Right on Track

by Sanya Richards-Ross

  Because I’d done photo shoots with Nike before, I knew what to expect. I’d be wearing their newest gear designed for athletes. While the shoes and sports bras and Lycra shorts are functional for sport, they leave little to the imagination. There would be a lot of skin showing. My skin.

  Until that moment, my family had seen the ravaging effects of my condition, but I hadn’t needed to face much public scrutiny. When my mom and I were escorted into the studio, it was as I’d expected: filled with photographers, lighting assistants, and others who would facilitate the shoot.

  My mom joined me in a changing booth as I stripped out of the clothes I’d worn on the airplane. She and I had both mastered how to use makeup and clothing to disguise my scars and lesions. But I’d grown weary of hiding.

  “Mom,” I sighed, “I didn’t do this to myself. I’m tired of hiding it.”

  She listened patiently.

  I announced, “I’m going to embrace my reality.”

  I thought she might resist, but instead, she surprised me. “Go for it, baby girl.”

  Her support meant the world to me and gave me the courage to step out of that dressing room and face a roomful of eyes who were used to viewing the perfect bodies of elite athletes. I was wearing a sleeveless cropped shirt and short Lycra tights.

  The setup that day was epic. The room had been carefully staged with lights and backdrops. People were dashing in every direction. It felt like an honor and a privilege, but I noticed a now-familiar knot in my stomach.

  As I walked toward the center of the room from the dressing room, I felt the eyes of others following me. Though I’d brought makeup, I’d not yet applied it to my stomach, back, legs, and arms. I noticed that some folks turned away quickly, being careful not to stare.

  As the group began to gather around me, I smiled. “Guys, I have an autoimmune disease. It scars my skin, but it is not contagious and I’m fine.”

  I could read the relief on their faces and I felt the tension in the room dissipate.

  I realized, in that moment, I was the one who could set the tone for others to know how to respond. And it worked! We had a fantastic shoot. It took courage to be uncovered in front of a group of people I didn’t know, but I’m glad I did it. The photos turned out beautifully, as the post-production team smoothed all my scars for the campaign.

  That experience changed me. It gave me such compassion for and an affinity with women and girls who struggle with a variety of issues related to appearance. Whether we struggle with weight, or with a skin discoloration, or disfigurement, or disability, or hair loss, or injury, just about every woman and girl knows what it is to feel as though we fall short of society’s expectations.

  And though I’d never fully noticed the ways those messages were being communicated before, I suddenly began to see and hear them everywhere: television, magazines, videos, online ads. The way those expectations were conveyed were never explicit. Not once did I hear anyone say, “You need to look like a flawless Barbie doll.” But I began to notice the way that very message saturated both the media and women’s psyches.

  Some thought their skin tone was too dark.

  Some wanted to be thinner or more toned.

  Others desperately wanted their hair to be different than it was.

  And others wanted to be taller or shorter.

  I’ll confess that the thoughts I’d have about my body were always an odd juxtaposition. On one hand, it was this amazing body that was faster than any other woman’s body in the country! When I ran, my body was doing exactly what God designed mine to do. And that was amazing. But when it came to my skin, I was often filled with shame over how my body appeared to others.

  Whenever I was tempted to despair, I remembered what my body could do and reminded myself: God made my body good.

  Attempted Fixes

  One day I had an idea about how I could fix the discoloration the scarring was causing in my skin.

  Because I’m naturally brown-skinned, I’d never gone to a sunless tanning booth before, but this seemed like it might help even out my skin tone. Though I believe that there are ways for folks with brown skin to achieve a natural-looking color in a tanning booth, that was not my experience. There were different shades of spray, but I needed the most extreme one because of the darkness of the lesions. I got sprayed and then was put into an oven-like machine to bake, so that the coloring would “set” and not rub off on the inside of clothing.

