Kingmaker, talent scout or early bandwagon jumper?
None of the above, of course. I have achieved little in the way of personal success by any applicable measure, and have no noteworthy first-degree associations with ultra-high-achievers. But on a run earlier, I was considering the niches I have managed to stumble into over the years in the course of pursuing my pedestrian aims in the journalism world, if that's what writing about running even is or ever was.
If nothing else, in a number of instances, I was the first person to write an article in a "serious" publication about a then-unheralded athlete who later achieved greatness (or an already heralded athlete who far outstripped expectations). In the case of each athlete, today you can find a flurry of articles about all of these greats written by folks with far higher profiles than I'll ever enjoy. But I don't think you will find any that are older than mine that appeal in each instance to a national, or at least broader-than-local, audience.
In the fall of 2004, I had just moved to South Florida because my then-girlfriend (a different one from the one you're thinking of) had decided to return to her swamp of origin and re-enroll in school. I was a senior writer for Running Times (later eaten and erelong excreted by Runner's World) in those days, but was doing some work for the then-nascent paying online markets, like Florida's arm of the Milesplit.com network. I was also a few months removed in one direction from a lot of my lifetime running personal bests and a few months removed in the other direction from what I consider the last serious race of my life, but that's only interesting in retrospect, and not to you at all.
For fun and grocery money, once or twice a month, I interviewed or profiled different Florida high-schoolers, mainly distance runners, for the site over a period of about a year. One of those runners, among those I actually spoke with on the phone (normally, most of this stuff is handled by e-mail, though then things were a little different) was Jenny Simpson, then Jenny Barringer, who went to high school near Orlando. Jenny was heading into her senior year and coming off a third-place finish at Foot Locker Nationals the year before. It is easy to say this now, but at the time I was struck by how collected and cerebral she was for a 17-year-old, even allowing for the hyper-introspective and analytical bent that characterizes a lot of good distance runners.
In any event, although I wrote that Jenny had "a future running fans both within and outside of Florida, and perhaps even the U.S., look forward with great pleasure to following," that's just the kind of shit I always wrap up profiles of up-and-coming runners because it's the easiest damn bow-out there is. Anyway, Jenny has in fact gone on to grab some headlines, setting six NCAA records in one year (2009) and going on to collected a gold and two silvers at the World Championships (2011, 2013, 2017) and a bronze at the Olympics (2016) in the 1,500 meters. She seems destined to move to the 5,000 full-time soon, but in any event has established herself as one of the most successful American distance runners of all time, all while barely touching the turf or the roads as a pro. She and her husband Jason, a fair runner in his own right, have been known to patronize the local art gallery where Lize is a longtime manager.
Having released myself from Florida on my own recognizance in the spring of 2006 and spent time in Virginia and New York, for the first half-plus of 2008, I found myself back in the Sunshine State, this time in Sarasota. (Being untethered by many of the normative responsibilities of most adult Americans with college degrees, I "found myself" in lots of fun places over the years before settling in one for good, or so it seems.) I was still a senior writer for Running Times. By sheer happenstance, two of a threesome of Nike women athletes who were then being coached by John Cook were in town for three weeks in February to train under their coach's direct guidance. The one who was not in Sarasota, Shalane Flanagan, had yet to reach the pinnacle of her career, but was already a known, world-class quantity. The two who were in Sarasota, Shannon Rowbury and Erin Donohue, were virtual unknowns going into that year, but both had form aspirations on making it to the Beijing Olympics that year in the 1,500 meters. By this time, I had run my last serious race, although I didn't yet know it, but was training to run the Sarasota Marathon with a buddy and logging great mileage in the profligate sunshine, if nothing else.
On a six-mile tempo run on Siesta Key in February 2008. Erin's the one with the abs visible from Mars.
Photo courtesy of Rob Lotwis (Nike).
