Once you see the end game, though, you can develop a plan to get there.
While many of my own goals have been on the track, the dreams and goals you have for your life may happen in other arenas. Maybe you want to start a band. Perhaps there’s a dream job you’d love to do when you’re older. Maybe you want to create and sell your artwork. Or you might want to get a graduate degree. When you can see where you eventually want to be—crossing a finish line, on stage at Madison Square Garden, counseling foster children, being featured in a prominent art gallery, or teaching undergrads—you can craft a plan to get there.
First, though, you need to see it.
Shari’s Dream
Because my family has been such a huge support to me throughout my athletic career, and because my sister Shari has been my biggest fan, some people have wondered whether she got lost in my shadow.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
Shari never wanted to be like me. She always had her own identity, and she was passionate about finding her own thing.
After a few semesters in college, Shari realized that a four-year degree might not be the path to reach her goals. She was passionate about hair and wanted to attend cosmetology school. Traditional education, however, was a really big deal in our family. It’s why my parents had wanted us to move to America in the first place: we’d have opportunities to attend great schools and win meaningful scholarships. So when Shari first told our parents she wanted to go to cosmetology school, they resisted. They wanted her to stay in college.
Never one to stay silent, I went to bat for my best friend at the dinner table one evening after I’d gone pro.
“But I left school early,” I reminded our mom and dad.
“But that’s—” my dad began, prepared to say how my situation was different.
I cut him off. “No, it’s not different. If she has found something she loves, the way I love running, why shouldn’t she have the same opportunity to pursue her passion?”
It took more than one dinner to convince them, but eventually our folks conceded that we were right.
If I can use the cliché, Shari went for her gold.
She sought out individuals who were doing celebrity hair, or those who’d started their own businesses, and built relationships with them to learn whatever they could teach her. She earned her cosmetology license. She took classes all over the country to gain expertise in her craft. She took cutting classes in New Orleans. She attended coloring classes in Los Angeles. She pursued excellence with a passion. Though I don’t think she had a vision board, she had a picture in her mind of that finish line: owning and operating a successful salon. And because she could see the finish line, she crafted and executed the plan that would help her get there. Today, Shari owns a salon.
I am so proud of my sister. And I want you to hear that achieving your goals begins with being able to see them and enacting a plan to get there.
Seeing the Finish Line
Even though I didn’t have a vision board in high school, I can look back now at the ways I envisioned my goals and implemented plans to reach them.
When I was in middle school, I knew I wanted to win at the county championships. So I wrote, “Win the 100 at County Championships” on a notecard and taped it to my mirror. Though I didn’t know it at the time, experts say that posting a goal in place where you can see it regularly increases the odds of achieving it.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve also recorded my goals in a journal.
Initially, I’d choose a cute one from the local Christian bookstore. I’d usually get soft padded ones with inspirational messages on the cover and the inside pages. Under the Scriptures at the top of the page, I’d write about my day, what was happening in my family, my classes, my meets, as well as my thoughts. In my journal, I had a friend on the journey. In fact, when I finally met my own personal goal in high school for the 400, I dished to my journal, “You won’t believe it! I ran the 400 in 50.6!” I almost expected applause from my paper companion!
Eventually my cousin Shelley began buying me a journal every year for Christmas. One of those journals, by a black artist, read, “Be Your Own Boss.” Shelley had inscribed it, “Here’s to you fulfilling all your dreams. Love you, Shelz.”
Beyond the typical pages where I wrote about what I did during the day, or what boy I was crushing on, I’d also chronicle my workouts. Since I’d do the same routine every Monday, Tuesday, etc., I’d write down my times, noting if I was slower or faster than the previous week. I’d also note if the workout felt easier or more difficult. That process—reviewing where I’d been, noticing where I was, and planning for where I’d be in the future—was a great way to hold myself accountable to reaching the goals I’d taped on my mirror.
Hayward Field
When I was seventeen, I reached my goal of setting a new Florida state record when I ran the 400 for my high school in 52.51.
That night, I wrote in my journal, “The next record to break is the national record of 50.74.” In fat Sharpie marker, I wrote “50.73” on an index card and carefully taped it to my mirror.
Several weeks later, I had the rare opportunity of attending the highly select Prefontaine Classic meet. This meet held every spring in Eugene, Oregon, featured the top track and field athletes from all over the world. A high school athlete was invited to the event only every five years or so, and that year—as the person who’d run the fastest girls’ 400 time in the nation—I was the only one to receive an invitation.
My dad and I flew to Eugene together, and it was so great to have him there for support. Since grade school, my dad had been filming each of my races so that we could review them the evening of the meet. We’d watch each race six or seven times. The first several times he’d point out everything I was doing right: my start, my posture, my stride, my arms. Then, eventually, we’d search for ways I could improve my race to cut my time. Because the Prefontaine was being broadcasted by ESPN2, it was the first meet that my dad didn’t have to film!
Competing in the Prefontaine was huge for me. It was a meet I’d dreamed of competing in after college, and I’d made it there as a teenager. As I was warming up, I realized I was running with amazing athletes like Gail Devers, Stacy Dragila, and Marion Jones.
