Misty

by Misty May-Treanor

  19

  WHAT’S NEXT?

  After we’d won the Olympic gold medal in Athens, we knew one wasn’t going to be enough. Kerri and I were on such a high that we made the commitment to each other, right then and there, on the court in Greece, that, yes, we were going to try for a second gold medal at the 2008 Beijing Olympics. The decision was a no-brainer. We knew we could become the first beach volleyball team in history, male or female, to win back-to-back Olympic gold medals. And, after winning in Athens, we knew with absolute certainty that we had something very, very special, something that only comes around once in a lifetime. We’d captured lightning in a bottle, and we weren’t about to let it go.

  What we didn’t know at our moment of triumph in Athens, though, was just how many different ways being the reigning Olympic gold medalists would affect, and change, our lives.

  After Matt and I were married in November 2004, we tried for a couple of months to get pregnant, but nothing happened. In early 2005, I had to make a choice: “Do I, or do I not, push myself for four more years?” We had several discussions about our lives together, our goals for our family, and our dreams for our careers. We both realized we had a lot left to accomplish as athletes.

  “Matt, since both of our careers are doing well right now, why don’t we make the commitment to them?” I said. “I’ll make the commitment for four more years, and then I’ll be happy to step away for a little bit.”

  When you have children, one of the parents has to have his or her feet on the ground. Dragging kids all over the place isn’t any fun. When you become a parent, your children should be your top priority. So Matt and I made the decision I’d try for the 2008 Olympics. That became our goal, and we stuck to it. We focused on making ourselves financially secure, so that after Beijing, I could afford to take time off.

  Throughout 2005 and 2006, the addictive, post-Olympics rush kept Kerri and me going. We were more focused on perfection those first two years after we won the Olympic gold medal than at any other time in our partnership, because, now, instead of having to live up to expectations, we’d arrived.

  Now, we were America’s Golden Girls.

  Now, we were beach volleyball’s iconic team.

  Now, we were simply Misty and Kerri.

  Now, instead of being talked about in terms of promise and potential, we were being held to the highest standards possible.

  At every tournament, domestically and internationally, we were the team to watch, and most important, we were the team to beat. The moment we stepped onto the sand, we had huge targets on our backs. As a result, we had to be at our peak all the time. We couldn’t ever cruise. Because of that, we trained harder than ever, elevating our game to astronomical levels. We lived in an intense, demanding atmosphere, which at times became physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausting.

  In 2005 and 2006, Kerri and I had extremely full competitive schedules, domestically and internationally, because every tournament wanted us in the field for media, marketing and sponsorship opportunities, and ticket sales. We thought of ourselves as ambassadors of the sport, and we believed it was important to compete in as many different cities and countries as possible, to best represent the United States. To prepare for our wild ride, I added new wrinkles to my training regimen, and almost instantly, I underwent a physical and emotional transformation. I became really happy and really passionate, about Matt, about our marriage, about volleyball, about my career, and I completely dedicated myself from a fitness standpoint.

  In hindsight, I’d have to say Matt inspired those changes inside me. With him, I’d found my soul mate. Being more removed, timewise, from Mom’s death also helped buoy me. And, on top of all that, I was maturing beyond the athletic field.

  First, I began working two or three times a week with Miriam Richter, the owner of Pilates Bodyworks in Coral Springs, Florida, where Matt and I had a home. I’d never tried Pilates before. With my past abdominal issues, I knew that I had to strengthen my core and increase my flexibility. I’d heard great things about Pilates. The program focuses on the muscles that keep the body balanced; they’re essential to providing support for the spine. Each movement in Pilates incorporates six basic principles: control, concentration, centering, focus, precision, and breathing.

  I discovered Miriam on the Internet and quickly realized I’d struck gold. Her résumé blew me away: She’s a registered nurse from Johns Hopkins School of Nursing. She also has two degrees in psychology. She’s a certified personal trainer with the National Strength and Conditioning Association, and she’s a certified instructor with All-American Pilates. She teaches exercises that are designed to restore the natural curves of the spine (“neutral spine”) and rebalance the muscles around the joints.

