Periodized Training Can Help You Hit Your Goals. By the time I was in high school, I had set national records and made national teams. (And, yes, I appeared on the cover of this magazine in 1995 before I was a senior in high school.) My running took some unexpected turns when I was in college, and maybe now some people consider me just another case of child burnout, but that's not how I see it at all. Now in my 30s, I love running as much as ever.
Running has never been a chore to me; it's a passion, and I've always enjoyed it. Through good times and bad times, all I wanted to do was just run.
Doug Courtemarche was my first coach in age-group track. I was only 8 years old, but very motivated. Doug helped me keep the perspective that running is a learning experience, and that when you have a bad race there will always be another opportunity. (He also taught me that if you fall at every hurdle in the 100m hurdles, you might want to try a different event.) From the ages of 8 to 13 I dragged my parents across the country to age-group meets and competed at various national championships. It was then that I noticed that I might have a knack for long distances. Doug decided to hand off the training baton to Danny Aldridge, whose experience, Doug thought, would be better for developing my talent.
Under Danny I blossomed, and had what I consider my best running years. My accomplishments included winning the Foot Locker Cross Country Championships, eight state and four national track championship titles, plus making five world teams and setting numerous state and national records. Nonetheless, despite having wonderful success, I had to overcome setbacks. During my freshman year in high school I had a ruptured appendix, and was in and out of hospitals for several months. The prognosis was not optimistic but I believe the discipline of running and the ability to look forward was a large component of my recovery. Rather than focusing on how much pain I was in, I focused on making the team for the junior world cross country championships. The doctors thought I was nuts as they would see me pacing the hospital hallway holding on to my IV doing what I thought were 200m intervals.
After eight years of competitive running, I was off to Stanford University, which I chose not only for the amazing track and field department but also because I knew I would love the school socially and academically. With numerous setbacks from stress fractures and other obstacles, I noticed that my desire to hit the ground and run hard was slowly unraveling. My focus had changed from a passion for competitive running to other activities such as surfing, biking, snow skiing and sky diving. I would often substitute a Santa Cruz surf trip for my morning run.
In my senior year I knew I needed to make a career choice and asked myself if I would run or try my hand at a new challenge. That decision became easy once an accident left my left leg shattered. I was told that the goal wasn't to try to run again. Instead, my new goal in life was to try to walk without a limp. It was then I realized that the ability to run was a gift, and that what mattered wasn't whether you run fast or slow; the important thing was being able to run at all. I knew that when I returned to running it wasn't going to be at the same level. I longed just to regain the ability to run.
I decided to move to New York City and try my hand at finance -- a bold move, considering I was a sociologist. After being unable to walk for a year, I eased my way back into running, starting with 5 slow minutes, then 10 slow minutes, on up to, finally, a regular run. New York's running community energized me. I was quick to join the New York Athletic Club and was excited to have a group of five to eight former college runners who would wake up at the crazy hour of 5 a. m. to head out for a run in Central Park. The run was our sanctuary before our hectic work schedules. Thanks to the camaraderie and support, I was able to regain enough fitness to qualify for the 2004 Olympic marathon trials.
Running isn't just a sport for me now. It's a community of people I love to share my time with; it's the enjoyment that my husband and I share as we now run along the beaches of South Beach, Fla., with our infant daughter; and it's our way of living and expressing ourselves.
Running may not have turned out as I expected when I was in high school. I didn't make the Olympic team or compete professionally at a world level, yet running has paved and directed my life in so many positive ways. My love for running is stronger than it has ever been, and I look forward to continuing to compete at any level, fast or slow.
