The Competition

The last couple days since the competition have gone by so fast that I suddenly realized I had not posted a blog about the competition. For those of you back at home, I gather the TV coverage was not great (and in the middle of the night) so you probably don’t have much of an idea what my Olympic debut was like from an athletic point of view.

To say I got off to a bad start in the competition is an understatement. Shooting is the first, and my worst event, and I have historically struggled in it. This year has been a banner year for me in the event, and I felt that I was ready to for a good shoot. During the first shot, I was too aggressive on the trigger and pulled the shot clear into the four ring (4 out of 10). It was so unnerving that I had trouble getting focused on shot two which came shortly thereafter. Another bad shot (6) ended any realistic chances I had for a medal in the first two minutes of my 10 hour competition. But this is the Olympics and you just don’t give up—I certainly didn’t, as my last 18 shots were fine and I pulled together an impressive comeback.

Coming into fencing after a devastating shoot is tough. You know you are behind the eight ball and the fight becomes dissociating yourself from the overall results and focusing on the bout at hand. The first half of fencing was okay for me. I had some great touches and was fencing average against a tough group. Toward the end of my fence, I dropped a few extra bouts that cost me pretty badly. I can’t remember ever being as devastated in a competition as I was walking out of the fencing venue that morning. It was not about having a bad competition, it was feeling that I had come in with such great preparation and not performed to the level I could.

The swim offered me a chance at redemption. I came out of a swimming background and swam at the Air Force Academy in college. I had to dig down pretty deep to find the motivation to swim, but I knew it was an event in which I would shine. I have been working on my swimming since qualifying for the Olympics last year and I wanted to see the fruits of my labor, even if it would not produce a medal. Wearing the new Speedo LZR suits (same design as the US Swim Team), I nailed a best time in the event by nearly two seconds… finally something to boost my spirits.

Riding was next and it proved to shake up the standings big time. In a rainy stadium filled with nearly 35,000 (extremely loud) people, the horses and riders had huge problems getting around the course. The course was as high as any course I have ridden, and the refs went out and checked a few of the jumps because they looked too high (somewhere around 5 of the jumps maxed out at 4 feet high and 4 feet in depth). My ride was fairly good and moved me up about 7 places as some of the top athletes moved to the back of the competition.

All summer I trained for the running course that was conducted at the Olympic test event. It was more or less straight with gentle turns and perfect for me. My coaches and I anticipated hot and humid weather so I trained all summer in long sleeve shirts and sometimes long pants in Colorado’s 95 degree heat to prepare. But like so much that day, the running also changed and my preparations were diminished. It was cool and rainy (which I usually like), but more importantly the course had eight 180 degree turns per 1000 meter lap. This has the effect of nearly leveling the playing field as the good and the bad runners all have to nearly stop at every corner. Fortunately, I was far enough back that I was not going to lose a medal or a top ten finish due to poor course design. So I put together my best effort in the event and ran up to 22nd place.

Afterward, I finally had a chance to meet up with my family in the stands. My intentions to quietly slip in behind them to say hi were interrupted when some in the crowd realized I was an athlete. After nearly 30 minutes of signing autographs and taking pictures with those in the stadium, I finally got to see my family.

It was an emotional roller coaster to go through that day. After shooting and fencing, I was so disappointed in myself I could barely text my wife to tell her I was okay. But the crowd of people who mobbed me after the competition ecstatic about meeting an Olympian reminded me that there is a lot to be said for just being in the competition.

Meeting with my family and friends afterward was also a big boost. I remember a Hallmark ad that ran during the Olympics a while ago. It showed an athlete’s parents giving her two cards before she competed. One was titled “If you win” the other “If you don’t win.” She opens both cards and they are the same. Both say “We are so proud of you.” That’s kind of what it felt like. I may not have been too proud of my performance, but my friends and family didn’t care. They came to support me regardless of the outcome. They would have liked for me to have a great competition, but they were just as happy to see me participate and finish the day. It was a welcome ending to one of the most difficult and devastating days of my athletic career.

So I came into this competition with high but realistic expectations. They didn’t pan out this time, but at the end of the day I can look back and say I did everything I could to be ready for the Olympics. There was not a workout I missed, a sacrifice I didn’t make, or a preparation I could have done better to be ready for this day. When you prepare like that, you just give yourself higher odds of succeeding, you don’t guarantee it. On four of five days, I think I would have had an outstanding competition given my preparation, but that one in five day still lingers and can come out at the least opportune time.

So my performance was not what I expected or hoped for, but I can now say I competed in the Olympics. Sometimes you have to walk away and hold your head high realizing that your only accomplishment was representing your country, your family, and your friends with dignity an pride despite all else. But maybe that is the most important thing anyway…