  Let’s just say that when I’d finished baking, I was not any kind of color that was recognizably human. You know how the Oompa Loompas in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory were pretty orange? I wasn’t orange, but I was so darkly discolored that I also was unrecognizable!

  I think it’s fair to say that the tanning salon was not the best option for me.

  A better fix did come along, though, right when I needed it most.

  Not long after we’d visited Nike’s headquarters, I was having a really bad outbreak on my arms. One afternoon I received a box in the mail of the newest line of running wear. My mom, who is usually as excited as I am to see what comes from Nike, opened the box for me.

  I saw her staring at what was inside and shaking her head.

  When I went over to look at what they’d sent, she announced, “God is so good to you.”

  Nike’s newest style for female runners was compressed arm sleeves!

  They’d been in development too long to have been created in response to the photo shoot of my less-than-perfect skin, but it did feel like a gracious gift from above.

  My silent prayers had been heard.

  Getting Over It

  I couldn’t wear arm sleeves everywhere, though. And although Photoshopping my skin for the Nike campaign was a success, digitally altering my image was less feasible when I wasn’t being viewed in a print ad.

  In the spring of 2011, Ross and I were headed to a track meet held annually in Austin called the Texas Relays. It was mainly for high school and college kids, but a few pros competed there. When we arrived, it was scorching hot. Well over 100 degrees.

  Any other year I could have worn long sleeves to the event. But with the blazing heat that year, I would have looked and felt ridiculous.

  The morning of the event, I stared into my closet. This wouldn’t be like Nike: a studio of thirty people I could explain Behçet’s to. There would be thirty thousand track fans at the Relays. Ross and I were going that day as spectators.

  “Babe,” I said to Ross, who was also getting ready, “what should I wear?”

  He’d never found my skin condition to be as distracting as I did. In fact, seeing no reason to be ashamed of it, he’d always encouraged me to embrace everything about my appearance. I knew he’d have my back.

  I chose a white sleeveless shirt and jeans. Though I was used to wearing very little fabric on my body, I felt as exposed as most women do in a string bikini at the beach!

  When we arrived at the race, fans began to come up to us and ask for autographs and selfies together. Always grateful for the affection of my awesome fans, I was happy to oblige.

  “Babe,” Ross whispered in my ear, “most people aren’t even seeing it. You’re fine. It’s all in your head.”

  And he was right.

  What felt like a hideous distraction to me was barely noticeable to others.

  When I peeked on Facebook that night, I could see that in some of the pictures it looked like I was cringing. Oh well, I was proud of myself for letting go of my insecurities and facing the world.

  Glancing over my shoulder at my iPad, Ross whispered again, “Baby, you’re beautiful.”

  That day, his voice sounded a lot like the voice of the One who made me.

  Getting Comfortable in This Skin

  I want you to hear that although I believe with all of my heart that God made our bodies good, and doesn’t want us to undergo the shame that harms us, I didn’t experience a sudden magical moment when I could look at the parts of me I didn’t like and immedia
tely feel great about myself.

  It took time.

  Initially, I was tremendously insecure. It was hard for me to find inner confidence and peace. In the beginning, I did wear long sleeves in 110-degree heat!

  For a while, my assumptions and preconceived ideas about who I was needed to catch up with the truth about who God had determined I was. Each day I was able to agree with what was true, I experienced more and more freedom.

  I’m not defined by this condition.

  I didn’t do anything to deserve this condition.

  The judgment of those who don’t understand this condition doesn’t affect me.

  It took me years of clinging to those truths to become comfortable in my scarred skin.

  A few years ago, my dermatologist suggested that I wean off the drugs I’d been taking for Behçet’s and instead pay close attention to relieving some of the stressors in my life. Really? The prescription I was receiving was to take long baths and relax? I could do that!

