Life Outside the Oval Office: The Track Less Traveled

by Nick Symmonds

  My Swiss friend, Rachel, and I had stayed in touch after the London Games. We had reconnected a few weeks earlier at the Monaco Diamond

  League meeting and she mentioned that she would be in Moscow for the world championships, working for the IAAF.

  As I got ready for bed, I thought about how badly I wanted to see her. I wanted to talk to her about topics other than running and hear her beautiful accent. I sent her a text asking if she was in town yet. She responded that she had just arrived and was staying at a hotel that was located across the Moskva River from the hotel where I was. I sent her a few flirtatious messages, then asked if she wanted to come over. She accepted and met me in the lobby a few minutes later.

  This meet was to be held in Luzhniki Stadium in Moscow’s Olympic Park. It had been constructed for the 1980 Olympic Games, the Games that the United States boycotted. Although I had raced here before, it had been on one of the park’s practice tracks rather than in the actual Olympic stadium. When I entered the marvelous arena for the first time it gave me chills.

  I had raced on many tracks around the world, including several Olympic stadiums, but something about this one felt special. Perhaps it was the history that this stadium represented. I had personally met athletes who had made the 1980 US Olympic Team and were forced to sit at home and watch the Games play out on television as President Carter thumbed his nose at the Soviet Union. I was grateful to be here and grateful that Team USA had not boycotted these world championships, as many people suggested we should do.

  I understood why many wanted a boycott, as Russian President Vladimir Putin had recently signed into law legislation that tread on the rights of its citizens, and made it illegal to spread what they called “gay propaganda.” According to Putin, the rules were put in place to protect the children of Russia. The “anti-gay propaganda” laws, as international media now called them, made it illegal to publicly demonstrate or talk about being gay. Something as simple as waving a rainbow flag could get the flag holder put in prison. Needless to say, gay marriage was not up for discussion in Putin’s Russia.

  I had been a big supporter of equal rights for the lesbian gay bisexual transgender (LGBT) community for many years. This was not due to a close family member coming out as gay, or personally witnessing a friend being beaten for his or her sexual orientation. Rather, it was because I truly believe that sexual orientation lies on a spectrum, and that some humans are born with an attraction to the same sex. To discriminate against a group of people for the way they were born is just plain wrong.

  My support publicly began when I heard that the Boy Scouts of America (BSA) were discriminating against openly gay troops and leaders. As an Eagle Scout from Boise’s Troop 94, I was embarrassed and angered by the BSA’s stance. I remembered my days as a youth working hard on my Citizenship in the Community merit badge and did not recall the practice of bigotry being part of the requirements. I posted a tweet to the Boy Scouts of America that let them know I would not support them until they did away with their discriminatory practices.

  My tweet received a small amount of media attention, as athletes do not typically speak out with regard to political issues. I don’t know whether that’s because many athletes are afraid of offending fans or sponsors, but being politically active is not common among professional athletes. Although I have many political opinions, I had, for the most part, kept them to myself during the course of my career. Gay equality, however, was an issue I simply could not remain silent about.

  A gay couple in California felt the same way and began a form of political protest called the NOH8 campaign. NOH8 is a creative way to spell “no hate.” This movement was simple, yet powerful. It involved photographer Adam Bouska taking photos of celebrities with their mouths taped shut with duct tape. The tape silencing the individual represented the way the state of California, and the passing of State Proposition Eight, trod on the rights of gay couples to wed. Prop 8 was an initiative that passed in 2008 and banned same-sex marriage in the state of California.

  A member of the NOH8 campaign learned of my support for equality and asked if I would come in and shoot a picture. It just so happened that I was scheduled to be in LA for a few weeks and was able to go to their Hollywood studio. The picture turned out quite well, and was posted on their website along with a quote I had given them: “It is an honor to be a part of the NOH8 Campaign. This civil rights issue will be the defining legal movement of our generation. To deny someone the rights afforded to others based on their gender or sexual orientation defies logic and is completely un-American.”

  My public support of gay rights in America had generated a fairly large fan base of gay men and women. As I prepared for my trip to Russia, some asked that I boycott the world championships in protest. Others asked me what, once I was actually in Russia, I would do to protest the anti-gay laws there. I was torn. I fiercely opposed the laws, but also knew I had a job to do.

  After much deliberation I wrote a column for RunnersWorld.com where I denounced the Russian laws, but said that out of respect for the host nation I would stay quiet and focus on my reason for being there, which was to win a medal for my country. Many felt I took the easy way out and said that my silence was cowardly. I understood their position, but I also had a duty to my country to run to the best of my ability. I had worked for seven years to finally be a favorite for a medal, and placing well in Moscow had to be my number one priority.

  As I entered the stadium for my first race I put political issues out of my mind and focused on getting to the finals. I won both my preliminary and semi-final races, which accomplished that goal. The eight men who would tow the line to race for the three available medals were the fastest men in the world. I was honored to be part of the field.

  What was even more exciting was the fact that of all eight finalists, none had ever won a world or Olympic medal. The top three finishers would all be medaling for the very first time. Many said that it was going to be one of the most exciting finals of the entire championships, due to the fact that there was no clear favorite.

