Uncle Jerry

One of the most interesting parts of my Olympic story is not about me, but it is about my uncle. In media interviews everywhere around the world, it is common for me to spend most or all of my time discussing our relationship. Given that my uncle’s name and image are recognizable around the world, it is not surprising that people want to know about our interactions. In reality, my uncle’s story and my Olympic pursuit have been linked for years. His work has given me a much stronger understanding of the roll the Olympics play in world affairs and in bringing pride to a nation. For those of you who don’t know, my uncle “Jerry” is known publicly as Ambassador L. Paul Bremer III, the man who oversaw reconstruction of Iraq from 2003-2004.

The first time that Jerry became involved in my athletic career was back in 1995. As a senior in high school, I had been dabbling in pentathlon for a couple years. My season had gone well, and I had achieved the qualification standard to compete in the Junior World Championships. The only problem was money. My sport federation was not supporting junior programs so I needed to raise the money myself to fly to Taiwan and compete. Jerry found out and bought my ticket and a few pieces of equipment I needed.

Five years later, I was visiting Jerry over the 4th of July. One morning at breakfast, he asked if I had any big plans for the rest of the summer. At the time I was on a break between graduating the Air Force Academy and starting my Air Force active duty job. I mentioned that I wanted to go to watch the Olympics in Sydney, but I had to see if airline ticket prices dropped to an affordable level. Three weeks later, Jerry called me up with a surprise. “Eli, my wife and I have decided that money should not be an issue and you should go watch the Olympics. Call my secretary and have her book you a flight.” Watching the Sydney Olympics was very inspirational, and I came home even more dedicated to my own Olympic pursuit.

Over the next couple years, I rose to the top of the US ranking list in pentathlon. I sent Jerry some shirts that said “Bremer, USA” on them, but I unknowingly sent him more than that. Jerry had seen me dedicate every facet of my life to qualifying for the Olympics and he saw how much impact the Olympics could have on people’s lives.

In 2003, I landed in Cairo mere hours after the US invaded Iraq. I had an opportunity to see first hand the rage in the streets, demonstrations, and massive anti-American sentiment. Interestingly enough, there was a tremendous amount of respect given to me and my teammate for daring to enter a predominantly Muslim country to peaceably represent our county in sports.

Within weeks of my return from Cairo, my dad called and told me to turn on the news. Jerry was being named to a new position. President Bush had appointed him the head of the Coalition Provisional Authority (CPA), the entity charged with civil reconstruction of Iraq. Within days, Jerry was on the ground in Iraq charged with the difficult task of undoing decades of societal decay in mere months.

During the summer of 2003, I continued my pursuit of the Olympics. I was one of only two US athletes to make the final at the 2003 World Championships in Italy. It was 115 degrees there and scorching. In Baghdad, 115 would have felt like winter in July. I was lucky enough to return home after my bout with the heat, while Jerry stayed in Iraq and wore a suit and tie every day in the sweltering heat to show an example of professionalism to the new Iraqi leaders.

Even before the air conditioning turned on (and that took a while) in the summer of 2003, Jerry took on an ambitious task. He decided the Iraqi people needed to see their team in the 2004 Olympics. Many people don’t know this, but Iraq’s Olympic Committee was decertified by the International Olympic Committee (IOC) following the US led invasion.

Prior to the invasion, Uday Hussein had run the Olympic Committee. Athletes were lavishly rewarded for good performances and tortured or executed for poor performance. The country’s Olympic infrastructure was, like the rest of the country, in shambles from years of corrupt and perverse operations.

The IOC decided that they would not allow Iraq to compete in the 2004 Olympics unless an entire new Iraqi Olympic Committee was created, starting with elections at the local level. Considering that Iraq had not held free elections of any kind in a generation, this seemed like an insurmountable task. But Jerry saw the value in giving this devastated country some much needed pride and worked to form the new Olympic Committee.

Months later, the first free elections in decades were held in Iraq, elections to create a new Iraqi Olympic Committee. After intense lobbying and work by my uncle, the IOC decided to allow Iraqi athletes to compete in the 2004 Olympics.

One day during the winter of 2003-2004, I received a call from Jerry in Baghdad. He asked if I was still doing most of my training at the Olympic Training Center (OTC) in Colorado Springs. He told me he was sending out a judo and wrestling team to train at the OTC and asked that I introduce myself and make them feel welcome. Weeks later, the small Iraqi team arrived at the OTC to prepare for the Olympics with the US Team. At the time, the US media was reporting that Iraqis were increasingly opposed to US led occupation and that anti-American sentiment was growing. I was unsure how the Iraqi team would view me, the nephew of the public face of US led occupation.

