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Archive for March, 2010

I took up speed skating when I moved to Calgary in the fall of 1989, a year and a half after the ’88 Olympics.  I was inspired by the speed skating I had watched on television and as you can imagine it was a thrill to walk into the Oval for the first time in Calgary and actually see some of the people I had watched win medals earlier the year before.  Bonnie Blair (now Cruikshank) was one of those people.

In terms of a resume, it doesn’t get much better than hers.  There have been a few who have won more medals at a single Olympics or perhaps over a career, but to win an Olympic event for three consecutive Games is an extremely rare accomplishment.  Bonnie was kind enough to let me interview her for Sport At Its Best and I was able to speak to two of her former teammates as well.  It’s clear she was not just a champion but someone who had an effect on the people around her.  Part of that comes from being successful but it also has to do with accepting the reality of being a leader and role model.  Today’s post is the first of four parts and focusses on team.

One of the topics that I like to bring up with athletes who have succeeded at the highest level is their competitive philosophy; how they see their competition, how they see their teammates.  My memory of the U.S. team when they trained in Calgary was that they worked together.  They really seemed to be a team in the truest sense despite the fact that speed skating is an individual sport and your teammates are also your competition.  I asked her about that.

“Even though we are an individual sport, a very big part of it was we were a team.  We traveled together all the time, sometimes under the same roof a good seven months out of the year, so [we had] great friendships, great teammates where we would feed off of each other.”

…you’re helping your team mates be the best that they can be and then when they do have great races and think maybe did you play a little part in it?  That to me is thrilling and exciting too.

“I know I wouldn’t have been the skater I was had I not had the teammates like my husband [Dave Cruikshank], Dan Jansen, Nick Thometz, Dave Bestemen.  [I had] those guys to really rely on for part of my training and helping me to be able to go speeds I wouldn’t be able to go on my own.  That to me was huge.  And part two was to do my part to help others.  You take Moira (D’Andrea) Marshall for instance (former teammate), her starts weren’t her strong suit so if I could be of help to her on some things and let her follow me on some of the shorter exertions to get her up to speed better, those types of things where you’re helping your team mates be the best that they can be and then when they do have great races and think maybe did you play a little part in it?  That to me is thrilling and exciting too.  Even though we were individuals we were still very much a team and have had great friendships that have lasted a lifetime.”

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Great Examples…

Here’s one sent in from Brent Langbakk who writes a blog about orienteering (http://langbakk.wordpress.com/).  The following is an exert from Ultimate Orienteering (http://www.ultimate-orienteering.com/?p=1819) about the relay event in last year’s World Championships.  I found it really interesting how they handed the medals to the competitors at the end rather than placing them around their necks.  Thanks to Brent for sending in this great example of sportsmanship.

But then something misterious happened – the specators following the live GPS on their computer could witness the strange beahaviour of leading ‘pack’s GPS dots’ – they stopped.  Bad reception?  Got lost?  No!  Soon Nodberg’s dot started moving towards the road and the finish area.  Something happened and it wasn’t a common mistake by four World’s leading orienteers.  Martin Johansson of Sweden was in the lead the moment he got serious injury – a long dry branch into his leg.  ”Martin is a tough guy, but when he cries for help like that it does mean that something serious has happened” – told Thierry later on.  All three – Thierry Guergiou, Anders Nordberg and Michal Smola – gave up their runs to help Martin.  “Martin told us to continue at first, but we saw the dry stick that went  straight into the thigh and realized the seriousness of the situation” – says Anders Nordberg.  Thierry immediately took off his shirt to bandage the heavy bleeding injury, while Anders sprinted towards the finish area to seek for help.  Michal Smola and Thierry Gueorgiou stayed with Martin and then carried him towards the nearest road…

The medals for the men relay were awarded in hands of the athletes instead of being hung on the neck.  ”Fair play – we have seen the ultimate expression of it today.  Three athletes sacrificed their own runs and medal possibilities for their nations by attending to an injured fellow competitor.   We must acknowledge this supreme example of sportsmanship.  We express our sincere gratitude.  Martin Johansson is in the circumstances well and will hopefully recover soon” – were the words of the president of the international orienteering federation Åke Jakobson just before the prize-giving ceremony.  The statement was followed by prolonged applause for Michal Smola, Anders Nordberg and Thierry Gueorgiou.  Martin Johansson is reported to be in good condition in hospital, where he will have to stay for a few days to recover.