No pressure, right?
In that pack of world-class professional runners, I wasn’t predicted to do any better than finish last. I understood that. But in my heart of hearts, I secretly wanted to dazzle the world. What kept me grounded and motivated to do my best was keeping my eye on the national junior record—50.74—then held by Monique Henderson. The same Monique I’d go on to share gold with in Beijing!
In the end, I missed the national junior record. But I did surprise everyone with a second-place finish. What felt absurd—particularly for a Jamaican who’d been raised to believe that second place was first loser!—was that the announcer called me back on the track after the finish to run a victory lap. The crowd at Hayward Field, some of the most knowledgeable and appreciative track fans in the world, stood and applauded for me for finishing second! Only in America.
As my dad and I flew back to Miami, I knew that the national high school record of 50.74 would be waiting for me.
It was on my bedroom mirror.
Eyes on the Prize
In high school, AP Calculus was kicking my rear. There was this really nice, smart kid in my class named Vic. He and I had several honor and AP classes together and I decided, “If Vic can get an A, then I can get an A.” Yes, I had a bit of a competitive streak! Vic was my friend and keeping up with him inspired me to do my best. Calculus, though, was harder for me than a sprint.
Whether you’re trailing in the 4x400 on the international stage or trailing in Calc, sometimes you’ve just got to make up your mind that you’re going to win.
Vic was my competition, but—like DeeDee Trotter or Natasha Hastings, American teammates I competed against to become my best—he was also a teammate. So after c
lass each day, during our lunch hour, Vic and I would go over any of the concepts I didn’t understand. Isn’t that cool?
Over the years I’ve tried to be that kind of a teammate to others—one who helps them see their goals and reach them.
In addition to my goal to get a 4.0 grade point average, and be invited to join the National Honor Society, I was still working my plan to become the runner who would break the national record.
In order to improve my core strength, I started doing one thousand sit-ups every day. The full routine took about an hour, so I carved out windows of time throughout the day to get in one hundred or two hundred sit-ups so I had completed my one thousand before bedtime. Most often I’d knock them out at track practice or later at home. My dad was still playing soccer for a minor league team in Florida, and when he was home he’d often do my workouts with me while my mom counted for us.
One day my Economics teacher, Mr. Williams, was late for class. When he arrived, I was in the back of the class, on my back on the floor, doing as many sit-ups as I could before class.
“Sanya,” he asked, “what are you doing?”
“I told you,” I explained, “I’m trying to get ahead. Strengthening my core. Doing a thousand sit-ups a day.”
“Really?” he queried. Then, wondering to himself if I’d get the same value and impact from doing five hundred sit-ups as I would from doing one thousand, he asked, “But isn’t there a point of diminishing return?”
Econ teacher reasoning.
But when it came to my training, I believed I benefitted as much from my commitment to doing more than everyone else as I did from the exercise.
I stayed with one thousand.
Keep Your Eyes Open
Are you able to see the finish line?
If you can see your own finish line, find a way to keep it before your eyes. Maybe you’ll choose to journal or create a vision board. Maybe you’ll draft a goal card every year on January 1 that you review each year on December 31. Or maybe you’ll record a video of you dishing with your best friend about your aspirations. If you want to be America’s Next Top Chef, maybe you’ll hang a rubber chicken from your ceiling. Whatever you hope to achieve, visualize what achieving that dream will look like. By keeping the finish line in sight, you can execute your plan to achieve your dreams.
I know that everyone approaches their goals in different ways, but it’s important to have a plan.
The goals you set will determine that plan.
RIGHT ON TRACK CHALLENGE
What’s one goal you want to achieve this year? Over the next five years? Over the next twenty years? Choose one goal and find a way to capture it.
•Make a vision board.
•Film a video.
•Tape a goal to your mirror.
•Start a journal.
CHAPTER 12
THE POWER OF BELIEF
I was seventeen years old the first time I was invited to the Prefontaine Classic. Competing alongside professional athletes as a high school student, on the heels of breaking the Florida state girls record for the 400, had been thrilling. Although part of me was disappointed to miss out on a win, even I realized that a silver medal at the Prefontaine was still a pretty big deal.
In 2012, I was back at Hayward Field at the University of Oregon in Eugene. The meet, always a highlight for U.S. track and field fans, continued to hold a special place in my heart as well. Although athletes had been running for a few weeks prior, the meet that typically fell during the last week of May marked the official start of the season.
The indoor track season started each year in February. Although I hadn’t run indoor track in 2010 or 2011, I did run indoor that year, winning my first world title in Istanbul in March. I’d started the year strong.
But right before the Prefontaine, I’d been defeated in Jamaica. Instead of working my four P’s, getting off the blocks, and getting into my rhythm, I’d run the second hundred meters too fast. Novlene Williams-Mills and I were neck and neck for the last half of the race, and she beat me by one hundredth of a second.
The Prefontaine was the second race of the official outdoor season, and I arrived holding both my Istanbul victory and my Jamaican defeat in my heart and mind.