  My favorite relaxation day started with a long hot bath while watching The Golden Girls. (If you don’t know the silly sitcom from the late ’80s and early ’90s, promise me you’ll google it.) It was light and funny and allowed me to laugh. Then I’d read. Some of my favorite books included Joyce Meyer’s Battlefield of the Mind and Devon Franklin’s Produced by Faith. I always love hearing how other people made it through difficult times, and those books really inspired me. Don’t get me wrong, my training was still intense, so every moment wasn’t a hot bubble bath! But I was able to treat my nervous system with kindness and TLC.

  Though I sometimes will experience a recurrence of mouth ulcers, I don’t experience the same global outbreaks I once did. When I don’t wear makeup, you can even recognize a little black scar on the corner of my mouth—my war wounds.

  It reminds me of the battle I once fought daily.

  And it reminds me how far I’ve come.

  Today I have an inner confidence and strength that no one can take away from me. I can enjoy a glamorous day of getting beautiful for a special event, or I can kick around the house in sweats and no makeup. I’ve learned how to value who I am above what I look like and, of course, to value others that way too.

  Change It or Love It

  If there’s something you’d like to be different about your body, I encourage you to do one of two things.

  If it’s something you can change by honoring your body and treating it right, with healthy diet and exercise, then go for it. And practice patience. Getting healthy isn’t something that happens overnight. It takes time, so be patient with yourself.

  But in a lot of cases—if you don’t like your eyes or your ears, if you think your hips are too wide or your legs are too thin—the biggest win may be to simply choose to be satisfied with who you are and how you look. That choice is one that blesses you and blesses those around you. Believe me, I know it’s not always easy. It took me three years to wear a sleeveless shirt in public! I get it. But learning to be comfortable in your own skin—no matter the color, shape, or texture—is what you’re made for.

  I’ve often noticed that the women who have the prettiest spirits, the ones who radiate beauty from the inside, are the ones who, regardless of their physical features, seem the most attractive to others. Although our culture tells us that beauty comes from something outside of us—the curve of a nose, the shine of our hair, the products we use, the outfits we buy—I believe we cultivate beauty by tending to what’s on the inside. In my opinion, that’s good news, because true beauty doesn’t have to depend on either good genes or a lot of money to buy good jeans! As you feed your spirit by welcoming God to transform you, by spending time with other believers, by tipping your face toward God’s word and God’s voice, you nurture a beauty that can never fade. You invest in beauty that lasts.

  If you decide to embrace the goodness of accepting yourself as you are, I encourage you to notice the women around you who embody that freedom already. Who’s a woman you know—in your family, at your church, at your school, in your neighborhood—who is comfortable in her own skin? As you look around, I think you’ll notice that these women come in a variety of sizes, shapes, colors, and personalities! Discover what it is that fuels this woman’s confidence.

  What is it about this woman that you admire? Does she spend more time noticing others than she does looking in the mirror? Does she have a faith in God that gives her a purpose that’s grander than taking great selfies?

  Learn from the women around you who are living in freedom.

  Choosing to accept yourself as you are, and not as others might advise you to be, allows you to live in the freedom you’re made for.

  Trust me, it’s the best way.

  RIGHT ON TRACK CHALLENGE

  Is there something about your body you’d like to change?

  •Is there something you can change with healthy practices?

  •Are you being called to embrace the way you’re made?

  •What does it look like to live in that freedom?

  •What can you do today to choose freedom?

  Talk to a woman who’s comfortable in her own skin, and then journal about that encounter. Ask God to equip you to live into the freedom for which you’re made.

  CHAPTER 11

  REACHING FOR YOUR GOALS

  In the 2008 Summer Olympic Games in Beijing, I’d earned a bronze medal in the 400. While I could see how that was a huge accomplishment, I was disappointed by it. I’d come to win, and I wanted to go home with gold.

  My teammates and I would have the opportunity to do it in the 4x400 relay.

  Mary Wineberg, Allyson Felix, Monique Henderson, and I made it to the finals and were placed in lane 4, beside Russia, our greatest rivals outside of Jamaicans.