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We’ve been getting some really positive comments about the blog recently from teachers, both within the comments sections as well as on the facebook fan page.  It had always been a goal of ours here to try to promote the blog through school boards because of the importance of this message for youth and that’s something that we’ll begin trying to do a bit more systematically here in the near future.  But to that end, I did want to mention a few things.  First, if you are a teacher and you see the value in this message, it would be very much appreciated if you would consider passing on a link to your own school board recommending it as a source of information – and not just for coaches and physical education teachers but for anyone interested in ethics and/or wellness.

I also wanted to say that in coming up with the original concept for this site, we planned on making Olympic sport a big part of it largely because of the impact of hearing from really successful athletes, perhaps someone you’ve even watched on television.  However, if you refer to the Great Examples section, there are some really powerful and really meaningful stories coming from all ages and all levels of ability.  With that in mind I would like to invite anyone who has a story to tell about character, sportsmanship, positive attitude, perspective, the challenge or the value of sport, please e-mail us at sportatitsbest@shaw.ca.  If it’s a fit with the Sport At Its Best philosophy, we’d love to hear from you.

Thanks very much for the support and all the comments we’ve had so far.  Keep them coming!

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I don’t want to belabour this point because this blog has always been about the positive, but not showing the Paralympics in prime time is a missed opportunity for the Paralympics, the broadcasters and the public.

In preparation for being an analyst for skeleton at the Olympics I heard the term “NBC model” used on a number of occasions.  What I understood that to mean was that the broadcasters would portray the human side of the event and not just show the competition itself.  There would be biographies of athletes with all the adversity and drama and pressure that athletes go through to try to win on the biggest stage.  When I think about the “NBC model”, I think about the Hawaii Ironman triathlon.  I’m a bit of a sports junkie so I’m interested to see the winners of the various divisions but the real appeal, and quite frankly why NBC was nominated for 3 Emmy’s last year for the broadcast, are the people who don’t win the overall titles.  People such as the woman with two prosthetic legs who doesn’t even start the marathon until it starts getting dark that night!  People like her show an immense amount of determination in the face of incredible physical challenges.  More than once I’ve happened upon the broadcast on a lazy Sunday afternoon when I didn’t have the strength to drag my butt of the coach!  Talk about a wake-up call.  Talk about powerful television – certainly the Paralympics could have the same mass appeal.

Of all the great athletes that I’ve had the good fortune of meeting and training beside over the years in a city that is the home base to so many national teams and champion athletes, if I had to make a list of the most incredible athletes that I’ve ever seen (not most inspirational but most talented), two of the top five would be Paralympians.

The other aspect of course is that there are some incredible athletes who compete at the Paralympics that are very worthy of our attention and admiration – every bit as much as their Olympic counterparts.  In fact, of all the great athletes that I’ve had the good fortune of meeting and training beside over the years in a city that is the home base to so many national teams and champion athletes, if I had to make a list of the most incredible athletes that I’ve ever seen (not most inspirational but most talented), two of the top five would be Paralympians.

The two I’m referring to are Patrick Anderson and Jeff Adams.  Patrick Anderson is widely considered to be the best wheelchair basketball player in the World but I’ll leave it at that for now.  I’ll have more to say about him in the near future as he has agreed to be a guest writer for this site which I am very excited about.

Jeff Adams, aside from being an extremely well-decorated wheelchair track racer actually climbed the CN Tower a few years ago in his wheelchair.  Yes, take a minute to digest that.  Actually, take a minute and google it.  See some pictures of how he lifted himself and the chair strapped to his waist repeatedly for over seven hours to climb the 1776 steps.  That’s almost superhuman if you ask me and hopefully for some it paints Paralympic sport in a new light.

