A Jumper who Sprints

For my whole track and field career, I have never done just one event. As I got older, I specialized a little…slowly fading out the triple jump once I got to college, no taking the 200 seriously once I was a pro…but I have remained both a sprinter and a jumper regardless. This is what feels right to me, and even though people have told me otherwise, I have never made the decision to fully specialize in just one event. I can’t tell you my favorite, merely that I prefer whichever event is yielding better results at the time. I’d like to be great at both, and in doing so I would appreciate the different ways of being a competitor they both offer.

But I will say this…for most of my career I would definitely describe myself as a sprinter who jumps…until now. Now, I have become a jumper who sprints. And there is a difference—most notably that it has made me into a very sub par sprinter. I made a decision early on this season to put sprinting on the backburner and focus on the long jump. That basically meant that I would prepare as best as possible for Nationals to be a Long Jumper, and my competitions would be jumping instead of sprinting or doing both. My workouts didn’t change drastically but there were subtle differences. Basically, my plan worked and I got what I wanted. And I was still fast…I’m pretty sure I am faster on the runway then I have ever been and definitely the fastest jumper in the World from the data I’ve seen.

But after my last couple attempts at actually trying to run a race this past week, I’ve realized that being solely in Long Jump mode has made me lose my ability to truly sprint. It is frustrating to say the least. I cannot come out of blocks, my turnover seems stuck on my runway pace, and a whole 100 meters seems sooooo long! I know that there must be a way to be good at both. There have been athletes who are great examples of that… most notably King Carl, but that's not to say it's easy. Perhaps the formula is different for every person but for me, it seems that being a jumper who sprints instead of a sprinter who jumps is not going to cut it.

It’s not that I’m greedy. I realize being good at one event is more than many can even hope for. I have so much room to be a better jumper that some might think it’s crazy for me not to just focus on that. But in my infinite wisdom there are a few things I’ve realized. For starters, you can make money being a sprinter that you can never make by doing the long jump. This is my job, after all. And secondly, if at all possible, you should stick as close to possible to what makes you happy and doing what you love. I happen to love both. If there is a way for me to figure out how to be successful at both simultaneously then I’m going to give it my best shot.

Laundry

It’s been two months…two whole months of living out of one suitcase. That’s hard for any normal person to work with such a limited wardrobe, but as an athlete I sweat and roll around in sand in half those clothes so the opportunity to reuse that stuff is impossible. In fact, the laundry bag I keep all those clothes in is lethal. I feel sorry for any unsuspecting airport worker who goes rifling through my bag on a random check. Needless to say I must do laundry every so often. And that’s not always so easy. Finding an actual Laundromat is a goldmine. The opportunity to wash all your clothes at the same time with real detergent seems like one of life’s major blessings. But in the short amount of time we usually stay in a city, that isn’t always an option. So far this summer, here have been some of my alternative options…

*In Germany I stayed in an apartment that had a washer/dryer but with German instructions and no interpreter. Nobody could figure out how to get the thing to work properly and once you put your clothes in the dryer it would stop every 6 minutes or so and start beeping. The smell in the basement prevented you from actually staying down there while your clothes washed, so I would go down 3 flights of stairs about 7 or 8 times during a cycle to re-start it. The day before I left, the neighbor finally told me the simple problem and how to fix it.

*In Berlin I took two trains across town to use the Laundromat but was an idiot and all my whites came out with a blue tint. So the next day I trekked back with a bottle of bleach to try and salvage them. Some are passable.

*I was getting ready for a meet a few weeks ago and realized I had no more undies. So I quickly washed a pair in the sink and dryed them with a blowdryer while I brushed my teeth and finished getting ready.

*Speaking of washing in the sink…I do that often. If you have detergent...good for you. If not, regular soap or shampoo (anything in the soap family), will do. The point here is to try and get them clean enough. It also works best if you can set the stuff outside to dry. It will be a little crispy but that’s ok. Although I have had a few items blow away, so it’s best to secure them if possible.

*My last stop in Italy I was determined to do a good washing because I was pretty much out of everything. I finally set out with sketchy directions and a map from the front desk. I walked in the blistering heat, made a few wrong turns, asked directions from a multitude of people who spoke no English, and finally found what I was looking for: the Laverderia (Italian for Laundromat). It was 2:30 in the afternoon and the place was of course closed for siesta. So I left and came back at 5. I thought I was being sent to the Laundromat but this was in fact the Drycleaner. At this point I was desperate but she would not help me. She said a lot of stuff…I understood none of it. But she wouldn’t take my clothes so it meant no. I ended up paying the hotel to wash 3 things for about 20 bucks.

