Maryland Senior Olympics, 2008 |
Today if I
am able to walk 400 steps and stand up from sitting 36 times, I call it a
successful day physically. But this wasn’t always the case. I had a lifetime of
trying out different sports—doing well in some and mediocre in most of them,
but enjoying them immensely while I was participating in them. I am pretty
proud of my last real effort at serious athletic adventure—track and
field—which I participated in from 2007-2012.
My last
track meet was in September 2012 at the 37th Annual Potomac Valley Games
in Falls Church, Virginia. I would get up early on a Sunday, eat a light,
protein rich breakfast, pack some snacks, Gaterade, water, and my shot put and
discus then drive across town to the track and field meet at Falls Church High
School. Rarely were there any women in my age class. Typically, the meet was
populated by high school aged track stars who were interested in getting some
extra practice in. Young men in their 20s and 30s gathered to do the 100 meter
dash. For the field events, discus and shot put, mostly older men, even in
their 80s, were common. I won three gold medals that day in shot put, discus,
and the 100 meter dash, but it wasn’t my personal best. I’d done much better in
previous years, but nonetheless I enjoyed concentrating on my event and was
elated when it was over. How I ended up doing something slightly unusual is due
to a number of fortuitous events.
In 2005, I
was in way northern Svalbard on the AMASE Expedition (see earlier blogs on
AMASE). Our ship, the M/V Polarsyssel, was anchored in Bocfjorden in clear view
of Sverrefjellet volcano and the Devonian-aged red beds that looked like Mars.
We’d spent the day on Sverrefjellet examining the unusual rocks called
xenoliths that come from deep inside the Earth’s mantle—tens of kilometers
below the surface. These xenoliths are apricot to apple sized sphere-shaped
rocks with a core of green minerals that are mostly olivine—which as this
mineral’s name implies is green--surrounded by black volcanic basalt. Each year
on AMASE, our fearless leader Hans Amundson and the crew planned a barbecue for
everyone that took place on the shore directly adjacent to the ship. On this
particular year, one of the Norwegian scientists was celebrating his 40th
birthday.
AMASE barbecue on shore. Marilyn in blue down jacket, center 2005 |
There is an
old saying “when the Norwegian takes the cap off the Aquavit bottle, he throws
it away.” Well, maybe it’s not a real ancient saying in Norway, but I’d
observed this to be true.
The
birthday party continued from early evening to early morning. As the senior
woman on board ship, I felt a sense of motherliness in watching how people were
behaving. Around 3 am, one of my younger colleagues was bundled into her bunk
after some drama that included some tears and some ragged laughter. After she
was safely in bed, I needed a last breath of fresh air and headed back to the
upper helicopter deck where the birthday celebrant and our resident artist were
smoking cigarettes. The ship was illuminated by early morning light that graced
the towering volcano. It was magical. I recall standing next to the birthday
boy on one side with artist Eammon Shaw on his other side staring at the
mountain and taking in its beauty.
Suddenly, I
found myself on the hard metal deck of the ship. I was bewildered then realized
that my colleague, who was obviously still very much under the influence of the
Aquavit, had thrown me down. WTF?! Eammon was also manhandled down as well but
he fought back. He was uninjured, but I, on the other hand, struggled to stand
up. This one brief incident caused years of pain, surgery, and jump-started my
track and field career.
Carnegie Team, 2005, day one of torn ACL and MCL |
After two
knee surgeries to repair two ripped ligaments (my ACL and MCL), I began a long
period of recovery with weekly physical therapy. I was out of work for about a
month and worked as much as I could from my laptop sitting on my bed. When my
physical therapy ended in 2006, I joined an exercise group at my local YMCA in
Silver Spring Maryland. The group met at 7 am three times a week. The leader
was a Vietnam vet with a white ponytail and leg warmers. My fellow exercisers
were mostly in their 70s, if not older. The class worked for me to get me going
but eventually I need something more.
The YMCA
had a bunch of personal trainers and I was assigned to Anthony Segun Sokenu, a
young man who hailed from Nigeria and came to the United States in high school.
His nickname amongst his peers was “Black” and during his college years he was
a super Decathlon athlete mastering all ten of the track and field events.
Anthony is an Olympic class athlete, but owing to a pulled muscle, he was
unable to qualify for the Olympic trials in his last year at University. This
misfortune for Anthony benefited many more people in so many ways. Anthony’s
day job was working for Special Olympics of Washington DC where he works with
young people who are developmentally disabled, but often physically able.
Anthony Segun Sokenu and Marilyn consulting during track meet, 2008 |
I was a
different challenge for him. As a high-functioning adult in terms of mental
capability, I was a pathetic specimen of an older female who couldn’t run 100
feet without collapsing in exhaustion. Anthony took me on as a special case. We
met twice weekly at the YMCA gym and fields for a year. He was pushy and
demanding as well as patient and understanding. By the end of 6 weeks, I was
running and walking a mile. By 8 weeks, I ran my first mile without stopping!
It was a redletter day for both of us. We paired our running exercises with
strength training in the gym. I became a bit of a gym rat with my weightlifting
gloves, spandex pants, and Nike t-shirt. After 9 months, I ran my first 5k race
and finished without walking, albeit at a slow comfortable pace. I could bench
press 80 pounds easily.
Anthony’s
strategy worked. After the serious physical training, in 2007 I was able to
summit the Sverrefjellet volcano once again without a problem! I was jazzed and
kept continuing to build my strength and abilities.
Hans and Marilyn summiting volcano, 2007 |
One day in
2008, Anthony said, “I’d like to ask you a question. “
“Sure,” I
answered.
“Are you
just in this for fun or would like to take this seriously? Are you interested
in perfecting this as a sport?”
I stammered.