Brian McKeever’s selection to the Canadian Olympic team is an awe-inspiring achievement.  Another one worth our attention is the fact that Canadian sledge hockey player Brad Bowden has actually been a Paralympic champion in two sports at the same time (Basketball in Athens, 2004; Sledge Hockey in Torino, 2006).  That’s getting into Clara Hughes territory and we should celebrate it.  We should at very least be aware of it!

Paralympians aren’t as well known as Olympians and certainly not as well known as professional athletes but that has a lot to do with marketing, television contracts, advertising dollars and the like – not ability.  They deserve our attention and our respect and what they offer in return is inspiration.

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For years, as muscular dystrophy claimed more and more of my arms and legs, I didn’t understand what my purpose was. I knew only that what I had to do, I had to do fast, while my body could still handle it. I wanted to do something great, and for years I thought it was to represent Canada as a Paralympian. To reach that goal, I competed in dozens of races against hundreds of people. I wore the Maple Leaf with pride when I won, with sportsmanship when I lost, and when my chair was twisted out of shape under several other racers in Japan, I wore it as a badge of honour.

In Holland in 2006 at the World Championships I received the results of yet another re-classification. Team Canada’s head coaches would appeal the decision twice and after the second time I agreed that the decision was not likely to change and the matter was dropped.  I was now in the category with the big guns; faster, leaner, stronger, meaner. In a way I felt complemented. Everyone close to me knew there was no way I could hold up in a race with those old hats.  I would be left in the dust.  Ultimately I wouldn’t even get the chance – the Canadian roster was full in my new category and I was benched.  And so ends my Paralympic dream.

Two years later I realized I had a second dream. I spent time away from the track to contemplate a Canadian figure I have always admired: Terry Fox, a master of persistence. Driven until the day he died.  Whenever he was asked what kept him going on his quest to conquer cancer he would say, “I would just run to next telephone poll”.

I wore the Maple Leaf with pride when I won, with sportsmanship when I lost, and when my chair was twisted out of shape under several other racers in Japan, I wore it as a badge of honour.

He was a great inspiration to me.  So I am taking a moment at this time in my life to rebirth a childhood dream and accept a new challenge. In the spring of 2010, I will begin the journey across Canada in a wheelchair. I will take everything that has helped me, all the research I have done and continue to do, my experiences and life lessons, the music I wish to share and the love I have received thus far in my life and give it all back, so people out there suffering or clinging to an idea of themselves, trapped in a prison of their own design, will know that there is a better way.

I wish to inspire at least one person, to help them see their life as a gift and to give that gift to the world unabashed.  I will raise truth and awareness around Muscular Dystrophy; a name and a challenge that by embracing, I become free of.

In the spirit of Terry Fox and in the face of a wasting disease,

while I still can…

I will do more than I have ever done.

Please visit www.marathonoffreedom.com

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I’ve known Sonny Davis for over 10 years now and have always been impressed by him both personally and physically.  When I say physically, I mean both as an athlete and as an accomplished musician.  I thought this would be a perfect article to post during the Paralympics because Sonny for many years dedicated himself to trying to become a Paralympian.  I think it’s an illuminating article in terms of how hard it is to become a Paralympian and in terms of one of the challenges of Parlympic sport which is the classification of athletes.  I think it also hits on one of the themes of this blog which is why so many of us are still motivated to try new things and to try to get better at whatever it is we do – the challenge.  Remember this is only part 1 and I will post part 2 on Wednesday and if you want to read Sonny’s story in its entirety, visit www.marathonoffreedom.com.  Enjoy the article.

*****

Greetings. I go by Sonny Davis. A few years ago it was a personal dream of mine to become a Paralympian. At age 5 doctors diagnosed me with a neural muscular disorder called Charcot Marie Tooth disease, which is a form of Muscular Dystrophy. There is a degeneration of muscle and nerve present in my legs and my hands. I live a “walk and roll” lifestyle. Some days I feel good to walk and others I’ll take to the chair ergo: “Sonny and Chair”

In sport, due to my condition, classification has always been a grey area for me. During my competitive years I never once met an athlete with Muscular Dystrophy. As far as my coach and I knew, I was the only one. This was a blessing and a curse, for my abilities far outweighed my disabilities.  I have pushed wheelchair all my life. In spite of wasting and atrophy in my forearms and hands, I have developed great upper body strength and I can sit up soldier straight in a race chair. This is an important detail when classifying disabled athletes.