  When I went in for my initial consultation, I explained to Miriam, in great detail, my abdominal injuries, as well as my body’s strengths and weaknesses. Miriam asked me to demonstrate the various positions I put my body in when playing beach volleyball. Before our second session, she went online and studied photographs and videos of me, and other beach volleyball players, to get a better idea of movement patterns. With all of that information, Miriam then designed a Pilates program for me.

  For example, to balance the strength and flexibility in my legs, so that I landed on both feet when I jumped (I tended to favor one leg over the other), I lay on my back on the Pilates reformer, a platform that moves back and forth along a carriage. Resistance was provided by my body weight and by the springs attached to the carriage and platform. I jumped up and off a padded footplate. It mimicked jumping in the sand, but was much easier on my joints. To strengthen my rotational muscles, she used specific Pilates exercises for me, plus I invented a new move. On the reformer, I did side rotation, holding cords in both hands, with specific spring resistance. On the Cadillac, a six-foot-tall machine with leg and arm springs, fuzzy loops to hang from, a push-through bar to stretch you out, and a trapeze, we did lying flexion. I added some rotation to that exercise. Now Miriam calls it “Misty’s move,” and she makes Matt do it, too.

  Today, Miriam remains a vital member of my team, as well as a close friend. Pilates has made me a better beach volleyball player. It has helped stabilize my shoulders, correct my back issues, and given me better posture. In long, grueling games on the beach, my body doesn’t disintegrate as much. All the rotational exercises I do really help prevent abdominal muscle strain, especially when I dive in the sand. Overall, my body’s not as fatigued, not just after weekend tournaments, but as the seasons roll on.

  I’ve even coaxed Dad into doing Pilates, reminding him that an old dog like him can learn new tricks. I’ll never forget the day we trained at the beach, then went by Miriam’s studio for our Pilates sessions. I worked out with her first. Dad said he’d be next up. Then he proceeded to lie down on a Pilates mat and fall asleep.

  In addition to trying Pilates, I decided I needed to improve my speed, acceleration and deceleration, explosive power, strength, and sports specific movements. Next, I joined Cris Carter’s FAST Program in Coral Springs, Florida, which trains top pro, college, and Olympic athletes. I was assigned to Eddie Winslow, one of three staff trainers. Carter, the former NFL wide receiver and current ESPN commentator, eventually closed his business. Now, Eddie owns My Speed Trainer (MST) Sports Performance in Margate, Florida.

  From 2005 forward, from November until March, I’ve trained with Eddie three or four days a week, two or three hours at a time. He says the progress I’ve made in just about every category is “above and beyond what the normal high-level athlete would achieve.” In the beginning, Matt and I trained together, but Eddie quickly realized that, for domestic tranquility, it would be better for us to train separately. Next, he trained me with high-level male athletes, but I kicked their butts, too, and finally, he figured it was better just to train me individually.

  Among high-level beach volleyball players, Eddie says, my training program is one of the most comprehensive ever. Case in point: I
do full Olympic lifting, and my strength has greatly increased. At one point in 2008, I was squatting with 225 pounds. That’s a lot for a woman, but that particular Olympic lift has helped tremendously with my jumping ability and my movements in the sand. Also, I feel faster and more explosive, thanks to Eddie’s breaking down my running technique, then completely rebuilding it.

  To supervise my training on the West Coast, I turned to Anya Tronson, who worked at the American Sports Center (ASC) in Anaheim, California. She was part of the facility’s Competitive Athlete Training Zone (CATZ). She also was a performance trainer for the U.S. national men’s indoor volleyball team. I happened to meet her when Matt and I were at ASC watching our niece Ashley Young-Treanor play basketball. Anya introduced herself and said, “Why don’t you check us out the next time you’re in town? We’d love your feedback.” A few months later, I treated myself to one of Anya’s hour-long “fitness sessions.” I almost puked and died. How’s that for feedback?

  A former college soccer player and javelin thrower, Anya worked out right beside me, which made our sessions much more intense because she never stopped pushing. She’s a five-foot-four dynamo, whose nickname is Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. She packs a big wallop, moving from one exercise to the next, mixing cardio, sprints, core, agility, and strength. Starting in 2005, we worked out three times a week in the preseason and twice a week during the season. Every workout was different, so my body never adapted. She estimated I burned a thousand calories per session, similar to an advanced cross-country skier.