  I kept this in mind as I prepared for the race. The sun had just started to set, but the evening was still warm as I ran laps around the warm up track. As usual, my legs felt better with each consecutive round. On this night, the night of the finals, I found myself feeling light and bouncy. I went through my warm up routine nervous, but confident. Coach Rowland and Coach Sam were both by my side, making sure my drills were done correctly, and offering words of encouragement and wisdom. When the call room announced it was time to head to the stadium I gave them both a hug goodbye.

  The van that took us on the two-minute drive from the practice track to the stadium was small and smelled of sweat. I took my seat trying not to make eye contact with my competitors. Instead, remained focused on myself and what I needed to do to finally win a medal. The eight of us sat in silence as we crossed the park.

  In the final call room I was able to put on my spikes and uniform and do some last-minute drills and stretches. With ten minutes to go before race time we were walked out onto the track. The stadium was nearly full, and the crowd of roughly seventy thousand people had started to get rowdy. This race had been highly anticipated and I could feel the energy in the air.

  I ran a few strides and stripped off my warm-ups. My heart pounded in my chest and in my mind I repeated words that I had already said a thousand times that day: don’t waste this opportunity.

  We were called to the starting line and set free with a bang I had heard so many times before. This was my third World Championships final and I knew from experience how the first quarter of the race would unfold. There were several sprinters in the race, including Duane, and I knew they would all fight for the lead going into the second turn. As expected, they flew down the backstretch challenging each other for position while I brought up the rear, conserving energy.

  Duane, adamant about leading, ran his first 200 meters in 23.53 to beat everyone to the curve. He had close to 10
meters on me, and I came through the first quarter of the race almost a full second behind him. I thought back to the 2008 Olympic Trials when Khadevis Robinson went out too hard and had saved little for his final sprint.

  As we entered the home stretch for the first time the pace slowed and the pack began to bunch. I wanted to conserve my momentum, so I moved to the outside of lane two and began to move up. I was not accelerating, just maintaining my speed.

  As we neared the end of the first lap I knew that with a tiny surge I could be up on Duane’s shoulder. I dug down and quickened my stride for a few steps. I neared the lead, running even with Duane as we came through the first lap nearly tied.

  The bell rang loudly in my left ear signaling the final lap and I glanced out of the corner of my eye to see that we had split 50.28 for our first lap. I knew that of all eight competitors I had run the most evenly paced first lap. Doing so had sapped very little of my strength and I glided along easily in the outside of lane one.

  I heard Duane’s labored breathing as we ran in sync down the back-stretch, and felt fairly certain that I would be able to out kick him. I honestly hoped, however, that he would hang on for a medal. There was some jostling as we entered the final turn, but unlike Deagu, where I was bumped and shoved every step of the final 200 meters, now I was close enough to the front that I was able to run unimpeded.

  We entered the home stretch and I thought of Coach Gags yelling “flip the switch!” at the 2008 Olympic Trials. I closed my eyes and dug deep, lifting my legs in a full sprint as Coach Radcliffe had taught me.

  When I opened my eyes I saw that I was beginning to pull away from Duane and the rest of the field. I was rapidly burning through my kick, but was now a full stride ahead of the nearest competitor. The finish line was getting closer and closer and with only 50 meters to go I was almost certain I would be the next world champion. I struggled to maintain form as the lactic acid gripped my legs.

  With everything I had, I urged myself to the finish line. As I did, I felt someone closing in on me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a green jersey and knew it was Mohammed Aman of Ethiopia. For a moment we ran shoulder to shoulder and then, in the final 20 meters, he pulled away and I knew there was nothing I could do, he would win the race. I made a quick glance around me and lunged for the finish line.

  I knew I had finished second. I threw up a fist, and grimaced at the same time. The feeling was so very bittersweet. On one hand I had finally won my medal, cementing my place in history as one of America’s greatest half milers. On the other, I had come within inches of being world champion and might never have another chance to become one. As emotion flooded over me I heard my mother’s voice in my head. “Win or lose, be the first person to shake everyone’s hand.”

  I walked over to the new world champion and did just that. I then walked to the rest of the field and congratulated them. When I found Duane I gave him a hug and asked him how he finished. His response, sixth, hurt to hear. Though we were competitors and it damn near killed me every time he beat me, I had twice before finished sixth at a world championship and knew the frustration he was feeling.

  I told him that he would learn from this race and go on to do incredible things. He, in turn, said he was glad one of us was going home with a medal. Through almost two decades of racing, I’m not sure I have met a classier competitor than Duane Solomon.

  I patted him on the back, then jogged over to meet a representative of USATF who handed me an American flag. This was my sixth outdoor global championship meet, my fourth final, and now, instead of walking off the track with my head hung low, I was finally going to find out what it felt like to run a victory lap wrapped in the American flag.

  I loved every moment of it, and stopped every few steps to pose for photographers. I looked into the stands and saw my family waving and blowing kisses. Tears streamed down the faces of my mom and sister. I desperately wanted to run up to hug them, but it was impossible, given the way the stadium was laid out. I waved and blew a kiss back, and continued around the track.

