Trevor Barron of Bethel Park, Pa. represented the United States in the 10,000-meter racewalk at the World Youth Championships in Bressanone, Italy on July 8-12. We asked him to share his experiences following his return.
My path to qualifying for the World Youth Championships was different from that of my teammates. Nearly all of them had to win tough competitions at the World Youth Trials in Michigan on June 30-July 1. For many of them, their place on the team was decided by a fraction of a second in a running event or a few inches in a jumping event. In contrast, I basically made the team in March when I completed a 10-kilometer walk in 44:26, 40 seconds under the qualifying standard established by USA Track and Field. I was the only racewalker to make the standard.
S
o there was virtually no pressure on me when I went to Eastern Michigan University for the trials. In fact, the USA Track and Field racewalk committee chair tried unsuccessfully to get me excused from the trials race, since I had no competition. Nevertheless, I was reminded of the extent to which racewalkers tend to get overlooked. According to the schedule posted on the Internet, my World Youth Trials “race” was moved from Wednesday to Tuesday, but when I checked in for the race a clerk with a different schedule told me my race was Wednesday. I had to return on Wednesday to walk three kilometers on the track by myself.
(Photo by PhotoRun.net)
USA Track and Field has been very good to me. It has placed me on three international trips this year: to El Salvador for the Americas Race Walking Cup in May, to Italy for the World Youth Championships, and then to Trinidad for the Pan American Junior meet on July 31-August 2. USATF also funded my travel to San Diego for two weeks of training in June with my coach, two-time Olympic racewalker Tim Seaman.
Nevertheless, I went to the World Youth Championship team selection meeting with a lingering sense of unease. The United States could enter up to two competitors in each event, which could make as many as 76 youths (plus a few extra sprinters for the relay pool), but USATF had announced that the team size would be 55. Someone would have to be left out, and I had this nagging fear that they would drop their lone racewalker to make room for an extra sprinter or thrower. There was no need to fear, however.
Not since 2003 had a racewalker made the World Youth Championships team. My 10k time of 43:36 at Junior Nationals in Eugene on June 27 was the fastest by an American junior since Ben Shorey set the national record of 42:50 in 2002.
Racewalking is, to say the least, not very appreciated in the U.S. Many of the sprinters on the team asked me to demonstrate it for them, as they had never seen a real racewalker before. Even some of the coaches admitted that they were unfamiliar with the event, although the coaching staff was very helpful to me throughout the trip.
Friday, July 3
A mandatory team meeting to go over trip rules and procedures was scheduled for 9:00 a.m. to noon. We had been told that the rest of the day would be filled with paperwork, additional meetings, and preparations for departure, with no time for a workout. And I knew the whole next day was a travel day. So I roused myself at 5:30 a.m. and completed a typical hard workout: 18 minutes of warmup, a 50-minute fartlek, and 12 minutes of cooldown.
At the team meeting speakers emphasized repeatedly that we should feel proud to represent the United States, that not many people have this opportunity, and that we should seek to make a good impression and not embarrass ourselves. Drug testing was covered in detail, with warnings about taking herbal supplements or even drinking Red Bull beverages. A sport psychologist told us to be prepared to deal with adversity, stating, “Expect every possible thing to go wrong.” Team members excitedly received their uniforms.
After lunch in the Eastern Michigan University dormitories we had another meeting to remind us not to misbehave on the trip. Then everybody was taken to the track for a 45-minute workout (the one for which we had been told there would be no time). Oh well, 45 minutes wouldn’t have been enough for my fartlek.
(Photo by Joy Kamani, www.NSSF.org)
Saturday, July 4
It turns out that we had time for a workout this morning too, before heading for the airport. I walked 10 kilometers at my easy workout pace of 5:30 per kilometer, accompanied by a coach since we were not permitted to leave the dorm on our own. After 55 minutes of jogging next to me the coach was impressed with my walking speed.
Sunday, July 5
After nine hours of overnight flying we arrived in Munich, Germany. From there we rode a bus for three hours south through the Alps to Bressanone, Italy. The bus trip was as close as we came to tourism in this beautiful region, as once we reached Bressanone our task was to train for competition, not travel. Unfortunately I slept through most of the bus trip.
We reached our lodging at a Catholic convent on the edge of this modest town of about 20,000 inhabitants. The five male distance runners and I would share a comfortable room with seven beds and seven closets. I unpacked my bags and made a most unpleasant discovery: one of my training shoes was missing. Apparently some security employee had rummaged through my bag, perhaps suspecting that my powdered Gatorade was actually a more dangerous substance, and carelessly knocked a shoe out. Not wanting to ruin my competition shoes before the race, I would have to spend the week training in running shoes. For the first of many times I remembered what the sport psychologist had said.