However, when the Iraqi team found out I was Jerry’s nephew, I was nearly dog-piled. I had grown men kissing me and nearly in tears. In a very emotional discourse of broken English, the Iraqis told me that Uday had tortured them and threatened them, but Jerry had given them hope and pride. During their stay, the Iraqis and I met several times. At one point, I arranged a conference call between the Iraqi team and my uncle in Baghdad. The Iraqis profusely thanked Jerry for his support and the opportunity to train in the US for the Olympics. In exchange, Jerry encouraged the Iraqis to be civil leaders when they returned home and to use their Olympic fame for the betterment of Iraqi society. Several weeks later, the Iraqi team returned home, ready to compete for pride of country rather than fear of torture and death.

When I failed to qualify for the 2004 Olympics, NBC hired me to work for them in Athens at the Olympics. At Opening Ceremonies, I was assigned to work with Andrea Joyce on the field. Andrea was going to conduct interviews with athletes after Opening Ceremonies, and my job was to find the athletes in the 10,000-strong gaggle on the field. During the Parade of Nations, we were able to sit back and watch the show. Three nations received standing ovations from the crowd in Athens: the Greeks, the US team, and the Iraqi team. I have rarely felt more pride than to see people from around the world acknowledge the significance of Iraq competing in the Olympics. An effort that my uncle had literally risked his life for was now the pride of the world.

During the Olympics, the Iraqi soccer team became one of the great stories. At a time when Iraqis factions rarely agreed with each other, the nation of Iraq could agree to support their Olympic soccer team. It was truly a unifying event for the people of Iraq and the nation.

At closing ceremonies, I encountered one of the heads of the Iraqi Olympic Committee. Not knowing how he felt about my uncle, I talked to him for several minutes before telling him who I was. When he saw my name on my credential badge, he responded like the Iraqi athletes had months earlier. He kissed me and told me that Jerry had likely saved his life and the lives of many other sportsmen.

Four years have passed since the 2004 Olympics. Today, Jerry has attempted to quietly step out of the spotlight and I have qualified for the Olympics. I recently had the chance to spend a day with Jerry in Washington DC, and we were able to talk about the Olympics, world affairs, and the normal family stuff. Jerry has always been an Olympic fan, but this year he has a much more personal reason to get involved and watch the Olympics.

I am extremely excited that Jerry, along with all the other friends and family who have helped me, will be able to see their efforts in my life come to fruition. As an Olympian, that may be the most significant part of going to the Olympics, the opportunity to thank your lifelong supporters with the act of representing your country in the Olympics.

I wish I could end this post on a high note, but as I was finishing writing this post, I saw some disturbing news headlines. Unfortunately, the success of the 2004 Iraqi team will not be revisited this year. The IOC has just announced that it is upholding a ban on the Iraqi team over internal problems with the Iraqi Olympic Committee. It is truly sad that the athletes and the people of Iraq will not have the inspiration or the common cause my uncle helped give them.

Drugs and Money (Part 2 of 2)

There is an old saying that when you get together with family, you should not talk about religion or politics. In sports, it’s a little different; the taboo topics seem to be drugs and money. People want to know how drugs impact elite sports and how “amateur athletes” can afford the high cost of training (a few blogs ago I described how it costs about $200 per day to train, not including the opportunity costs of not working a regular job). Every time I talk to a group about the Olympics, I know someone wants to ask. Occasionally a brave soul has the courage to bring up one of these topics and is usually met with stern looks and embarrassment by the rest of the group. Because it seems to be a common theme of interest, I finally decided that it would make for a good blog. In part one, I addressed what I call the big elephant—drugs. Now for part two…

Recently I was talking to a community group about the Olympics. One individual raised his hand and asked a question about the Olympics and “professional” athletes. I assumed he was talking about basketball players who take a hiatus from the substantial salaries of club teams before donning the Team USA uniform at the Olympics. I told him that I believed if those athletes proudly represented their country with the pride and character expected of Team USA, they were a welcome addition. But in this case, the individual did not get the answer he wanted. After I answered several other questions, he again raised his hand and went on a minute long diatribe on how athletes should not be allowed to make money on sports and how doing so wrecked the essence of the Olympics. Honestly, I found it a bit insulting that this individual was suggesting that on top of the 10-12 hour days I put in, I should have another job and should not be allowed to seek corporate partners to support my dream of representing the USA in the Olympics. Despite this, I tactfully informed him that reason I was able to speak to his group for free, speak to over 5000 school kids last year, and hand out free trading cards was because my sponsors support and expect me to conduct public relations work.