People are confused when they see me rolling in a chair one day and the next I’m up and walking with a cane. “It’s a miracle!” But to someone who is classifying me as an athlete and gauging my current stamina to my projected strength, this was, I imagine, a complete headache.  Wheelchair athletics is divided into classes of skill and ability, like boxing is divided into weight classes. I raced in a variety of classes throughout my racing career. If I race in too high a class, I start off with the leaders, but my weakness for sprinting kicks in and I quickly fall behind. Too low a class, and I don’t feel particularly sportsmanlike. After a couple of years’ racing experience, my coach and I knew exactly where I’d be most competitive. Any hopes of making it to the Beijing Paralympics would solely depend on being cleared for that class by the qualifying judges.

Japan was my very first marathon. The competition was unbelievable. Athletes from all over the globe showed up to this world-renowned event and the good news was that I was finally given the classification I so desired to achieve. Now I just had to put my head down, do my best and finish the race.

I knew the finish line wasn’t far. The volume of the crowd peaked as I entered the stadium. Only three racers in my class were in front of me now. They worked together and took turns drafting each other the whole way. I had successfully pursued them and was about to receive the thrill of victory. The track was fast and I was determined to finish strong. Four hundred meters to go, feeling stronger than ever, I was now gaining speed to the right of the trio; I would overtake them on the first turn, or so I thought.

Suddenly, my front wheel jerked sharply to the side steering me right into the leader of the trio. Before I knew it we were all crashing and tumbling over one another. We must have looked like a pile of dying transformers.  Damage sustained: right tire and fender bent totally out of shape, and just like that, it was over…but I wouldn’t accept that. I had come this far, the only thing left to do was push. I could hear the swell of the crowd, and could feel that some of those cheers were for me.

We must have looked like a pile of dying transformers.

Athletes zoomed by me, finishing with ease and finesse. I had lost my speed, my rank, even the chair I was sitting in but not my determination. The finish line wasn’t beyond me, it wasn’t out of reach. With every push, I was a few feet closer. I could just hear the crowd yelling “GO! KEEP GOING!”

I accepted my fate, and the fact that thousands of eyes just saw me transcend embarrassment. But my poor, damaged chair had got me this far, I would let it end the race with dignity… or maybe it was my own dignity at stake. Then I realize I’m not alone, I am joined by a fellow Canadian, Dana Halvorson. He generously matched my pace, and for the last 50 meters, we rode side by side. Head held high, I crossed the finish line with my countryman.

End of Part 1.

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These friends have not only been a part of the good times, they have also been there through the bad times.  Last year when I detached my ribs, I can remember being pulled from my sled at the bottom of the track after a run while a German brakeman and one of my rival American pilots moved my sled off the ice and loaded it onto a truck for me.  Two years ago in Germany when my friend Shauna on the US team crashed and badly injured herself and her brakeman at World Championships (she was sitting fourth, I was fifth), I took her my trophy filled with chocolate and left it in her hotel room so they had something to cheer them up when they returned from the hospital.  That same weekend in 2008, I was moping around after another fourth place finish and the Americans were healing their wounds.  To cheer us up, the German team that won spent two days taking us sightseeing and out for delicious local food around Dresden. There is a mutual respect for the amount of work it takes to survive in our sport and a mutual sympathy for the pain that all of us have suffered because of the dangers of bobsledding.

Now, two of my closest friends are also my archrivals.  During the winter we fight head-to-head every single race.  At the Olympics in Torino they stood on the podium and received silver medals while I stood and watched.  And yet somehow, come springtime, we can put all results and competitions aside and spend eight days together on a sailboat in Antigua.  After all, I guess it is not their fault they are not Canadian.

Being a part of this sport has taught me the meaning of the phrase “may the best man win.”  It has taught me to be gracious in both victory and defeat.  It has taught me that there is so much more to sport than winning and losing.