I’d not considered doing anything more serious than a few 5k runs and some
weights. “What do you mean by that?” I asked.
“Let’s take
this to a new level,” he answered. “Have you considered training for something
further?”
“Like
what?”
“How about
something like the shot put? I think you could do it and be good at it. It’s
something to work for. Take things to a
more competitive level.”
I thought
about for a minute then answered, “Let’s go for it!”
We embarked
on a training regimen three evenings a week for the next 4 years. One day we
did track and field specific work. The shot put requires minute adjustment to
position along with strength, flexibility and coordination. I needed to work on
all of these aspects. One day we worked in the gym on strength and flexibility.
The 3rd day we had fun—played tennis, went for a fun run, learned
golf and soccer skills, played basketball. I was ready in September 2008 for
the Senior Olympics of Maryland.
It was a
sunny morning with cool temperatures for September on the east coast. I awoke
early—nervous and excited. I stopped off at a local 7-Eleven and downed a Red
Bull energy drink. I was pumped. I arrived, registered, then headed to the shot
put circle where a few other “senior” women were warming up. As we got nearer
to the competition, my son Evan and his buddy Nick Smith Herman arrived to
photograph and video the event. Coach Anthony came as we were starting.
You get
three tries at shot put in a formal meet. Your best score---the greatest
distance you were able to heave the metal ball--is your final score. The
strategy is to make sure your first throw is “safe”—no faults, no going outside
the shot put circle, just a good attempt. Your second throw is one with your
best energy. With each throw, you shout out a loud “Eeee-yah!” The third
attempt should be when you put it all together—technique, energy, and
perfection. My third attempt was my best. The judges huddled together to
compare the scores of about 6 women in my age class. I was awarded the Gold!
The
following year Chris and I went west to Stanford California where I
participated in the National Senior Olympics. People from all 50 states gather
for the Nationals. While I did “OK”, very fit and strong women who really knew
how to throw a shot put seriously outranked me. Usually, they had started the
sport during high school. I was on the more unusual side, starting as a senior
myself. It felt so invigorating to be participating in such a large event with
people of all abilities pushing themselves as they could.
National Senior Olympics, 2009 |
Anthony
“required” me to sign up for no fewer than three track meets per year as well
as several 5k races. It kept the pressure up to maintain my skill levels.
Monthly, we “ran hills”, a day of extreme exertion in which I ran repeatedly up
a fairly steep hill to train for the 100 meter dash. Typically, we trained
during the year at a local high school track in Northwest DC.
I recall
fondly hearing some kids in the bleachers shout out, “Man, that lady sure is
fast!” I may not have been actually that fast—but you could see I was giving it
my all.
Given where
I am now, those days fill me with great pleasure. I was so fortunate to have
taken the time and made the relationship with Anthony to be a senior track and
field medalist.
2009, Maryland Gold Medal |
Looking
further back, I spent about 5 years learning shuri ryu karate with a women’s
karate group in Takoma Park Maryland taught by Sensei Deb Friedman. I was
practicing with the group for many months before I realized that this was
mostly a gay women’s class. The strictness of the sport and the social
interaction with women outside my normal sphere was eye-opening. We scientists
tend to stick together without a particularly wide social network. I learned even
more when a mother-daughter pair joined our group. Elizabeth, a high school
student, has Downs syndrome. It was a challenge for Deb and our class to work
with Elizabeth, but at the end of the day, we learned much more than just
karate moves. As a group, we made our way from white to yellow to blue to green
belts, taking regular tests and mastering techniques. None of us were super
karate women, but we had a wonderful time meditating, working out, and being
together. The Zen of karate and the camaraderie with these women made a
permanent impact.
After my
separation and divorce in the 1980s, I learned sailing with my friend Nancy
‘Nat’ Peters. We learned a few basic moves on a 470-cm (about 14 feet), small
sailboat from her brother Eugene, then practiced a couple nights a week out on
the Chesapeake Bay by ourselves. The ‘470’ is not a forgiving boat. When the
sail comes around for making a turn, you needed to hit the deck or suffer being
swiped over board by the boom. One evening when we were returning to the dock,
a puff of wind capsized our boat. We had been slightly careless and did not
have our life jackets on. The mast of the main sail stuck in the Bay’s gooey
mud—we had “turtled” and were stuck. Hard stuck. We scrambled for our life
jackets and clung to the up-turned boat. Fortunately a couple of guys came by
in a motor boat and pulled our ‘470’s mast out of the mud, picked us up, and
towed the boat to shore.
These were
glorious evenings. We’d leave DC after work, sail out in the Bay for a couple
hours. It was a great workout—vaulting from side to side as we tacked, leaning
way out to balance the boat, and managing the sails and lines. We capped off
the evening at a local restaurant with a couple of Miller Lite beers and
burgers. On Saturdays, Nat and I raced the boat competing with about 10-12
other ‘470’ sailors. Although we were usually the slowest boat, we finished
every race. Racing provided a real sense of accomplishment.
In later
years, Chris and I went in on purchasing a larger boat—a Lightening, a 19-footer—with
our friends Charles and Nabeel. With young kids, only one of us could sail
at any one time. We raced this boat a few times, and once came in first place in a
pretty decent field of competitors. But by this time in my life, however, children
took precedence over sailing. We gave up our share in the boat after a couple
years.
In
retrospect, my life of active sport extended from childhood football and
baseball games in our Jersey backyard with the Greenvale Raiders (the
neighborhood kids) as players through swimming butterfly for the Moorestown
High School team to competitive sailing, karate, and track and field.
I could
never have guessed that sports would be out of my reach as a senior. If you
have the chance to workout, do yoga, hike up a mountain, or play on a team, do
it! And do it with joy and gusto.
I’ll be rooting
for your team!