Many people who come through the Olympic Training Center think athletes make small fortunes from prize money and endorsements. Furthermore, it is often assumed that the government subsidizes the Olympic Committee (the USOC actually receives no government subsidy and is funded only by corporate sponsorship). In reality, Olympic sports pay virtually nothing. A typical weightlifter of Olympic caliber might make $10,000 per year. Our top shooters (those who are ranked in the top 3 in the world) bring in around $25,000 per year in salary and prize money. For athletes just emerging on the national and international scene, few, if any, make money off their sports. A typical emerging triathlete might make $20,000-$30,000 per year in sponsorships and prize money and spend almost the same flying around the world to compete. Athletes with high visibility will make more money and a few of the top athletes like Michael Phelps score major endorsement deals, but most athletes make nothing more than the cost of training and competition. Small donor sponsors, including hometown family and friends, often subsidize the Olympic dreams of athletes. In my case, I have been fortunate enough to have the Air Force as my biggest supporter because I am an Air Force Officer (now in the Reserves). They help pay the bills and make it possible for me to train 6 days a week to be ready to compete against the best athletes in the world.

The question of “professionalism” still bothers some people, like the gentleman I mentioned earlier, even when they learn how little athletes make. I believe that allowing athletes to seek and retain sponsorships and endorsements is good for the Olympics. The main difference between “professional” Olympians and “professional” athletes from other sports is where they get their money. While a major league sports player earns his salary from the team, Olympians get money almost exclusively through endorsements. This requires athletes to be personable, professional, and presentable to the public. Because of this, most of the high dollar Olympians are exceptionally nice people who are excellent at sharing their Olympic Dream with others.

In most cases, Olympic athletes compete to represent the USA because we love what we do. Many athletes would make more money working minimum wage jobs, but the privilege of competing for your nation at the Olympics is really the best payment of all.

Drugs and Money (Part 1 of 2)

There is an old saying that when you get together with family, you should avoid conversation about religion and politics. In sports, it’s a little different; the taboo topics are drugs and money. People always want to know how drugs impact elite sports and how “amateur athletes” can afford the high cost of training (a few blogs ago I described how it costs about $200 per day to train). Every time I talk to a group about the Olympics, I know someone wants to ask. Occasionally a brave soul has the courage to bring up one of these topics but they are usually met with stern looks of embarrassment from the rest of the group. Because it seems to be a common theme of interest, I finally decided that it would make for a good blog.

Let’s start with the big elephant in the room—drugs. Going back about ten years, there was clearly a major problem with drug usage by US Olympic athletes. While it is unclear how extensive this problem was, the revelation that our highest profile athletes, specifically many in Track and Field, were using drugs severely tarnished the reputation of all US Olympic athletes. Perhaps the biggest reason for this problem was the structural setup of drug testing in the US (and internationally). The US Olympic Committee effectively conducted drug testing of its own athletes which created a problem of credibility and reliability. This is essentially the same problem that every major league sport has right now with their drug testing. From a credibility point of view, can an organization be charged with enforcement of drug policy when that very enforcement is likely to cause detriment to the performance and image of its athletes? Clearly it cannot. So the USOC created an independent organization called the US Antidoping Agency (USADA) back in 2000 to monitor illicit drug use in Olympic athletes. USADA is now completely independent of the USOC and has autonomous authority to test and sanction Olympic athletes both in and out of competition. This functional independence has created the credibility and capability to clean up Olympic sports. While the USOC has and always will always have the goal of making the US Olympic Team the best in the world and promoting the top athletes, USADA’s sole mission is to monitor athletes and keep the US athletes drug free. The conflicting goals work well and this setup makes a lot of sense.