Monday, July 6
Managing a trip like this is quite a task, even for an organization with the resources of USA Track and Field. Twelve staff, accompanied by a superb medical team of five, were responsible for overseeing 55 often-rambunctious teenagers and a load of complex logistical arrangements—travel, meals, lodging, and competition. So I understand that there can be some mixups. We had quite a few of them starting Monday.
We were supposed to go to a track at 8:40 a.m., but staff told us the schedule had changed and we could not go. We walked to a practice field with a 100-meter straightaway and a long jump pit. It was locked. Finally someone came to unlock the gate. I watched others work out as I was planning to walk in the afternoon.
After meeting the Mexican team at lunch we went to a conference where we heard presentations by several Olympians, including long jump world record holder Mike Powell. They encouraged us to keep working hard and not to quit when we face obstacles.
Then I did my workout, walking for an hour along a riverside trail. It was a pleasant walk in cool weather. I felt great, with a very low heart rate.
At the evening meeting I learned that I would be a U.S. team flagbearer at the next day’s opening ceremony. My main qualification was that I wouldn’t be competing on the first day.
The distance runners and I kept early bedtimes, but many team members were more relaxed, playing music and making noise until 11:00 p.m.
Tuesday, July 7
It was our last day of training before the meet began. We were supposed to leave at 8:00 a.m. The bus arrived at 8:25 and took us to the stadium, where we learned that we would have to take another shuttle to a practice facility. After a long ride north—almost into Austria—we finally arrived at 9:38. I walked 25 minutes easy (in my running shoes); 10 fast intervals in my competition shoes (putting tape on the bottom to protect the soles), and some more easy walking. We then waited for the shuttle, which finally departed at 11:40, returning us to our residence at 12:15.
During the afternoon we walked downtown to see the shops in Bressanone’s quaint town center. Everything was grossly overpriced by American standards. We walked back to our residence.
That evening the opening ceremony took place—not in the stadium as usual, but in the town center. We met at a designated location and then paraded downtown together. The best part was a 10-minute time period for mingling and taking photos with athletes from the 180 countries represented.
For me, interacting with young people from so many different cultures is one of the high points of these trips. Of course we couldn’t communicate with everyone: some people couldn’t speak English, and the Nigerians’ accent was hard to understand even though they did speak English. It was especially fascinating to observe the different accents and speech patterns of the other English-speaking athletes, such as the Australians calling each other “mates.”
We then walked to dinner and, finally, returned to our lodging. The team members, including the 800-meter runners who had to compete the next morning, had walked several miles.
Wednesday, July 8
It was the first day of competition, but I attended for only a couple hours. The staff told those of us not competing that we should get some rest. I enjoyed watching both American women qualify for the steeplechase finals. The men’s 800 meters were not so enjoyable as my roommate Quincy Downing, still looking exhausted from the previous day, ran a 1:58 and did not advance. He had run a 1:51.99 at the World Youth Trials without seeming to push himself. Our other runner, Bronson Duran, advanced with a 1:54.
I got another 55-minute workout in, but trying to walk in my running shoes was causing blisters to develop in both heels.
That night, around 9:45 p.m., everyone in my room was asleep when we were awakened for a team meeting to discuss meal and transportation arrangements for the next day. A 1500-meter runner competing on Thursday looked very upset about having to wake up. I offered her some of my Granola bars and bagels as she did not want to eat the food available in the cafeteria (yogurt, apples, corn flakes, and bread). She said she could tell I was an experienced athlete since I had known to bring preferred foods with me from home, and because she had heard me explaining my training needs to the coaches. (Although the schedule changes were difficult, the coaching staff was very good at understanding our training needs and accommodating them as much as possible.)
Thursday, July 9
It was the day before my race. I retaped my competition shoes so that I could wear them for an easy 30-minute walk. After lunch and a shower, I was about to take a nap when a roommate said everyone had to leave in 15 minutes to watch the afternoon competition session. I agree that we should watch each other compete as much as possible, but I did not want to be baking in the sun for five hours.
After watching for two hours a group of us asked if we could return to our residence. The staff consented, but said that we would have to stay in view of a coach rather than going to our rooms. I was upset, but figured that sitting in the lobby would still be better than sitting in the sun on concrete benches. Happily, when we got back, the coach chaperoning us said we could go to our rooms.
I returned to the room for a nap, dinner, and a restful evening. Ironically, after I left a downpour broke out and most of the U.S. contingent departed early, leaving Texas speedster Prezel Hardy to win the 100-meter final with only a few compatriots cheering for him.