Windblown
The wind that year was as fierce as my competitors. Stepping onto the main track for the finals of the 400 in a lightweight Nike tank top and thin racing shorts, the wind was howling. I felt it tugging against the single braid falling down my back.
Inclement weather affects athletes in every outdoor sport. Football and soccer players learn to play in rain and mud. On sunny days, major league baseball players, who once wore eye black to decrease glare, now wear sunglasses. Golfers adjust their swing to accommodate a headwind.
Runners also face rain and sun and wind, but there’s a particularly unique feature about the 400, as well as the 800 and other races that loop the full length of the track. At a single point on a golf course, a golfer evaluates the impact of wind on her game and adjusts her swing in one single direction accordingly. A 100-meter sprinter can take stock of the wind knowing that she’ll be running one hundred meters in a single direction. If the wind is at her back or in her face, she adjusts for it. But any track athlete running at least four hundred meters will run with the wind for part of her race and against the wind for another part. Running 360 degrees means that, either at the beginning, in the middle, or at the end, a 400-meter sprinter will face a headwind.
As I found my place in lane 4, shaking out my muscles and keeping my blood flowing, the prayer of my heart was for the wind to stop for sixty seconds. Just sixty seconds.
I felt a huge gust of wind blow through the stadium. If it continued to rush in the same direction, the angle of the wind would benefit me for only about two seconds of the final turn, and would then be a battle for the rest of the race.
“Runners, take your marks . . .”
My mind and heart were heavy with the meaning of this race. Winning the world title in Istanbul had positioned me for a great year. But my loss in Jamaica had rattled me. I understood what I’d done wrong, but if I’d erred in Jamaica, maybe my race would fall apart here at Hayward Field as well.
Despite that conflict I carried, I had come here to win. And among those I trusted the most—Mom, Dad, Shari—I would have admitted that I wanted to do more than win. I wanted to run my personal best. If I could leave Jamaica in Jamaica, there was no good reason I couldn’t.
Except . . . the wind.
The announcer boomed, “Get set . . .”
In that moment, a prayer of authority that seemed to come from within me and beyond me at the same time bubbled up from my heart and off my lips.
“Peace,” I announced to the wind, “be still.”
Because I’m not in the habit of commanding the elements, I was as surprised as anyone that I’d had the audacity to take command over nature! But in that holy moment—like none other I’ve ever experienced in my life—I felt God’s presence with me.
And all at once, I was keenly aware that the wind ceased.
I heard God whispering to my spirit, “I’m with you. Run on faith.”
Almost the way a dream seems to collapse scenes into time, that short experience pulsed with the fullness of God.
Had I been praying in my bedroom, I would have savored it for an hour. But in the twinkle of an eye, the starting gun signaled the start of the race.
Bang!
Running My Race
With a quiet confidence I believe comes from God, I executed the 4 P’s Coach Hart and I had agreed on. As every muscle did what it had been trained to do, I felt a remarkable peace in my spirit. In my mind. In my body. By the time I’d come off the first turn, I was so certain of God’s presence with me that I was aware of little else.
Coming down the home stretch, I had every confidence I would be the first woman across the finish line. I felt like I was running the race of my life. If I hadn’t learned—the hard way!�
�not to look at the clock, I surely would have peeked.
As I leaned into the finish line, slowing steadily and bending to catch my breath, I felt exhilarated.
I received the kind hug of congratulations from a competitor, but my mind was distracted as I waited for the official time to be posted.
After several excruciating seconds, digital red lights blinked: 49.39. The fastest time in the world.
I was thrilled with the time. Locating my mom and dad and Shari in the stands, I found them hopping up and down pumping their fists.
What I could not know in that electrifying moment was that two months later, when I would race in the London Olympics, the time that would earn me a gold medal would be a fraction of a second slower than the race I’d just won in Eugene.
God and Winning
I want to be very clear about something. Although my faith has always been the most important priority in my life, I have never believed that God was a secret weapon to win races.
Before NFL games, a chaplain prays with each team that is hoping for victory. Atheist ice skaters beat Christian ones. And I wouldn’t fool myself into believing that while I was experiencing such a powerful awareness of God’s nearness with me on Hayward Field, other runners who tipped their hearts toward heaven weren’t also met by God’s faithful presence.
God is not a magic genie we can command with our wishes. And my faith in God’s power and reliability have never been contingent on victory on the track.
I believe God guides me in everything I do. One of the ways God does that is through the wisdom he places in my heart when it comes to the people I select to be in my life. My coach was a godly Christian man. In fact, I was surrounded by believers who understood that the journey, my journey, was greater than breaking records and wearing gold melted into prestigious medallions. I have always considered those friends and family members and supporters who shared my values to be one of God’s greatest gifts in my life.
I’ve also always had an awareness that God would walk with me whether I won or lost. Not only was God’s nearness not dependent on my performance, but I have seen the ways God would enter into victories and defeats, illnesses and injuries, challenges and blessings, using each one to cultivate my character.
Right on Track Page 10
