Life Outside the Oval Office: The Track Less Traveled
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The storybook relationship between Hanson Dodge Creative and Nick Symmonds, LLC grew over the next few months. Initially, Tim Dodge flew to Eugene and called a press conference where we announced our new partnership. There were many interviews that followed and I did my best to field them all, but could feel my energy being sapped. I knew I needed to get away from distractions for a while. I needed to get back to training.
I had a good friend who lived in Sydney, Australia who had an extra bedroom for me, and there were several races down there where I could show off my new @HansonDodge temporary tattoo. I boarded a flight from San Francisco, and fourteen tortuous hours later was in the southern hemisphere for the first time in my life.
As excited as I was to be in sunny Australia representing my new corporate partner, I raced poorly in my two competitions there. The hectic months leading up to this trip had been too much. Between the training, the interviews, and the fight with the governing bodies, I had over extended myself. My body was totally fried.
Despite my poor results on the track, Hanson Dodge Creative continued to invest in me. By the time I got back to the states, HDC had done a complete redesign of my web page, and had created an infographic for me to share via social media. Hanson Dodge Creative even went so far as to hire a camera crew to follow me around for two days to film a small YouTube series that chronicled my life as I trained for the Olympic Games.
As a top notch marketing company, HDC realized that winning the auction was only a small part of the story to be told. The much larger part was how a world-class marketing firm could help an athlete grow his brand and create incredible original content.
Though the partnership with Hanson Dodge Creative was better than I had ever hoped, the partnership with my girlfriend at the time was on the rocks. She and I had been in an on and off relationship for most of the past two years. Though our relationship was a bit tumultuous at times, we always gravitated back to each other.
This girl was stunningly gorgeous. I loved her personality and, despite the fact that my job kept us apart frequently, very much enjoyed being in a monogamous relationship with her. As hard as the distance was on us, it was the looming Olympic Trials and my disenchantment with the sport that took the heaviest toll on our relationship.
Following my poor showing in Australia I returned to the states and then flew across several time zones to spend time with my girlfriend. She and I enjoyed running together, lying by the pool, and catching up over meals. However, my frustration and anger toward the world of professional running was still burning hot within me, and I struggled to keep these feelings to myself. The result was that she and I fought often during that trip.
When we weren’t fighting, she told me about a man she had met through her job. Hal Lifson was a publicist based in Beverly Hills, California, and they had been working on a project together for several weeks. She thought Hal might make a good publicist for me. My bullshit detector is very sensitive, and this time it was going off like crazy. I didn’t trust any shifty Los Angeles publicist and told my girlfriend that I wanted to have a chat with this Hal Lifson.
Not too many days later I found myself on the phone with Hal and I have to say it was one of the most entertaining conversations I have ever had. Coming through the phone was a fast talking guy who was equal parts salesman and stand-up comic.
I laughed and played along, listening to him as ideas poured out. Most of Hal’s ideas seemed out there. However, some were really good. I felt that all his ideas were made up on the spot and I had to wonder what this guy could do with some serious time to devote to a project. I waited for him to give me the shake down, to tell me how much it was all going to cost, but that part never came. Rather, Hal switched gears and began to talk about his love of track and field, and distance running in general.
Over the course of several conversations I learned that Hal had been an avid runner most of his life and closely followed the sport of professional track and field. He shared the same frustration I had with how the athletes were marketed, or rather, not marketed, and thought he could help. We stayed off the topic of compensation for his help, but each time we spoke he said to not worry about the money, that we would work something out eventually.
By the time I headed home I was curious about the potential that lay with my new acquaintance. I also felt uneasy about my relationship with my girlfriend. I could see where our relationship was headed, and it spelled trouble for both of us, as we devoted all of our time and energy to our careers. And, I was in the middle of my final push toward the Olympic Games.
On the flight home all I could think about were the Olympic Trials, set to take place in a few short months. Given the way things were going, I had an overwhelming feeling that the stress of our relationship was going to hinder both of our abilities to succeed in our goals. When the plane touched down I found a quiet corner of the airport and called her. As I tried unsuccessfully to choke back sobs, I told her how I felt, then ended our relationship. It was an incredibly hard thing to do, but I felt it was necessary for both of us. As soon as the conversation was over I felt a sense of relief. Now we both could devote all of our energy toward our careers. And that is exactly what I did.