  Monique ran the third leg. When she handed me the baton, we were in second place. I knew that many runners faced the temptation to power ahead of the competition with a burst of speed too soon. And while it would have been great to take the lead early, I knew I wanted to save something for the home stretch so I had the lead when it counted. I chose to run my own race, the one Coach Clyde and I had agreed on, and my goal for the first half of the lap was to not let Anastasiya Kapachinskaya get too far away from me.

  With sixty meters left in the race, I decided I was going for the gold. (I know it’s a cliché, but that moment—and all that it meant to me, to my teammates, and my country—is why the cliché even exists!) I made my move, pulling out of the inside lane into the second lane, accelerating and passing Kapachinskaya. In the last ten meters, feeling the strength of my legs beneath me, I knew I had the win. I thrust my upper body across the finish line, pumping the baton in the air as I crossed. That finish has been called one of the most thrilling gold medal moments in the Olympic Games. And not just by my parents! My teammates gathered around me, and we prayed right there on the track, thanking God for the privilege and strength to do what we’d been born and trained to do.

  Glancing toward the stands, I located my mom, Shari, and the other family and friends who’d come to support me and the team. My mom was going wild! It was everything my whole family had worked so hard for. Though the medal would be draped around my neck, I knew I was holding it for all of us.

  A Joyful Homecoming

  The United States 2008 Summer Olympic team brought home 110 medals, more than any other country. It wasn’t just women’s track and field that were bringing home gold, either. Michael Phelps, Ryan Lochte, and the men’s swim team were wearing them. Kristin Armstrong had one in cycling. Nastia Liukin and Shawn Johnson donned them for gymnastics. Venus and Serena Williams won gold for women’s doubles tennis. Kerri Walsh Jennings and Misty May-Treanor grabbed gold in beach volleyball. Our women’s and men’s basketball teams—Lisa Leslie, LeBron, Kobe—all brought home gold.

  Before we’d left Beijing, the entire U.S. Olympic team—596 athletes—had been invited to appear on The Oprah Winfrey Show in Chicago. Not all of us showed up, but most of us did. As
you might guess, we didn’t fit in Oprah’s studio.

  The show to celebrate the returning American Olympians was filmed outside, on a stage constructed just for that episode. Our relay team was among the few teams Oprah had selected to interview. She was chatting with Nastia Liukin and Shawn Johnson right before our segment. Shawn had won gold in women’s balance beam, and she and Nastia had competed head to head in the women’s artistic individual all-around, with Nastia surprising many by winning the gold. Because we were scheduled to be interviewed next, the four of us were close enough to hear that interview.

  When Oprah asked Nastia the secret to her success, Nastia mentioned her father’s influence and also said that creating a vision board had been crucial to her victory.

  My ears perked up.

  She’d created a vision board that showed all she hoped to achieve. It included pictures from magazines, competitions, medals, and scores. She said that being able to visualize her goals helped her accomplish them.

  Completely smitten by the idea, I thought, I’m totally going to do that.

  I’ve always been a visual person. In high school, I’d begun taping my goals to the mirror in my bedroom, and I always kept journals where I recorded my times and set goals for future times and records I intended to break. So when I heard that creating a vision board had been helpful for Nastia, something clicked, and I immediately knew that I’d be implementing the practice.

  I created my first vision board in 2009. Just the process of putting it together helped me think through what I wanted to accomplish. And once I hung it on the wall, where I could see it every day, I was forced to ask myself: How will I get there? Once I decided I wanted to win individual Olympic gold, write a book, and start a business, the vision board helped me to see not only the process I’d need to embrace, but also the partners who’d help me get there.

  Achieving your dreams requires envisioning the end result.

  Whether it’s the goals you have for yourself as a Christian, as a student, as an athlete, or as an artist, being able to see where you’re headed is critical. If you can’t picture where you’re going, chances are you’ll never arrive.