Being a part of this sport has taught me the meaning of the phrase “may the best man win.”  It has taught me to be gracious in both victory and defeat.  It has taught me that there is so much more to sport than winning and losing.  ”The Enemy” has given me something to fight for, made me a better bobsledder, kept me motivated, and pushed me harder than I thought I could go.  The truth is, we have all had a turn standing on the podium with the bright colours of our nations flag waving in the background.  Some will smile proudly, some will wipe tears from their eyes but everyone offers congratulations and condolences.  Maybe it is because we respect one another’s courage and sacrifices or maybe it is simply because we have so much in common that every weekend when I suit up for battle I can sincerely wish “the Enemy” well, knowing that in the end the best team will win. When the competition is over and the dust has settled, we put down our sleds, or skis or skates.  We look back and smile at all of the wonderful memories and the stories that we will be telling for the rest of our lives.

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I’ve always been a fan of the saying “may the best man (or woman) win”.  It describes a competitive environment that at the end of my career looking back, I’m absolutely grateful to have been a part of (see 2. Emulating Gregor Staehli http://sportatitsbest.com/2009/11/19/2-emulating-gregor-staehli/).  If everyone tries their best and everyone has a great performance then both winning and losing brings more satisfaction than it otherwise would have.  How can you feel really bad losing if you had your best performance?  And maybe more to the point, winning is also enhanced because it means more – you won because you earned it, and you beat the competition when they had their best performance.  The best competitors want their competition to be at their best so that when they win it’s something really to be proud of.

Someone that I know feels the same way is Helen Upperton.  With her permission, here is an exert from Helen’s blog, written last fall before winning an Olympic silver medal with her teammate Shelley-Ann Brown in women’s bobsleigh at the Vancouver 2010 Olympics.

*****

Seven years ago when I first starting competing in bobsleigh I remember thinking it would be impossible to be-friend “the enemy.” How could anyone let friendship interfere with them suiting up for battle and trying to win at all costs? After all, I am a very competitive person. It turns out, I was wrong.

Over the last seven years of competing in bobsleigh, I have unintentionally acquired friends from around the globe.  I guess it was inevitable considering we spend four months [every year] traveling around the world, spending the majority of our days in very small mountain villages with little going on.

There are so many wonderful memories I have thanks to all of these international bobsledders.  One of my favorites came last December in Cesana, Italy.  We were snowed in for three days due to a massive blizzard.  Even the roads up and down the mountains were closed because of avalanches.  So on the 3rd day when we finally heard the news that the race was cancelled, in order to get out of the hotel for a few hours, we organized “International Snow Battle 2008.”  It was epic.  The rules were that there were no rules.  Nation against nation, team jackets mandatory, if only to ensure we were lobbing snowballs at the Russians or British and not one of our own!

How could anyone let friendship interfere with them suiting up for battle and trying to win at all costs? After all, I am a very competitive person. It turns out, I was wrong.

Another one of my favorite memories was a few years ago, before our 2007 World Championships in St. Moritz.  Our women’s team remained in Austria with the American women for some physical training.  We decided one evening to all go for pizza together in Innsbruck.  We sat in the pizza parlor for a few hours, eating good food and sharing good stories.  The problem was that in those few hours, inches of snow had fallen and the mountain pass back up to our hotel had become almost impossible to negotiate.  We made it roughly 1/3 of the way up the mountain before realizing that our non-winter tires were just not going to cut it.  Also, after realizing that our coaches had neglected to leave us winter chains for our tires, there was only one choice left.  Everyone get out and push! There were eight girls (Canadians and Americans) and our coach Quin.  I was driving, or to be more accurate, I was trying to stop the van from sliding off the cliff.  In the meantime, all of my teammates, the American girls and Quin pushed for a few meters, jumped into the moving van while it had some momentum and then jumped out to push again before we slid to a stop.  More than 30 minutes later, when we finally reached the hotel, the girls collapsed in the lobby, sore, tired and soaking wet whilst our coach Quin threw up in some Austrian guy’s front yard.  We still tease him to this day.