With my relationship woes over, I continued to streamline my life and put my fight with the governing bodies on the back burner. Then I packed my bags and headed to Flagstaff, Arizona with my team to train at altitude for a month. As is often the case, I am unable to maximize my training unless I am in a remote location that has minimal distractions. The small town of Flagstaff, tucked away in the Sierra Nevada range of northern Arizona, fits this description well. Coupled with this is the fact that at seven thousand feet of elevation, there is much less available oxygen to fuel the muscles. As a result, the body builds more red blood cells and these oxygen-transporting cells stay with an athlete for weeks after returning to sea level, allowing for increased performance.
While I was there, Hal and I had several conversations. During one of these chats he and I came to an agreement that would bring him on board as my publicist. I knew I wanted to take full advantage of my run up to the 2012 Games and felt that the investment was worth the risk. We also talked about the end of my relationship and Hal suggested that it was better for me from an emotional standpoint, as well as a public relations standpoint. He continued to help me create my public image as a world traveling, outdoor loving, bachelor.
Hal is a bright, out-of-the-box thinker who has spent much of his life in southern California. He has been around long enough, and seen enough marketing campaigns, to know that sex sells. The fact that I was now single made his job much easier, as I could now be presented to the public as “available.”
Almost daily Hal and I chatted on the phone to brainstorm various PR and marketing ideas. He was adamant about going outside the tiny world that professional track and field exists in. “We have to go mainstream,” he said over and over before following up with, “Think pop culture.” I respected his out-of-the-box thinking, but many of his ideas were too outrageous for me to feel comfortable putting into practice. We bounced ideas off each other frequently, trying to come up with just the right idea to get the media on our side going into the Olympic Trials. I enjoyed my conversations with Hal very much and quickly formed a friendship with my new business associate.
In May I returned from Flagstaff in great shape. To celebrate all my hard work I treated myself to a day of fishing on the McKenzie River. I had just finished hauling in a twenty-pound king salmon when my phone chirped. It was a text from Hal that read:
I HAVE IT. YOU ARE GOING TO ASK PARIS HILTON OUT ON A DATE. I HAVE ALREADY COMPOSED A LETTER FOR YOU TO SEND TO HER DAD, RICK HILTON, EXPRESSING YOUR INTEREST IN TAKING PARIS OUT. GET BACK TO ME ASAP. THIS IS BIG!
I laughed out load, put my phone back in my pocket, and continued to fish. But, text after text began to come in and my phone never stopped chirping. I tried my best to ignore it, but realized there was no use. Fin
ally, I picked up the phone and called Hal.
I did my best to be patient, and let Hal explain how he had come up with this crazy idea. Really, I just wanted to hang up and get back to fishing. I expressed the concerns I had regarding the idea, but Hal was adamant we pursue it. Frustrated that Hal wouldn’t let the idea go, I responded, “This is not a brilliant publicity move, this is harassing the Hilton family!”
Hal laughed, and then explained that he knew the assistant to Paris’s father, Rick Hilton, and that he could get an email to him. Finally, tired of saying no to his ideas and eager to get back to fishing, I told Hal to run with it and that I would play along. However, as I placed cast after cast into the deep, dark pools of the McKenzie River, I began to let my mind wander and wondered what it would actually be like to go on a date with Paris Hilton. I wasn’t sure how realistic this plan was, but I knew that if she was interested I certainly was.
When I returned home that afternoon Hal helped me compose an email to Rick Hilton. In it I expressed my respect for Paris’s stunning looks and business acumen, and formally asked Rick’s permission to take his daughter out on a date. I certainly never expected a response, but Hal told me that a response wasn’t the important part. The important part was that we would copy a friend of his on the email. This friend, Joe Battaglia, was a writer for the NBC Olympic web page and could guarantee that a story about this would be published. Response or not, we’d get mileage out of the email to Rick Hilton.
True to his word, Joe published the story on NBCOlympics.com and people started to talk. Most people asked why I was no longer dating my girlfriend. Others asked why I chose to ask Paris Hilton (of all people) out on a date.
I answered a few of the questions, and had a good time reading through the rest of them. My Twitter following, I saw, had jumped a few hundred since the story was published, so Hal had done his job.
A few days later I was looking through the list of my new followers and saw something that made my jaw drop. Next to a little blue check mark was the name “Paris Hilton.” I clicked on the account, which was verified and had several million followers. It was definitely Paris Hilton’s Twitter account. Next to her name was: FOLLOWS YOU. Paris Hilton is following me on Twitter! I was just about to compose a tweet to brag about this when I remember that many celebrities don’t actually manage their own social media accounts. I assumed one of her team had seen the article and followed me, either to go along with the game, or simply out of pity.
