Once in the mountains, he rarely mentions to the team what is happening in the hospitals and cancer treatment centers 300 miles away, where his wife is fighting her battle. He doesn’t have to. They all know what he is going through. They don’t pry. He doesn’t want them to, and going on about personal struggles isn’t his way. What helps is being around the mission, talking about pulling off this attempted resuscitation of distance running that makes him and all his runners feel they are working toward something larger than they are. Whether Sue wants him with her or not, and of course she does in some way, he will be back on the coast soon enough, helping her try to win each day merely by the act of living the only way she has ever lived—fully.
The only real tension arises as the Olympic Games approach. Bob knows how busy he is going to be there as the U.S. distance coach. He is also worried that Sue will feel too ill to be abroad, and there are few things worse than becoming seriously ill in a foreign country, 7,000 miles from your personal physicians. Her coming to the Olympic Games might not be the best idea, he says.
After all the work they have put in, how can she not be there? She has a plan. They have friends, friends who are happy to care for her in Athens while Bob is shuttling back and forth between the capital and the team base camp on Crete where the American runners are staying, and then overseeing the competition once it begins. Very quickly he realizes she is telling him what is going to happen more than discussing the matter with him. She is going to Athens, she says. Bob knows better than to challenge her on this one.
Spring–Summer 2004, California, Crete, Athens
An Olympic marathon is unique in the sport of long distance running. In addition to the weight and history of the race, the competition brings a unique challenge. In all the other major marathons, runners return to the same streets each year. They become familiar with the nuances of each course. In New York, they know about the deceptive hills in those five bridges, and that the real race doesn’t begin until Central Park at the 24th mile. They know that Boston is flat and downhill for the better part of 16 miles, mostly uphill for five, then down again to the finish. They know about the damp chill of London, the almost eerie flatness of Chicago. The fast straight boulevards in Berlin. They come to them again and again and run them in their mind as they find similar terrain in training.
In every Summer Games, the event on the Olympic marathon course is the first and likely the last time the race will take place on that exact route. An Olympic marathon course is once-in-a-lifetime. There is no learning curve, no chance to acclimate yourself to its unique falls and rises, its prevailing weather, the sounds of its crowds and the feeling of the pavement beneath your feet, the special approach to the Olympic Stadium.
Bob Larsen first travels to Athens to check out the marathon course in the summer of 2003, following the track and field World Championships. The course has already been laid out. It will follow the historic, 42.5-kilometer journey from Marathon to Athens that gives the race its name and also a good portion of its drama—it is after all the course that killed Pheidippides two and a half millennia ago, after he ran to Athens to announce the Greek victory in the war with the Persians. As Larsen begins his drive in the village of Marathon and heads inland, away from the sea, two things strike him.
The first is he can’t believe how hilly it is here. The start is tame enough as the course heads south from Marathon along the western coast of the Athenian peninsula, twisting through the seaside town of Nea Makri for the first five miles. After that, the slow retreat from the coast begins. The route ascends the cliffs through Rafina, then begins curving to the northeast and the Greek capital about 10 miles in. Running away from the sea generally means one thing—climbing. And that’s what happens here. The road climbs and climbs and climbs some more. It doesn’t start its slow descent to Athens and the ancient Olympic Stadium until past the 18-mile mark. Interesting, Larsen thinks.
The second thing that strikes Larsen is how relentlessly hot it is. It’s a humid, punishing heat, the sun hammers down with an unsubtle brutality. It’s manageable until suddenly it isn’t. He knows hoping for a cloudy day is silly. There hasn’t been a cloud in August in Greece in maybe 800 years. The start times for the marathons are 6 p.m., which should provide some relief, but only so much. The Athens region is one of those places where the temperature sometimes rises in the early evening, even as the sun is on its way down.
There is a reason the city of Athens holds a marathon for its general population in November, rather than when the Olympic marathon will take place, in August. Every Olympic marathon brings special challenges. This one will bring very special challenges. It will bring arguably the most challenging conditions ever, because of the climate and because the course will be so difficult. And this is why he thinks, we can make this work.
For months he says almost nothing about the Athens Olympic marathon to Meb or Deena or anyone else he is working with. What’s the point? If anyone qualifies for it, then it becomes something to target. If no one does, there is no need ever to think about what it might take to run a mostly uphill marathon in the dead of summer under a sweltering sun. But then, early in 2004, both Meb and Deena get onto the podium in their Olympic Trials marathons and get to join the most elite field in long distance—they get the joy of trying to figure out and obsess over how to race for 26.2 miles in what will likely be miserable conditions.
Even better, Meb and Dan Browne and Alan Culpepper all beat the qualifying standard, saving the U.S. the embarrassment of getting only that single charity slot. Both Meb and Deena are at the top of the rankings in the 10,000 as well, and they will flirt with the idea of running both races through much of the year, even into the U.S. track and field trials in June. But the marathon is the priority. Let the speed demons fight for the 10K. The longer the race, the more that can go wrong for the favorites, especially in the conditions that Athens promises. The combination of hills and heat and the pressure cooker of an Olympic Games can serve as great equalizers. Who will be better on the day?