Right now I can make it another 2 days before I must deal with this problem again. I’m not going to bother with Italy today because it’s Sunday, and if you aren’t aware, Italians do nothing on Sunday and everything is closed. This seems a bit excessive seeing as how they already close down 3 hours a day, but maybe that’s just me. So wish me luck in Paris. If anyone knows the French word for Laundromat please pass it

The Other Circuit

In Europe, all meets are not equal. There are the big dogs, all the way down to the little Chihuahua’s. You will find most of your big meets in large cities…Brussels, Paris, Rome, London, Berlin…all those places you’ve marked on your map and hoped to visit one day. And then there are the cities you may have never heard of in your life. Lovely cities, mind you, just not the ones on everyone’s tourist radar. Usually the smaller meets are there. You fly into Venice then drive 2 ½ hours to Rovereto. Your plan lands in Berlin, but you are headed to some small town in Poland some 3 hours away. These places are what some of us athletes lovingly call the chitlin' circuit. I’m not sure where the name originated, but it seems to fit. They aren't the big meets, with all the glitz and glamour and big sponsors, but oftentimes you take what you can get and you make the best out of it--sorta like chitlins. :)

Some athletes go there because that’s all they can get into. There are a lot of athletes and only 8 lanes on a track. Golden League meets and Super Grand Prix meets are tough when you aren’t top in the world. Some athletes go in between big meets because going to a small meet is still better than housing and feeding yourself in between competitions. Other athletes have realized that it’s easier to make more money coming in first at a small meet than sixth at a Golden League meet. And still other athletes, especially field event athletes, have no choice when the meets that have their events are few and far between. One of the above reasons, or some combination, brings most athletes to a meet in a place that they can’t find on a map at least a few times a season. I’m at that time in my season now.

There are probably not many meets on the European circuit I haven’t been to. Thanks to my age and my rollercoaster of a career, I have pretty much seen and been to them all. Being here now is much more enjoyable because I understand their purpose and I can reap the benefits. Sure, my friends and colleagues might be on Eurosport this weekend, but I had no desire to test out how fast I was at this point of the season in front of millions of people. (and THANK GOD I didn’t.) I’ll trade the 4 star hotel for the ability to plop myself down in a quaint café and drink a cappuccino for 1 euro. Like I said, there are no tourists in these places! And most of all, I can relax because the stress level just isn’t the same. I’m still trying to figure out how to recharge my battery and unfortunately the body is taking its sweet time with that one.

I’ll be back for the grand finale in a couple weeks and there will be no hiding at that meet. Until then, cut me some slack if you happen to uncover any meet results during this time. The internet does a good job finding out stuff even when a GPS can’t locate you.

P.S. I've never had chitlins in my life...but I wonder if they taste better than horse. Anybody know???

Unknowingly

I am a proud carnivore. I prefer to eat meat at every single meal if possible because the meal just doesn’t seem complete without it. Traveling through Europe can pose some difficult problems at times in regards to eating the way you are used to because people always have a different take on what normal is. I don’t like baked beans for breakfast, I prefer my fish without the eye looking up at me, and I believe there are just some animals that should be for pet and recreational use only.

Coming to Italy is usually a safe bet for good meals that will be enjoyable. You will always get your choice of pasta followed by your choice of meat and you will end up satisfied because if they do one thing well in Italy, it’s eat. These people know what’s important in life and they indulge to the fullest.

Which is why I felt no trepidation when, after finishing off my plate of tortellini, I was brought a piece of meat with some veggies on the side. I had asked for the pork option (as they offered me that or fish), and while I knew the meat sitting in front of me didn’t look like the other white meat, I felt no reason to worry. It looked like beef. They probably just ran out of the pork. So I took a bite. “Funny tasting beef,” I thought. And the aftertaste stuck with you. It definitely tasted different than beef. I never have worked as a food critic so I feel unable to describe it properly, but there was some sort of natural spice that lingered in you mouth...a muskiness almost. It most certainly DID NOT taste like chicken. After a few more bites my friend sitting across from me mentioned the same thing. It was obvious that we hadn’t gotten pork, but we voiced aloud whether this was beef. Perhaps it was veal, we concluded. I don’t ever really order veal but I know it’s in the same family and all so maybe the difference of not being a fully-grown cow is what I was tasting. I then tried to remember what I had seen when I glanced over the regular menu to see if it could possibly anything else. I remembered seeing deer, so I threw that out as an option. I wasn’t too keen on eating Bambi, but I felt like it wouldn’t be the end of the world. People do eat deer in America, though it’s a more obscure choice of protein. We all agreed that eating deer wouldn’t be so bad.