Prior to USADA’s existence, there were major loopholes in the drug testing system. Today, USADA has a policy of no-advance-notice (NAN) out-of-competition (OOC) testing that makes cheating the system virtually impossible. We are required to keep location forms on file with USADA at all times and must consent to drug testing 24/7/365. I have had drug officers come to my house at 6:30am on a Saturday to conduct a NAN OOC test. In a given year, I am likely to get around six NAN OOC tests and the same number of in-competition tests. If I were to refuse a test or test positive for a prohibited substance, it would result in an automatic two year ban from Olympic sports. While this might seem highly intrusive to many of you, I believe it is a great system. Those of us who compete clean are fairly proud to prove it. Furthermore, with the strictest drug testing policies in the world, the US can be proud that their athletes are now probably the cleanest athletes at the Olympics. Being subject to NAN OOC testing is but a small price to pay for this credibility.

The Treadmill Remains Undefeated

In my last blog, I posted some pictures of me running on a treadmill in the lab at the Olympic Training Center using supplemental oxygen. The treadmill in the lab (which I affectionately refer to as the “house of pain”) is not any old treadmill though. This specially made machine can go over 25 miles per hour, faster than any human. It is wider and longer than any commercially available model as well. Many of the best runners in the United States have been tested or trained on this treadmill. Those runners go on to win international competitions and beat the best runners in the world. Every one of them either has or will lose a race at some point in their careers. But because of its work over the years, the treadmill has a well earned tagline that reminds users to stay humble: “The treadmill remains undefeated.”

This morning, I once again went head to head with the treadmill for my Thursday morning supplemental oxygen run. At 5 weeks out from the Olympics, I could not be happier with my fitness and progress I am making. But this morning’s run would prove to be my biggest training challenge of my season… or maybe ever.

Before competing in the Olympics, I will go through a rest period to let my body fully recover and store glycogen, the body’s chief form of energy. Between now any my rest period, which will start in early August, I will be training harder than ever. So when I arrived at the lab this morning (Thursday) at 6am for my run, it had already been a long week. Since Monday, I had already swum three times for a total of 10 miles and run 26 miles including a difficult bout with the treadmill on Tuesday. Furthermore, this morning’s early start was not a welcome event for me.

After a 30 minute warm up, my running coach Alan dropped the bombshell on me. Today my workout would be running 3,000 meters in a simulated race. To make the simulation more real, I would do it at race pace. This was not totally unexpected, but it was completely unwelcome this morning. About 6 weeks ago Alan told me he would make me run a race simulation, but I expected it next week or the week after, and I expected it on a Tuesday when I would be more rested. But today was the day, and I trusted Alan knew what he was doing.

The objective of the run was to run the first kilometer in 2:55, the second in 2:50, and the final kilometer in 2:45. In mile pace, that is starting at 4:40 per mile and building to 4:24 per mile over a 1.82 mile distance. In layman’s terms, it’s really fast.

I did a few striders, short runs designed to loosen up my stride, to get going then got off the treadmill for a final stretching session before starting. Honestly, I find it a bit scary and intimidating to know how much pain I will make myself endure during a run like that, and we noticed that my heart started racing with anticipation and anxiety even before starting. Once I got up the nerve, I jumped on the treadmill and started my race. Within a minute, I could feel something was terribly wrong and I wondered if it was simply panic. 30 seconds later, things were getting worse and faster than simple panic or anxiety could explain. Then it hit me, maybe we had not turned back on the oxygen when I returned to the treadmill from stretching. With a frantic gesture to Alan, I conveyed my concern. He checked and confirmed that the oxygen was shut off and I immediately jumped off the treadmill.

About 10 minutes later, we took another stab at the race, this time with the proper oxygen supply. The difference was night and day. After 2:55 I made the comfortable transition to 2:50 pace and Alan recorded me at 174bpm or 92% of maximum heart rate. At 5:45, we again sped up to 2:45 pace and Alan recorded me at 181 or 95.7% of maximum heart rate. Ahead of time, Alan told me we could stop the race simulation if I exceeded 185 bpm or 98% of my maximum heart rate (it is pretty devastating to approach maximum heart rate and can take days to recover). At 7 minutes into the run, Alan said I could stop the race. Despite the pain, I felt I could tolerate it for 90 more seconds. Twice more, Alan told me I could stop if I wanted, but the competitive side of me kicked in and I determined to finish at all costs. At 8:30 I finished and clocked a 188 bpm heart rate or 99.4% of maximum heart rate. Despite the pain, I was ecstatic that I had completed the test.

Running that fast this far out from the Olympic gives me great confidence in where I will be five weeks from now. I don’t know if any other athlete will be able to match it at the Olympics, but I feel I am well on my way to having the fastest run/swim combination at the Games.