That July, after the story I wrote about the three centering on training alongside Shannon and Erin was published, I became quite amped up before a TV set in a Florida living room while watching the two of them took the top two slots in the 2008 Olympic Trials 1,500 meters, launching what would be an injury-plagued career at the top level for Erin but an astonishing one for Shannon, who had since set a variety of American records and collected numerous other international accolades. She is now returning in style from having a baby last year. Notably, her rivalry with Simpson is, or was, no doubt among the most intense between U.S. distance rivals in history, in some ways mirroring (albeit with a different vibe) that of Favor-Hamilton and Jacobs throughout the 1990s.
Then, in the summer of 2011, I found myself in Boulder, Colorado (and still do, though I've been here "permanently" just since 2013). Having been in town for a year or so, I had taken particular notice of the always-outstanding University of Colorado distance programs. That year, a runner who still had NCAA eligibility, Colorado native Emma Coburn, had won both the collegiate and open (USATF) women's 3,000-meter steeplechase titles and would be representing the United States at the Wold Championships in South Korea later that summer. I got in touch with her coach (who was, not quite incidentally, headed to that same global track meet in the same event) and we chatted on the phone. The result is here.
I just thought it was great that someone from the U.S. had managed to pull off an NCAA-USATF double victory in a year other than her final year of eligibility, not that it's common for any runner to accomplish the feat. That she was not a top recruit in high school yet was on her way to represent the U.S. as a national steeplechase champion at age 20 seemed significant, perhaps unique. Perhaps it was, since, as you ought to know, Emma has gone on to reach the pinnacle of her chosen discipline, becoming a world champ in 2017 on the heels of her Olympic bronze the year before.
Within a few months of the interview appearing, I saw someone who looked a lot like her on the sidelines of the Rocky Mountain Shootout, at the time C.U.'s sole home cross-country meet every year (it's since been scrapped) and a traditional gathering place for local joggers from the up-and-coming to the long-burned-out to exchange gossip and, when they can get away with it, body fluids. This made sense because Emma was sitting out the early part of her past cross-country season for the Buffs since her "spring" track season had reached to August, on another continent. The person I had in fact spotted, however, was her mom. Just like in one of those awful "Sweet Valley High" novels from the 1980s, Emma and her mother could have been sisters. In the ensuing years, I used to run into Emma on a disproportionate number of my visits to the Boulder Whole Foods, but I quit going there regularly almost three years ago and haven't been back more than a tiny handful of times since sobering up. I sometimes see her on the trails or at the university track, but I am a less frequent visitor to formal running environments nowadays. (Emma, I have to point out, is a supernaturally humble and appreciative person when you account for the fact that in almost every stereotypical way, she started life on third base, with the other team's pitcher crippled by a combination of a separated shoulder and an overdose of MDMA. Imagine a better-looking version of Ivanka Trump with three times Ivanka's brainpower and a hundredfold the First Daughter's self-awareness, and you'd have Emma. Sort of.
But all that's beyond the scope of this project, which is to boast of having swung goonishly from the colletive teat of greatness in a way no one could possibly give a shit about. Yet the fact remains: All told, the five women I have mentioned here have accounted for almost all of the Olympic and World Champs medals U.S. women have claimed in this century. Eight of the eleven gold, silver and bronze medals claimed at global track championships since 2001 in the distance events (I don't count the 800 meters) are owned by Simpson (4), Coburn (2) and Rowbury and Flanagan (1 each). I hardly count myself with getting Shalane's name out there, and in reality I don't credit myself with shit. But at the time -- at least in the case of the first two stories -- we didn't have Twitter and Instagram and Facebook and such tales and conversations were a little harder to find.
I do think it's funny that the whims of geography alone put me on the hunt for any of these stories or interviews -- had I not been in South Florida, West Florida and Colorado when all of these stories reared their heads (and I could give myself credit for chasing these stories down, but fuckers, please). I have not made the most of the various places I have called home over the years, oh no, but I have at least managed to offer positive PR to some of the local perambulators.
On a personal note, as if this shit isn't overbearingly personal already, this is now the one place I'll be posting personal updates. My Facebook accounts (yes, even the cutesy Rosie one) are going kaput. The ultimate trigger is growing tired of the ads, or more to the point, the fact that they so surgically target what my supposed needs are based on things I've shared of my own volition. That's just one of a host of reasons I could offer, but it's all for now.