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It’s pretty easy to watch the Olympics and get caught up in all the excitement – and so we should!  It’s a time of celebration and recognition of the world’s best.  There are so many incredible stories of athletes that may or may not be from your home country, that may or may not have been expected to do well, and that may or may not be winners of Olympic medals.

In my career I was lucky enough to compete at two Olympics, one in which I achieved my life-long dream to win a medal and one in which I got the motivation I needed to achieve that dream.  The Vancouver Olympics for me brought back some memories of Salt Lake City but probably not in the way you’d think.  I finished 10th in my event in 2002 and looking back now, I’m reasonably pleased with that performance when put in to the context of where I was in my career, but at the time it was somewhat less than I had hoped for.  In fact, for a while I was really down about it.

As it turned out, that experience became a very powerful motivation for me in my athletic career and therefore a valuable part of the journey.  At the same time I can remember what it felt like and I know there are athletes feeling that same pit in the stomach now having just returned from Vancouver or Whistler.  These athletes have dedicated years and years of their lives for one moment and the possibility of having a bad day at the worst possible time is a very harsh reality of Olympic sport.

Not performing up to your own expectations is one thing, not even getting your chance is another.  The last couple of days have been pretty tough on Brian McKeever.  After a long and drawn out selection process it looked like Brian would actually do what no winter athlete had done before which is to represent their nation in both the Olympic and Paralympic Games.  But as we saw in the men’s 50 kilometer cross-country ski race, the last event of the Winter Olympic program, Brian’s coach ultimately decided to go with four of his teammates who admittedly had been having all-time Canadian best performances at these Games.

Like so many people, I’m a huge fan of Brian’s, as an athlete but maybe even more so as a person.  And not surprisingly in the hours leading up to the race I had heard a lot of very heart-felt sentiment supporting Brian, some going so far as to say that the decision was wrong and should have been reversed.  But what we have to remember is what was so extraordinary about this story.  Brian, a legally blind skier with a condition that leaves him with only peripheral vision, had legitimately earned a spot.  This was never a story about giving a blind guy a break and to have done so would change what was truly exciting about it in the first place.

Amateur sport is neither a charity nor a popularity contest.  Every one of the athletes competing at the Olympics were there for good reason and the men’s cross-country team is one of the real bright spots for Canada for future winter Games.  It’s the coach’s job to enter the best team in each event and if he believes it should be others instead of Brian then it’s a real shame but who are we to question it?  I’m sure Brian is heartbroken but he’d also be the first to tell you he neither needs nor expects any special treatment.

I’ve come across more than a few writers talking about how some of the great stories of these Games were found off the podium and for me seeing Brian interviewed in the wake of that decision was an extremely powerful moment.  It was an absolutely heartbreaking decision for many people and for none more so than Brian himself but in that moment when anyone in his situation would be filled with hurt and resentment, struggling to understand what had happened, Brian McKeever showed and immense amount of character.  He said he definitely respected the decision and acknowledged that the other guys had been racing extremely well.  And then he talked about coming to the Olympics to have great performances.  He didn’t say it in as many words but Brian McKeever doesn’t rely on favours – he has earned everything he has achieved.  You don’t win NorAm races or Paralympic medals unless you are, quite simply, very good at what you do.

He didn’t say it in as many words but Brian McKeever doesn’t rely on favours – he has earned everything he has achieved.  You don’t win NorAm races or Paralympic medals unless you are, quite simply, very good at what you do.

When the commentator asked him if he thought they could have informed him earlier, giving him a chance to place blame or show his anger, he wouldn’t bite.  Instead he talked about the Paralympic Games and how he’d be in the thick of some very important races in only a few weeks and how he was planning on being at his best.  It struck me then that Brian was doing again what he had done all his life – having no time for self-pity.  Although I’ve never met his Dad, I understand that he’s not one to have a son moping around the house for any reason, let alone a degenerative eye condition that he himself shares.  It is a character trait that undoubtedly served Brian well as an athlete.  It was a terrible situation he found himself in a few days ago but it’s only in our most challenging moments that we really show what we’re made of – and Brian did just that.

We’ll be watching on the 15th.  Go Brian!

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