I put it out of my mind and refocused on preparing for the Olympic Trials. I was able to do so until the evening of June 4, 2012. That night, while eating dinner at a restaurant, I pulled out my phone and started to check emails. One caught my eye that simply had PARIS listed as the sender. I looked over both of my shoulders, expecting to see one of my friends watching as he or she played a joke on me. When I opened the email it listed the sender’s address as coming from Paris Hilton’s management company. Holy crap. The email read:
HEY NICK,
MY GIRLFRIEND JUST SENT ME AN ARTICLE SHE READ ONLINE. SO I CALLED MY DAD’S OFFICE TO ASK FOR THE EMAIL YOU SENT.JUST WANTED TO SAY HELLO AND ALSO THANK YOU FOR YOUR KIND WORDS ABOUT ME. I WAS VERY TOUCHED AND IT MADE ME SMILE.
XO PARIS
I nearly fell out of my seat. I looked around the restaurant to see if anyone could see the shocked look on my face. As much as I wanted to walk around the restaurant and tell my fellow diners that I had just received a personal email from Paris Hilton, I decided to play it cool and forwarded the email to Hal. Within seconds I had a response:
ARE U KIDDING ME??? I AM AT THE TRACK AND ABOUT TO RUN.HOW CAN I RUN??? THIS IS INCREDIBLE!! DO NOT REPLY YET. WAIT TIL WE TALK. PLAY IT COOL. DON’T ACT OVER ANXIOUS. DON’T STEP IN THE TRAP. WE’LL DISCUSS. THIS IS AMAZING!!!!
My head was spinning as I drove home, writing and rewriting, in my head what I would say back to her. In the morning, Hal, continuing to prove that he was worth every dollar I was paying him, had already composed a response for me. I edited it and put my personal touches to it before sending it on to my new heiress pen pal:
HI PARIS,
WHAT A SURPRISE TO HEAR FROM YOU! THE PERFECT FINALE TO A DAY OF TOUGH WORKOUTS. I AM VISITING BEVERLY HILLS TOMORROW JUST FOR THE DAY. DOING AN INTERVIEW FOR THE INSIDER AT BEVERLY HILLS HIGH SCHOOL IN THE MORNING AND THEN A 7 MILE RUN AFTER. MY MEDIA GUY IS ONLY ALLOWING ONE STORY AS I HAVE TO GET BACK TO EUGENE FOR PRACTICE THURSDAY MORNING. I WOULD LOVE TO MEET UP IF YOU HAVE TIME. THIS WILL BE MY ONLY TRIP TO L.A. BEFORE THE OLYMPIC TRIALS. I HEAR THEY HAVE A KILLER GRILLED CHEESE SANDWICH AT THE BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL COFFEE SHOP AND ITS VERY LOW KEY THERE. I LIKE LOW KEY. THANKS FOR THE EMAIL. HOPE YOU ARE A TRACK AND FIELD FAN!
RESPECTFULLY,
NICK
OH AND BTW YOU LOOKED INCREDIBLE THE OTHER NIGHT AT THE MTV MOVIE AWARDS! :)
Fortunately, I had booked a flight to Los Angles after Hal had arranged for me to appear on CBS’s, The Insider. During the interview I would be filmed training at Beverly Hills High School, and speaking about my intense desire to meet the girl of my dreams, Paris Hilton. I was nervous about going on a trip just two weeks before the Olympic Trials, but I knew that this was the kind of exposure I couldn’t pass up, and that the distraction might actually be a good thing. Afraid that my coach would say no if I asked for permission to leave, I booked a ticket that would have me back in twenty-four hours. That way I would not miss a scheduled practice.
I felt guilty about sneaking behind Coach Rowland’s back and eagerly checked my email for a response from Paris that would confirm I was making the right decision. My heart raced each time I looked at my emails, and it felt good to feel nervous about something other than my upcoming races. Was this really going to happen? Had Hal, Joe, and I somehow convinced Paris Hilton to meet me? I tried to not get my hopes up as I headed to the Eugene airport. As I sat on my flight to Los Angeles I knew that worst-case scenario, during this trip I was going to appear on national TV and give my sponsors incredible exposure. Best case scenario: I would appear on national TV and meet Paris Hilton.
