all were different body types and weights. That being said, the variations between us weren't extreme. None of us is 7-feet tall, for example. 

Coaches, both male and female, who are abusive are prevalent in the running community. It is and has been a widespread problem that's just beginning to be more formally addressed. I'm not sure how to respond to the additional information in the article, such as the bit about how OU has a "cozy relationship with Nike, which underwrites the funding for USA Track & Field and sponsors a high percentage of professional track athletes." I'm more concerned that an athlete was told by a nutritionist that she should consider lowering her body fat to about 13% from 16%. Aside from the fact that track programs need registered dietitians, not nutritionists who don't have the same qualifications, it's just absurd to think that this was a point of focus for the coaching staff instead of overall health, both physical and mental. You just can’t run as well if you're under too much additional stress. Running is hard enough as it is. 

Melody Fairchild had probably one of the most thoughtful and sensible responses I have read on the matter. She's someone who is working to make changes in the sport. Instead of complaining about it, like many of us do, she is taking active steps to improve the sport by setting an example as a coach and mentor. The world needs more Melody Fairchilds. She is such a positive light and provides hope when the world can feel so dark.   

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: 

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.

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.

Quick Clarification

Kevin Beck, Brad Hudson and I recently attended an event at the Boulder Book Store and had the opportunity to discuss our book, "Young Runners at the Top." A few questions from audience members brought up some differing opinions about training and coaching, so I wanted to address at least one of the topics here.

The concept for "Young Runners at the Top" started quite a while ago when Suzy Hamilton and I decided to write a book focusing on young athletes. We felt there were training books written for little kids and those for adults, but those addressing teens who want to compete successfully at a high level were lacking. She wasn't able to continue with the project, so I asked Melody Fairchild to get involved, which she was happy to do until a new coaching opportunity prevented her from having enough time.

In the end, this was somewhat of a community undertaking. I and my coauthors are grateful to all the people who helped create "Young Runners at the Top." The list of people involved includes but is not limited to:

Addie Bracy, Mark Plaatjes, Bobby McGee, Dr. Richard Hansen, Lucy and Nerida Alexander, Bean Wrenn, Melody Fairchild, Ruth Waller, Scott Fry, Greg Weich, Carrie Messner-Vickers, Róisín McGettigan-Dumas, Barb Higgins, Suzy Favor Hamilton, Rebecca Walker and Lorraine Moller.


During our first book signing event, Brad, Kevin and I addressed some important topics. We spent a long time talking about why so few young girls who run well during high school go on to compete at a high level in and after college. Obviously, it doesn't come down to one issue. Some contributing factors include transitioning through puberty; social, peer and self-imposed pressure that leads to increased and prolonged stress; and overtraining and burnout. Our book offers ideas on how to help young runners transition through these difficult times and continue running into adulthood.

While discussing these issues, people used many examples and comparisons, which doesn't resolve or accomplish very much. You can't use others as examples of the proper weight or take a training plan for one person and successfully apply it to someone else without knowing a whole lot about both. When using elite athletes as an example, you never know exactly what methods they use to achieve their success. They often offer a very minimal and possibly skewed glimpse into their lives, so it's easy to make assumptions about what might or might not be occurring. One thing the three of us suggested in "Young Runners at the Top," is to always individualize training programs and diets for each athlete. I'm not sure if we made that clear enough at the event, so I wanted to reiterate it here.

The other issue I wanted to address is weight. Some jokes were made about runners being thin, but ultimately you can't be a healthy runner and have a long and successful career if you are not fueling yourself properly. I have already posted about the seductive grace period and weight loss, so I won't go into it again here. Suffice to say that coaches need to be thinking about their athletes moving through different phases of training and competition in the healthiest way possible, and starving won't allow for longevity in the sport.

TOE - Interview with Kevin Hadsell

Kevin Hadsell discusses his transition from running coach to actor.

Kevin Hadsell interview by Lizefb on Mixcloud

For more information about Kevin, visit his website at the following link:  http://www.coffeetalkradio.com/

Kevin Hadsell