  From the get-go, Anya focused on improving my change of direction, flexibility, and core strength. She concentrated on movements that helped prevent injuries. I worked with medicine balls, core balls, Swiss balls, dumbbells, ladders, and rings. And oh, yes, “dollies,” those flat little discs with wheels on the bottom. They were an ASC creation, great for core strength, but my least favorite piece of equipment.

  Even Matt gave Anya’s workouts a try. He was leery at first, but soon, he came into the facility, a cup of coffee in hand, and yelled, “Anya, let’s get after this beast!” Typically, he got to the point in her workout where he was bent over, sweating profusely, and breathing heavily, and he shook his head and said, “Anya, I don’t know about this.” Of course, it was even more intense when Matt and I worked out together with Anya. It always turned competitive. Matt would try to beat me or Anya, or both of us—and he could, but only if he tried really, really hard.

  Today, Anya says she’s blown away by my work ethic, as well as my ability to understand my body.

  Besides adding new trainers after Athens, I also added a new sport to my résumé—auto racing. In early April 2005, I participated in the Pro/Celebrity Race portion of the 30th Toyota Grand Prix of Long Beach, the city’s biggest event, featuring Indy cars roaring through downtown at 200 mph. The ten-lap race through a 1.97-mile street circuit featured celebrities racing against pro drivers, as well as a few “buy-in” drivers. Everybody raced an identically prepped Toyota Celica vehicle. The pros spotted the celebrities thirty seconds at the start; after that, it was every driver for himself or herself.

  I prepared for the event by spending three days at Danny McKeever’s FAST LANE, in Willow Springs, California, the official racing school of Toyota Motorsports. The thing I loved most about racing cars was the discipline. It was much more mentally and physically demanding than volleyball. I’d recommend racing school for every teenager. If you missed a turn by the slightest of margins, you’d end up hitting the wall. I always was exhausted after a day at FAST LANE.

  I realized I’ve got what it takes to race cars—I ended up finishing fifth overall, the top woman. I’ve got great reflexes and timing, thanks to Mom, and as Dad proudly says, I’ve got “a set of balls” (his contribution). The qualifying and the racing were super exciting for the spectators, but nerve-racking for us drivers, because both events were filled with chills, thrills, spills, and crashes. However, there were plenty of lighter moments, like when the organizers gave me a blowup doll with a Marlins cap because, they said, I was a “baseball widow.” I shot back, “Don’t say that! Matt’s not dead!” I brought the doll back to my hotel, but in the middle of the night I saw it propped up against the wall, and it totally freaked me out. I jumped out of bed, punched the air out of it, stuffed it in a corner, and left it there.

  Singer/actor Meat Loaf, who finished seventh, was good for a lot of laughs, quite the larger-than-life character, always trying so hard, but forever wildly grinding his gears. Of course, Dad and I instantly bonded with Meat. He stood up in the drivers’ meeting before the start of race weekend and announced, “My name is Meat Loaf, and I’m the one to beat.” So Dad, through Spadooza, an apparel company he owns, designed T-shirts for the forty staff members and twenty racers. On the front of everybody’s shirt were the words BEAT THE MEAT. But on the back of Meat Loaf’s T-shirt, Dad had written I AM THE MEAT TO BEAT. Meat loved that T-shirt. In the future, I’d like to race cars. I’m not sure what kind of cars, but I know I’d be good at it. In the meantime, in a charity auction, I won sessions at a NASCAR racing school for Matt and me.

  Thank goodness I fortified myself with a strong team of trainers, a total body training regimen, and yes, even the challenge and discipline of auto racing, because the post-Athens Olympic gold medal onslaught was brutal. Over the course of 2005 and 2006, Kerri and I played in forty-five tournaments, which turned out to be the largest number of events over a two-year span in our careers. In 2005, we won eleven of fourteen AVP tournaments and six of seven FIVB tournaments. And although neither of us has ever paid much attention to streaks or statistics, on May 22, 2005, we became the second women’s team to surpass the $1 million mark in combined earnings. In 2006, we won thirteen of sixteen AVP tournaments and three of eight FIVB tournaments. We were on the road, often for weeks at a time, from April to October.