After the workout, I was talking with Alan and Randy (the USOC sports physiologist) about the run. Both were extremely impressed that I could post such a fast time in the middle of the season. After slapping each other on the back a bit, I turned to Alan and Randy and reminded them that regardless of how fast I had just run and how few, if any, other athletes in my sport could match me, we had to remember one thing: Unlike me, the treadmill still remains undefeated.

Supplemental Oxygen

I get a lot of questions about my running training, specifically about my supplemental oxygen training. Last year, National Geographic aired their production “The Incredible Human Machine” which featured my supplemental oxygen training. As promised, here is a full explanation of this high tech training technique.

The Olympic Training Center in Colorado Springs is located at around 6200 ft of altitude. That’s high enough that when I leave for a few weeks, I can feel the effects when I come back (and I grew up at this altitude). For years, we have known about the positive effects of living at altitude. When the human body is subject to the reduced oxygen of an altitude environment, it responds by increasing production of oxygen carrying red blood cells. A highly-trained athlete can expect to increase their red blood cell count by 15-20% when living at altitude. This assists the athlete in circulating oxygen to the body during workouts in a hypoxic (less oxygen) environment. But the real benefit is when you go to sea level. Because your body does not instantly revert to the lower number of red blood cells needed for the oxygen rich environment, you essentially have an artificially high ability to carry oxygen within your bloodstream. For me, this makes it possible to run and swim faster when I go to sea level. The effects are similar to blood doping (inserting red blood cells into the bloodstream via IV), but the practice of blood doping is both illegal and dangerous. Living at altitude is not.

There has always been one problem with training at altitude--it is impossible to train as fast as you can at sea level. It seems that no matter how much your body tries to compensate for the altitude by increasing red blood cells, you never feel the same at altitude. So for years there has been debate about whether the benefits of altitude, higher oxygen carrying capacity, outweigh the downside, lower speed in practice. Until now…

Recently some innovative sports scientists came up with a way for athletes to have it both ways. At the lab at the Olympic Training Center, we have supplemental oxygen machines. These contraptions, custom made with random parts including weather balloons, feed athletes 62% oxygen saturated air, roughly similar to the effects of training at sea level. I use supplemental oxygen (nicknamed SO2) training twice a week in running. With a gas mask on my face, I run on a specially designed treadmill that is wider, longer, and faster than any commercially available unit. In the synthetic, oxygen rich, sea level environment, I am able to push my body much harder than normal for 6200ft. This allows me to train race pace and faster frequently. In turn, my body is able to learn the mechanics of running at race pace, the muscles become adjusted to firing at that intensity, and my brain starts to accept that I am capable of running sea level times. This enables me to perform at a much higher level when I descend to sea level for a competition… for instance the Olympics.

SO2 training is a difficult way to train and has some downsides. First, it is expensive. I suck down almost $50 worth of air each session. It also requires two people to assist in running the apparatus and monitoring my heart rate, effort, and mechanics. As an athlete, it is pretty easy to get bored running on a treadmill for upwards of two hours. It is also extremely painful. The bodily chemical reaction that burns oxygen and carbohydrates produces lactic acid which floods your bloodstream. The more oxygen, the more lactic acid your body produces.

All in all, I think SO2 training gives me a big advantage in running. It gives a pretty big confidence boost to know that you have the physiology and endurance of an altitude athlete but the speed of a sea-level athlete.

A Capitol Fourth (Part 2)

The Fourth of July is by far my favorite holiday. I usually spend it in my hometown of Monument, Colorado which has a major 4th of July bash. It starts with a 4-mile race which I have never won (and that bothers me). The race always falls right in the middle of my hardest training so I am usually exhausted and not running well for it. It’s the biggest race in the Colorado Springs area that day, so all the good runners are there to make it a fast and fun race. After the race, the town of 30,000 gathers for the parade. Typically, everyone is either in the parade or watching it. Monument is still small enough that I see old high school friends and teachers every year.

It was a little bittersweet to be away from home on the 4th, but DC could not have been more fun. In the morning (and after an easy run on the hotel treadmill), Cami and I went along with the other athletes for a private tour of the US Capitol. Our tour guide was really knowledgeable and funny, and we learned a lot about the history of Congress and the Capitol building. After lunch, Cami and I met up with my aunt, uncle, and cousin who live just outside of DC for a tour of the Newseum. We had an “emergency” rehearsal the afternoon before the show because the producers did not like how we walked onto the stage, so I had to duck out of the Newseum for a quick jaunt back to the Capitol. After the Newseum, we had dinner and headed over to the Capitol for the performance.