I finished my plate, as did the two friends that were with me. In other countries you don’t send dishes back like we do so freely in the U.S. and if they end up sending out the wrong dish it’s more of a hassle to try and explain that to the waiter who barely speaks English as it is, then to just eat whatever they bring you, and besides, they don’t really check back to ask how your meal is anyway. On the way out though, I stopped our waitress and did my best charades impression to try and ask what our meat was. After a moment of not understanding she finally gets what I’m asking her. Ahhh… it is horse. I just smiled politely and walked away.

A break

I’ve been on a break. I just kind of checked out from reality and let myself disappear for a few days. No email responses, no daily facebook checks, no blogging…none of my normal routine. I need to get around to reading and responding to all the messages and kind inspirational words that I know are there, but I wanted to make sure I could really absorb them, not just fleetingly glance at them while I was still licking my wounds. I still have a bit of a season left, but I found it difficult to motivate myself to continue on in regular fashion right away. You work so hard to reach this peak, and then all of the sudden you find yourself on the other side of it, and my body and mind are just a bit lethargic.

But nobody is paying me to sit on the beach in Nice or walk around the streets of Paris as a full blown tourist, so I’m back on the grind with a few low key meets in Italy that I hope will get the juices flowing again and put me back on track to finish the season strong. My diet of cappuccinos and croissants may have set me back a bit, but it was good for the soul and hopefully my civilian lifestyle didn’t take too much of a toll on my system.

Here are a few pictures from my mini break. I hung out with my friend Debbie, who had came to Berlin to see me compete and then was spending a little time seeing more of Europe. She let me tag along until I had somewhere else to be.

-Me on the streets of Nice. Cities in Europe are just so much cooler than our cities in the States.



-Me and the Debster at the beach.


-My favorite pastime. Reading a book…on the beach…under an umbrella. Life doesn’t get sweeter.


-View of the City


-Looking out over Monaco…contemplating how I can get enough money to live there!



-In Paris…being tourists.


-After all the normal shots of the Eiffel tower, we started getting silly with it.


-Drinking cappuccinos…another favorite pastime.


-Realizing the cappuccino is 6 euros!!




-Standing in the lobby of our hotel. You never realize when someone might be snapping a picture!

Keeping My Head Up

You know what’s hard about trying to be the best in the World at something? Trying to be ok with 9th best in the World. It’s not an easy pill to swallow. Not when you know you could do better and not when you know that you should’ve done better. I could also choose to focus on all the positive things I have accomplished this year but that’s a bit difficult for a person like myself. The best I can do is try to make room in my head for both. In my mind I’m thinking, “I’ve jumped 6.80…if I could’ve just done that today I would’ve had a bronze medal!” But that is not what I jumped today unfortunately, and I’m doing my best to keep my head up.

That’s what everyone keeps telling me… “Keep your head up, Bri”…followed by some positive statement that I know in my heart is true. For starters, I’m here. I made the final. I did all this after a year when I said I didn’t want to even jump anymore. So I have every reason to hold my head high. But when I do my eyes are still glistening with tears because I know I could’ve done more and I wanted to so badly. But that’s life, and that’s sport, and in both there are lessons to be learned each and every time. I’ll be back. And the next time I’m on the World Stage will be better than this time. There is nothing more I can do than commit to doing more the next time around. In the meantime I’ll just continue to hold my head up high and remind myself that there are a whole lot of people in this world, and out of those there are a handful who consider themselves long jumpers, so to be the 9th best out of all those people really isn’t too shabby.

Qualified!

I’m sure most of you know by now, but I have qualified for the Long Jump Final at the World Championships here in Berlin.

I am elated. Ecstatic. Overjoyed. Thrilled... I could go on and on, but I will save the rest of the adjectives for Sunday because I plan on needing them. This competition was a test of my belief. My belief in myself, the belief I have in my abilities, the belief that I am truly one of the best Long Jumper’s in the World, and most of all, the belief that I have faith in a God who can do all things. Because when I stood on the back of that runway for my third and final jump, with two fouls on my card and wind and rain blowing in my face, I knew that the only way to make it happen was to truly believe. Hope was not enough. Wishing for the best would not make it happen. Desiring for it to go my way would probably leave me a little bit short. So I took a deep breath and simply believed that I would jump a fair jump and it would be the very best I could do at that moment in time.

I don’t want to make the moment seem so fairytale like that it seems as if I’m putting extras on it. If I’d have had it my way, I would have jumped the automatic distance on the first jump and got out of there before the rain even started pouring. But I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again…rarely is our plan, His plan. It doesn’t matter how I got to the final as long as I’m there. I feel like the hardest part of the competition is behind me and now comes the fun part where all I ask of myself is to have fun and give my very best. I believe that the best I give will be something special. I truly believe that.

-My first jump. (Notice how dry I am)




-The weather by the end of our competition. (They suspended all other events until it cleared but I sure did jump in it!)