And so, having researched the course and studied the weather patterns, Bob and Joe get to work on their plan to get Meb and Deena on the world stage. Bob dives into research on how the body reacts under the stress of extreme heat, speaking to every expert he knows in the country. What he finds gives him hope, because heat appears to tax the body in similar ways to altitude. Stress is stress, he determines, and the lessons the body naturally learns about coping with the stress of running at altitude can be transferred to the experience of running in extreme heat, or even the combination of high heat and humidity at sea level.
At altitude, the body learns to cope with air that isn’t ideal and the challenges of dehydration, just as it has to in high temperatures. The additional red blood cells help with the oxygen. Also the lack of moisture in thinner air means dehydration occurs more quickly. But there is a benefit to being slightly dehydrated in training. To counteract the dearth of fluids, the body increases the volume of blood plasma. The increased plasma works to bring red blood cells to muscles that are under stress. So not only will the Mammoth crew have more red blood cells, but by training in a state of slight dehydration because of their environment, they are going to have more plasma to deliver those extra red blood cells to where they are most needed.
As naturally beneficial as this all might seem, Bob and Joe decide this isn’t enough. Running far in the kind of heat and humidity that the Olympics will bring is going to be a mental test that will be every bit the match of the physical one. They have a solution for this. As the temperatures rise during the spring and early summer in the Sierras, they tell Meb and Deena to begin bringing running tights and leggings to training, even a beanie for their heads, which is how most of the heat escapes from the body.
Discomfort is the name of the game, they explain. You are going to be uncomfortably hot from the first miles of this race. You need to become comfortable with that discomfort
, and the only way to prepare for that is to practice being uncomfortable. So when the rest of the Mammoth crew is stripping down to little more than shorts or sports bras for afternoon training runs, Meb and Deena are covered head to toe in clothing, learning what it means to run fast while being overheated and extremely uncomfortable. Finally there are the runs themselves. Having seen nearly every inch of the course, Bob and Joe scour the terrain around Mammoth and find a route that is eerily similar to the journey from Marathon to Athens—a tame first six miles followed by a 12-mile climb, and then an easier final stretch into the finish. One big difference—the route they find is at 7,000 feet rather than sea level. When Meb and Deena run in August, not only will they feel like they have been on this course before, they should feel like it is easier than the one they have trained on.
Bob and Joe also tell them to stay focused on the 10,000 and try to qualify for that event, too. Just because they have already punched their tickets to Athens in the marathon doesn’t mean they should let up on the speed work that helps in the final laps of the 10,000 and the final miles of the marathon, when they assure them they will be fighting for a medal. So they keep up with the strides, keep doing the 200 and 400 and 800 and two-mile repeats, sometimes, at least in Meb’s case, in the Shitbox, sometimes on the trail around Lake Mary.
And they do everything else, too. Running tights and long-sleeve shirts and extra sweats and hats in the heat. Ascents that last a dozen miles or more. Training runs in the middle of the day, when the sun is the highest and the hottest. They even start in with half-hour sessions in the overheated saunas. Anything that makes intense heat feel normal. Given how far they have come these past years in Mammoth, Meb and Deena at this point would likely run backward wearing leprechaun outfits if Joe and Bob told them it would improve their performance. There is simply nothing that builds confidence in a runner like results. What they are doing in Mammoth produces results.
In May, Meb and Culpepper and Abdirahman are part of a team that beats the Kenyans in the 10K Bolder Boulder race. Then in June, in the heat of Sacramento, both Meb and Deena run the 10,000 in the Olympic Trials as though they are playing with house money, which they are, since they have already qualified. There is no photo finish this time for Meb. He beats the field by 18 seconds. A future Mammoth training partner, Dan Browne, takes the third spot. Deena wins her race by nearly 50 seconds. The success produces the luxury of the ultimate distance runner’s dilemma. Which race should they run at the Olympics, or should they run both, like Frank Shorter did in 1972, when he took fifth in the 10,000 and won the marathon? Ultimately, they both decide to run only the marathon. It is the signature distance competition in any Games, especially this one, on the course that created the race. But the idea that both of them get to ponder this choice, it makes them feel like running royalty, and makes those forgettable finals in Sydney feel like they were a very long time ago.
* * *
—
After the trials, the usual routine for Olympic-bound runners is to enjoy the quick paydays that come with appearances at a handful of meets and races in Europe. Joe and Bob strongly advise against this. They tell Meb and Deena to play the long game here, to return to the mountains and keep that red blood cell level as high as possible until the final moment when they need to travel to Greece. They have read the research and done some of the work on their own. They know that red blood cell counts begin to drop within days of a return to sea level. The Olympic marathons won’t take place until late August. Seven weeks gallivanting around Europe could wreck everything they have built these past three years in Mammoth. They are both two-time Olympians and American record holders. Their Nike contracts are solid, given their limited stature internationally, in the low-mid six figures. If they reach the podium in Athens the money will be there, and far more than the few $10,000 or $15,000 checks that could be had across the pond. Meb and Deena listen and do what they are told. Of course they do.