The next day I woke up early and grabbed a strong cup of coffee before Hal came to pick me up at my hotel. As we drove to Beverly Hills High we talked about how to best answer the reporter’s questions. Covered head to toe in Nike gear I ran laps, conducted the interview, and at the end, looked into the camera and officially asked Paris to come watch me make my second Olympic Team at the 2012 Olympic Trials. As soon as the interview was done I checked my email and saw what I had so eagerly been waiting for:
HEY NICK,
IN NEW YORK ABOUT TO BOARD A FLIGHT BACK TO LA. I HAVE A COUPLE MEETINGS RIGHT WHEN I LAND, BUT AM FREE IN THE LATE AFTERNOON. YES, I LOVE THE BH HOTEL, REALLY CLOSE TO MY HOUSE. AND YES I AM A TRACK AND FIELD FAN, I USED TO BE A RUNNER IN SCHOOL. THANK YOU AGAIN FOR ALL THE NICE THINGS YOU SAID ABOUT ME. IT’S NICE TO HEAR WHEN PEOPLE SEE AND ACKNOWLEDGE ME FOR THE BUSINESS WOMAN I AM AND NOT THE CHARACTER I CREATED IN MY REALITY SHOWS.HAVE A GREAT INTERVIEW AND RUN. LOOK FORWARD TO MEETING YOU TOO.
XOXO PARIS
I shot back a response:
HI PARIS,
THE INTERVIEW AND WORKOUT WENT WELL. IT’S A BEAUTIFUL DAY IN BEVERLY HILLS! NOW WITH WORK ALL DONE I GET TO ENJOY SOME FREE TIME HERE. I DON’T HAVE TO LEAVE FOR LAX UNTIL 6 PM. NO DOUBT YOU ARE BUSY TODAY, BUT IF YOU HAVE THE TIME IT WOULD BE MY PLEASURE TO BUY YOU A DRINK.HARD TO BEAT THE BH HOTEL AND I’VE ALWAYS WANTED TO SIP A GIN N’ TONIC IN THE POLO LOUNGE, PREFERABLY WITH AN INTELLIGENT, BEAUTIFUL WOMAN FOR COMPANY ;) TRAVEL SAFE AND HOPE TO SEE YOU SOON,
NICK
As the day went on she continued to keep me updated on her meetings and when she thought she would be free. While we waited for her, Hal and I toured the Beverly Hills Hotel. The iconic building opened in 1912 and has seen many celebrities come through its doors. It is beautiful and classy, the perfect place to meet a beautiful heiress.
Late in the afternoon I received the following email:
HEY NICK,
JUST GOT OUT OF MY LAST MEETING FOR THE DAY. IT’S IN BURBANK, SO THE TRAFFIC IS BRUTAL, SO I WILL BE RUNNING A LIL LATE. LLL SEE YOU AROUND 430 XO
Hal dropped me at the Polo Lounge in the Beverly Hills Hotel where I explained to the hostess that I was meeting Miss Hilton for drinks and that we would prefer a private booth somewhere outside in the back. The hostess led me to a booth she had selected and I took a seat. Then I looked around the magnificent courtyard, and at the white linen covered tables and flowering plants that were hanging everywhere. I don’t belong here, I thought. I felt like everyone in the lounge was looking at me and saying to each other, “That guy over there is an imposter.” It reminded me of my first trip to the USATF National Championships, and my first time overseas, traveling with Team USA.
Before long my heart started to race uncontrollably. Calm down. I then did something I often do when I’m nervous in a social setting. I closed my eyes and imagined myself on the starting line of the Olympic Games final. I imagined looking into the crowd, as one hundred thousand people looked back at me, and I told myself that my success depended largely on my gaining control of my emotions. As I did this I felt my heart rate slow, and my breathing become more relaxed. Then my phone went off:
HEY I’M HERE AT THE POLO LOUNGE, WHERE ARE YOU? XO
I jumped out of the booth, re-tucked my shirt, and walked to the front of the restaurant. Standing near the doorway was exactly what I expected: a slender, graceful, blonde woman in a form-fitting dress with a big hat and giant sunglasses. What I didn’t expect was to find her standing there alone. Where was her publicist, her best friend, her bodyguards? More important, where was the little Chihuahua, Tinkerbell? To my pleasant surprise Miss Paris Hilton had come to the hotel alone. I walked up with a big grin on my face, introduced myself, and gave her a hug. She kissed me on the cheek and took my hand as I led her back to our table.