It was raining for the last few hours before the performance, but no one in the crowd or in the show seemed to mind. Looking up at the Capitol from the stage, you could see the crowd of over 100,000 people, a number dwarfed by the onlookers on the mall. There were tons of American flags, and you could feel the excitement and energy in the crowd.

Our part of the show only took a few minutes and, if I do say so myself, we executed our part flawlessly (of course, we could not really screw up walking 10 feet and standing on a platform while music played!). Looking beyond the stage, we could see the Washington Monument in the distance. It was one of those experiences I will never forget as long as I live.

After the show, we attended a reception in the Capitol building. Cami and I got a good laugh when we ran across a notice in the transportation vehicles stating that athletes would ride in the motorcade, but Congressmen needed to walk. We have a picture of the notice on the photo album page of elibremer.com.

The reception was a lot of fun, and again they honored the Olympians in the room as well as the performers at the event. We stayed at the party until almost midnight, then headed back to the hotel.

While I love being home for the 4th of July, this experience was worth the change-up. I love representing the USA, and seeing the nation honor and support our Olympic Team brought more pride than I can describe. It has been described that the Olympic Team is America’s Team. It really felt like that this weekend, and it reminded me how fortunate I am to represent the USA in the greatest sporting event on the planet.

A Capitol Fourth (Part 1)

A couple weeks ago, Cecil, my media relations guy (no really, I don’t know his proper title) called me up and asked if I wanted to go to Washington DC on the 4th of July. The organizers for the celebration on the steps of the US Capital wanted some Olympians to be on stage for the show in a tribute to the US Olympic Team. While to me, being in DC on the 4th would be like being in New Orleans for Marti Gras for most people, I told him I probably should stay home and train. The next morning when my alarm clock went off, I suddenly realized I had totally blown it. As soon my morning swim was over, I called Cecil and told him I wanted to participate if at all possible. Going to the Olympics is cool, but who in their right mind would turn down the opportunity to be part of the national celebration on the 4th of July?

Fortunately, my window of opportunity had not expired and the event organizers were happy to have me participate. About a week ago, they bought my ticket, booked my hotel, and I was ready to go.

Cami decided to come out with me and we arrived early this morning. Today, there were introductions and a rehearsal at 2:00. Scott Hamilton is doing the announcing and we met him in the hotel lobby. He was very down to earth, and was spending the bulk of his energy chasing after his son.

I also ran into Dominic Grazioli, an Olympic shotgun shooter, who is also an Air Force Academy graduate. We had never met, but had a good time talking during the course of the afternoon.

The first practice show went slowly. We spent a lot of time in our ready area, but that gave me a chance to talk to Scott Hamilton a bit. I remember watching Scott skate when I was younger, so it was a real honor to be able to sit down and have lunch with him. Like most of the Olympic greats I have met, Scott turned out to be both a great athlete and great person.

After the first practice, we had a few hours off so Cami and I decided to check out the Smithsonian exhibit on the US Olympic Team. It took a while to walk across the Mall to see the small exhibit, but it was worth it. From the Smithsonian, we returned to the hotel for some rest before the evening dress rehearsal.

The second practice and dress rehearsal started at 7:15. Our hotel is just down the road from the Capitol, but we took a van anyway. After sitting around for a while, I decided to check out the show. Tyler Hicks and Johnny and the News were performing so it was a pretty good show. There were tens of thousands of people watching the dress rehearsal, but hundreds of thousands are supposed to show up for the real thing (I heard that it’s somewhere around 400,000).

After our rehearsal, the other athletes and I spent a while signing autographs and taking pictures with kids at the rehearsal. It was great to see so many kids excited about the Olympics and cheering us on.

Tomorrow will be the real deal. The producers are concerned about the weather, but the show is going on either way. As it turns out, I have an aunt and uncle in town who are going to come down to watch the show. I have not seen them in years and they have never met Cami, so that will also be a high point for tomorrow.

Cami is taking pictures and video, so I’ll try to put them up shortly on my website. If you want to watch the show, tune into PBS the evening of the 4th and we will be on!

For those of you viewing this blog on USA Today, you can view photos later at www.elibremer.com.