They return to the mountains, to long training runs and speed workouts, at 5,000 and 7,000 and 9,000 feet in winter clothing in the middle of the summer, to getting pushed every morning and afternoon by the teammates who have been pushing them for three years. There are long joyous dinners with these people at a time of year when the sun feels like it never sets, people who have grown addicted to being a part of something far larger than themselves. They start playing around with different uniform designs. They tear holes in shirts and cut them off at the midriff. They try loose shorts and skimpy tight ones. They run with a cap and without one, caps with holes in the top, visors, or ones that don’t let any sun hit the scalp. The marathon is all about keeping the body cool. Often, the fastest runner is the one who manages to keep his body coolest for the longest time. Overheat and you are cooked, literally, for the rest of the race. This is why the event often favors smaller people. The smaller the person, the less surface there is and the less work the body has to do to keep itself cool.
Then they learn about the ice vests that are being manufactured and that will meet them in Athens. This is, well, different, Meb and Deena think. You’re damn right it is, Bob tells them. They will freeze them the night before the race and start wearing them during warm-ups. Nothing will keep the core cooler than wearing a garment packed with frozen fluid, Bob reasons. If this uncommonly hot Olympic marathon is going to turn on body temperature, then they are going to do everything possible to keep their core body temperature as low as possible for as long as possible. If Meb and Deena are cooler at the start than anyone else, then maybe, just maybe, it will take them ever-so-slightly longer to heat up. To Meb and Deena, this idea does seem a bit nutso. But maybe it will be just crazy enough to work.
* * *
—
During the first days of August, they travel to Crete, to a seaside resort with five pools and a few hundred quiet bungalows. It is one of the benefits of being a part of Team USA’s Olympic effort, a wealthy operation that spares few expenses for its athletes every four years. The intervening four years don’t pay much in the way of stipends, and a bad year will even cost you your health insurance if you drop low enough in the rankings, but the journey to the Olympics is a first-class operation. When the time comes to head to the Games, they won’t even bother with the Olympic Village, opting instead for the American College of Greece in Athens. Fewer people, less chance of picking up some unwanted virus.
But first Crete. Nearly every other country’s athletes land directly into the tumult of Athens. Noise, pollution, steamy breezeless nights, venues and an Olympic Village where workers are still finishing construction and painting and plumbing around the clock in the final days before the Games.
The Pilot Beach Resort in Georgioupolis is everything Athens is not. The only sound is the sea lapping against the beach. The Lefka Ori, also known as the White Mountains, are in the distance, with caves where the Greek gods were born. The landscape is dotted with small villages. There are also miles of quiet, hilly roads to put in the final miles in the last weeks before the race.
They are no longer at altitude, but that is by design. These last weeks are all about giving the body what it needs, which is rest. With so much work behind them, their bodies continue to work to become stronger, even without the endless miles high above sea level. For Meb and Deena, the time to taper has arrived, time to search for that delicate balance between dialing back and staying sharp, between rest and rust. Deena will run one more 100-mile week before her race on August 22. Meb will put in two before his race on the 29th. A century week may sound like a lot of pounding but it is a far cry from their peak of 145 earlier in the training. They run. They eat. They sleep. They bathe in ice water. They want for nothing.
One afternoon they fly to Athens to study the course. These are the numbers they have to accept. The starting line is 148 feet above sea level. Just before the 20-mile mark the course peaks at 771 feet. During the middle stretch the course gains about 50 feet every
mile, which means racing at marathon pace and climbing a nasty hill every five minutes or so.
Deena sees the course and comes away heartened. The hills aren’t quite as drastic as they looked in pictures, or how she imagined them, though she knows the heat of the day and the competition will make them feel larger than they look just then. When they get to the ancient Olympic Stadium where the race will end, Bob asks Meb what time he thinks he can run here. I think I can run 2:12, he says. Me, too, Bob says, and if you run that time you’re going to medal. Meb doesn’t disagree. In fact, Bob thinks Meb can win.
Bob has rarely been so sure that one of his athletes is going to have success. He’s known Meb for a decade. He’s good going uphill and going down and he’s good when it’s hot. It doesn’t really make sense. Meb has the 39th best time among the marathoners in the field. Paul Tergat of Kenya, the world record holder, has put up a time that is more than five minutes faster than Meb’s personal best. He’s a good stretch better than anyone else in the field. No matter, Larsen says. This is different. This is the Olympic marathon, in heat and on hills. A crazy fast time on the flat cool roads of Berlin is irrelevant.
Then, ten days before Meb’s race, the thing that no one thinks of happens. Greek islands are filled with unattended dogs that wander the countryside in packs without an owner anywhere in sight, if one even exists. There is little rhyme or reason to where they will turn up. It is impossible to know which ones pay little mind to humans and which ones are aggressive.
On an easy run with Culpepper and the former runner and coach Terrence Mahon, a German shepherd appears. This is a problem. Meb Keflezighi, the boy from the African village, who runs in the wooded mountains of the eastern Sierras, is terrified of animals. It is not a small dog, and he may sense this. Meb can’t imagine the dog not picking up on his fear. The shepherd goes right for him.
Running to the Edge Page 26