  After marrying Matt, who was playing for the Marlins, I split my time between our homes in Long Beach and Coral Springs. Because our beach volleyball and baseball seasons overlapped, we didn’t see each other often or for very long. In the summers of 2005 and 2006, we were together about twenty days total during each of those periods. If I had a few weeks off between events, and the Marlins were playing in Florida, I’d fly there to be with him. That meant I wasn’t in Southern California to practice with Kerri. So she’d practice with Dane, while Dad often flew to Florida to put me through my paces. Kerri, meanwhile, married Casey Jennings on December 4, 2005. I was one of her bridesmaids. They were luckier than us because their careers coincided. They always were together, at their Hermosa Beach home and on the AVP and FIVB circuits.

  For all of our hard work and our hectic schedules, in 2005 and 2006, I earned $407,400 on the AVP tour and $232,200 on the FIVB tour, my two most lucrative seasons ever, prize-money-wise. In 2005 and 2006, I won the three biggest AVP awards: Best Offensive Player, Best Defensive Player, and Most Valuable Player. Plus, Kerri and I won Team of the Year, both years.

  Because of the dramatic changes in our lives due to having won the 2004 Olympic gold medal, because of the stress and strain that came along with living in the spotlight and being on the front burner of the stove all of the time, success came at a cost: Midway through the 2006 season, Kerri and I began experiencing friction in our relationship and our partnership. It wasn’t just one thing that caused the rub. It felt more like a hundred. The pressure of being America’s Golden Girls, and the pressure of being Misty and Kerri, was starting to get to us.

  Now, we were outdrawing the men’s final at some AVP events.

  Now, we were so well known that we were recognized when we practiced at the beach, which often meant distractions in our workouts.

  Now, whenever I went somewhere, to the grocery store, to Starbucks, to the gas station, I always got, “Where’s Kerri?” And she heard, “Where’s Misty?” People expected us to be joined at the hip. Kerri, who’s admittedly more high-strung than I am, had trouble decompressing after tournaments be
cause she couldn’t get away from the crowds to find some inner peace.

  “It’s night and day different,” Kerri told Dig magazine. “I don’t think it’s anything you can relate to until it happens to you. I never expected this. It’s a great side effect of what we’ve done, and the fans are awesome. It’s just that when you have a bad day, it gets tough, because they can be relentless. They’ll follow you into the bathroom, follow you into the players’ tent. People are so kind, but sometimes you have to say, ‘No,’ which is unfortunate. But you’ve got to take care of yourself. You’ve got to take care of number one, which is winning.”

  And I told Dig: “There are a lot of people out there who would love to trade spots, so I have nothing to complain about. But we are spread pretty thin. People don’t see that. Sometimes they think we just come out here and play volleyball.”

  Adding to our pressure was the fact that we weren’t winning as regularly on the international circuit. It was the sixth year of our partnership, and it wasn’t an Olympic qualifying year, so quite honestly, we both were a bit bored. More than any other season, 2006 was a grind for the top men’s and women’s teams because, between domestic and international competitions, there were twenty-four weekend tournaments from March 31 through November 5. There were stretches where I saw Matt only two and a half days over the course of three months. Losing, plus being mentally and physically fried, opened up all kinds of cracks and fissures in Kerri’s and my relationship. We weren’t communicating well, on or off the court. We constantly seemed to be on each other’s nerves. We weren’t spending much time together, outside practices and competitions. We had reached a crossroad.

  It’s very unusual for professional beach volleyball teams, especially female teams, to stay together for long periods. More often than not, what breaks up a partnership is the fact that there’s another team that’s doing a lot of winning. Most of the teams Kerri and I have seen throughout our partnership have broken up because they’ve tried so hard to beat us and they’ve failed, perhaps even just once, so it was, “Uh-oh, this isn’t working.” And poof, somebody gets dumped.