(Photo by Joy Kamani, www.NSSF.org)
Friday, July 10
Race day. My race was at 6:20 p.m., the last event of the day. I slept soundly, took an early breakfast, and grabbed some bread and a banana to munch during the day along with my Granola bars. I went to the track at 2:15 and began warming up at 5:00, since we had to be in the call room at 5:45. I saw most of my competitors as I walked back and forth for 18 minutes on a 100-meter Mondo warmup surface specially installed for this meet. My heart rate, which had been 145 beats per minute as I nervously warmed up in El Salvador in May, was 125. I felt good and confident. I greeted (in Spanish) the only athlete against whom I had competed previously—Colombia’s José Montaña, who had beaten me by a minute in May.
My coach and I believed that I could walk the race in under 43 minutes, which could put me in medal contention. That’s 4:18 per kilometer. I knew that many of the walkers would start out too fast. Having walked about 2,500 kilometers in the last six months, I knew my 4:18 pace and was determined to let everyone else go.
Sure enough, a pack of a dozen walkers covered the first kilometer in 4:03. After the first lap I was in 20th place out of 29 walkers. My teammates, most of whom did not know my strategy, must have thought I was already out of contention.
After one kilometer, the lead pack slowed down and I, feeling comfortable, dropped my pace to 4:10 per kilometer. Soon I was speeding past struggling competitors who had spiked their lactate (i.e., the amount of lactic acid in the muscles). I was looking for someone to walk behind for a while, but everyone was going too slow. To my surprise, I left even José Montaña behind, reaching the five-kilometer mark in 21:00.
As I moved up, I kept my eye on the third-place walker, a Ukrainian who had once been 70 meters in front of me. With my teammates now screaming for me, I caught the Ukrainian in the sixth kilometer. I passed him too—but unlike the 16 athletes before him, he did not wilt, staying with me for 500 meters and then pulling away from me again.
I stayed close for a while, but in the eighth kilometer I could feel my legs wearing out. I walked that kilometer in 4:20 and the ninth in 4:18. With the Ukrainian no longer in reach, I completed the last kilometer in 4:26, feeling the intense disappointment of failing to win a medal.
My team thought my achievement was historic. My finishing time of 42:22 had broken the U.S. national junior record by 28 seconds. Before I could catch my breath I was pulled into a media interview, resulting in a feature story on the IAAF web site entitled “American Breakthrough in Race Walking.”
When I emerged from the call room tunnel, many of my coaches and teammates were waiting for me, shouting “USA!” I received congratulations from several professional Australian walkers with whom I had trained in Arizona during the winter; they had taken a break from high-altitude training in Switzerland to watch the race.
The comments from our coaches and athletes were especially touching. Several of them said they had never seen high-quality racewalking before and were amazed by what they had seen me do.
The compliments didn’t sink in much. My disappointment was obvious, as I felt that I could have won a medal had I not pushed the pace so hard. The sport psychologist asked if I would have felt different had I finished third. I told him that I had wanted to bring that medal home to show that the U.S. could be competitive in racewalking. He said that, even finishing fourth, I had captured everyone’s attention.
Saturday-Sunday, July 11-12
One of the most enjoyable parts of the trip is the chance to trade equipment with athletes from other countries. A brisk trading market leads to friendly interactions. Our gear was in high demand, so we had plenty of people approaching us and saying “Trade?”
When I walked at the World Race Walking Cup at Cheboksary, Russia in 2008, none of the Russians would trade. So I was happy when two Russians—the silver medalist in the racewalk and one of his friends—offered me a Russian team speedsuit, polo shirt, and T-shirt in exchange for my speedsuit.
As I waited in line at the cafeteria, my unopened USA backpack made me the center of attention. I ended up trading it for an Italy backpack. I then traded singlets with the Australian walker and T-shirts with a Spanish team member. Teammates said I could be negotiating more lucrative deals, but I wanted to make friends. I hope to see these people at international competitions for years to come.
I could relax and watch the last two days of competition, now that I had completed my own event. It was especially amazing to watch a Swede emerge from last place and barely beat two Kenyans in the men’s 800-meter final.
Instead of a closing ceremony there was a big, loud, crowded party at a local club. I said goodbye to a few walkers I recognized. At 3:00 a.m. we were on the bus back to Munich for our flight to the U.S.
Tuesday, July 14
I returned home today. For the first time I had the chance to see what people had been saying about my race. The Dyestat news editor had started an online discussion thread, calling me an “absolute stud.” A poll to pick the best performance of the week had me in second place. Former U.S. Olympians Allen James and Curt Clausen, frequent U.S. national team member Ray Sharp, and Australian walker Jared Tallent (a double medalist in Beijing) had sent personal notes. My Facebook page was overflowing with congratulatory messages. I still wish I had raced better, but I guess that even though I finished fourth people have noticed.
By that evening I was back at our nearby track for another 10 kilometers. The flight to Trinidad for Pan Am Juniors was just two weeks away.