  At the 200 meter mark I found Coach Rowland, Coach Sam, and Chris Layne who had all somehow managed to sneak their way down to the track. I was so grateful to have these men in my life. The “Symmonds Money Team,” as Coach Sam called us, had finally earned our medal. I gave each of them a hug and told them I loved them. We posed for a few pictures and then I was asked to continue around the track.

  When the victory lap was completed we three medalists were ushered into the mixed zone where we were mobbed by reporters. I spoke with media outlets from around the world discussing the way the race played out, and how it felt to finally have a medal.

  One reporter from a local Russian paper asked me a very interesting question. He said he had read that I would remain silent about Russia’s anti-gay propaganda laws as I worked toward winning a medal for my country, but asked that now that my job was completed, would I care to say something.

  “As much as I can speak out about it,” I said, “I believe that all humans deserve equality as however God made them. Whether you’re gay, straight, black, white, we all deserve the same rights. If there is anything I can do to champion the cause and further it, I will, shy of getting arrested.” I then dedicated my silver medal to my gay and lesbian friends, and thanked the Russian reporter for the interview.

  I continued through the mixed zone, stopping to chat with reporters I had known since I first began my professional career. Everyone was thrilled for me, and excited for the tone that this race would set for the other American middle distance runners who were still to compete. I was taken to a press conference, and then to a room for drug testing. Just as with the Olympic Trials and USATF Championships, all medalists are tested for performance enhancing drugs. All I wanted to do was leave the stadium and find my family, but first I was required to provide 90 ml of urine. Thirty minutes and five bottles of water later I was a free man.

  Still in my tights and singlet, I slung my backpack over my shoulders and ran outside. The meet had ended long ago and outside it was very quiet. I wanted to call my coaches and family, to let them know I was ready, then remembered that my phone did not work in Russia. Instead, I walked the half-mile to the practice track. Once there, I took a lap hoping to find Coach Sam or Coach Rowland. It was almost surreal how quiet it was on the track. The lights had been turned off and no one else was around. I looked up at the starry night sky and laughed. So this is what happens after you win a medal?

  I had been through this process enough to know that I would eventually find my family and coaches and so, took the opportunity to walk a leisurely lap around the familiar oval. I knew my goal-oriented mind would brush this accomplishment aside soon, to make room for newer, loftier goals, but for just a moment I allowed myself to savor the feeling of having accomplished one of the hardest challenges I had ever set for myself.

  When the lap was completed I caught one of the buses back to my hotel. As I boarded the bus I found Coach Rowland, Coach Sam and Chris Layne sitting together waiting for me. Together, we laughed and replayed every step of the race. They told me how they felt watching it and I told them how I felt racing it. So many times before we had shared this post race moment together, usually drowning our sorrows with burgers and beers. Tonight we would celebrate! With what else? Burgers and beers.

  My family was waiting for us at the hotel when our bus pulled up. They ran up and hugged me; tears were still streaming down my mother’s face. Inside we pulled up a table near the bar and sat down to appreciate the moment together. As I looked at my beloved family and my wonderful track family all together at one table, I felt truly fortunate.

  The first round of drinks came and went. At one point a celebrating member of the USATF board headed to our table with a shot in hand. Without introduction the board member said, “I told everyone that I was going to take a shot for each medal that Team USA won here in Moscow. So this is for you Nick.” With that, the fiery liquid was quickly downed. “And that, ladies
and gentlemen,” I said, “is the USATF for you!”

  Our party lasted until well after midnight, when my parents called it a night. We said our goodbyes and went to get a few hours of rest. Sam and I went up to my hotel room where we again replayed the events of the evening. He tried to get a bit of shut-eye, but I knew there was no way I could sleep. Adrenaline was still pumping through my system. I sat down at my computer and began to answer the hundreds of emails, texts, and tweets that I had received. My loyal friends and fans knew how hard I had worked for this medal and were very generous with their kind words.

  Around six A.M. I tore myself away from my computer to peek out the window. The sun was just starting to rise and I found myself famished, so I went downstairs and enjoyed the sweetest bacon and eggs I had ever tasted.

  The next few days were a whirlwind of interviews, appearances, and meetings. Coach and I discussed taking a few days off to let my body recover and to deal with all the interview demands. Coach Sam stayed in Moscow with me so we could take in a few races and enjoy a bit of vacation. Most of the interviews I did were centered around the dedication I had made to my gay and lesbian friends. Apparently, I was the first athlete to openly denounce the new laws on Russian soil. With the 2014 winter Olympics set to take place in Sochi just a few months away, everyone was interested to see how the Russian government might respond.

  My agent and publicist were inundated with interview requests and we managed them as best we could. The ultimate highlight was when I returned to the United States, to New York City, to tape the CNN program AC360 with Anderson Cooper. It was a true pleasure to meet such an accomplished reporter and, as expected, his questions were well thought out and thought provoking. Mr. Cooper was kind enough to give me a tour of the CNN studios and answer all of my questions about broadcasting and television.