Closing Out The Protocol:

"Your back's to the wall
That's the protocol
It's sequestering your spirit
Misleading us all.."

(from Dexter Holland's rejected entry into a "Bad Religion song writing contest")


I think it's finally time for me to stop posting on The Protocol. Why? Well, I won't be allowed to post on a blog from Torino, anyway, so I might as well stop right now.

I guess what I'm looking for, as the World Cup season begins, is the feeling of a weight dropping from my shoulders. I feel like there is something that I'd like to bring to and end, and since I can't just quit skating right now, I think I'm going to quit The Protocol instead.

Over the past few weeks, I've realized that there are no new issues left to bring up; that the same old abuses of power will continue to happen again and again, only in slightly different forms. And I'm just going to waste what's left of my energy on getting worked up over it.

Tonight, I have taken a few hours to post the last of my writing: Everything that was left, and that I felt was important to cover. From now until the end of the season, I intend to focus on my skating. Besides, I have to "save something for the book," right?

As I put The Protocol aside, I think about what this blog has been for me over the past year. It was not a "reflection in the ice," but rather "the truth beneath the ice." It was a sort of psychotherapy session, which US Speedskating deserved to see - and to participate in - before the entire speedskating community. I hope it was an eye-opening experience that showed some sports administrators the damage that their decisions and actions can inflict on the athletes in their charge.

I hope that The Protocol has been a story with which ex-idealists, ex-Olympics fans, and any frustrated former athletes can identify. I've tried to make it a presentation of logical arguments in the form of a punk-inspired rant against authority.

Most of all, it has been a record of my rage against all those people out there who have wrecked the Olympics for me, and have tried their best to wreck for me the sport of speedskating. I say "tried," because they have failed. When this season is over, I still see myself skating Oval Club training sessions after work, just for fun.

Could The Protocol be my contribution to sports reform? Maybe. I know there are a lot of people out there who secretly agree with most of what I've said about US Speedskating. But I don't see myself being seriously involved in sports politics after this season. I feel pretty exhausted and disgusted right now.

I've learned all that I came here to learn. Now let me finish this one last battle. Real life is calling my name!

---

I'd like to dedicate this blog to all my family and friends, to all my sources of inspiration, and to all the kids out there whose Olympic fairy tale has had an unhappy ending. I'll leave you all with one final bit of advice:

DON'T FOLLOW ANYONE'S PROTOCOL.

WRITE YOUR OWN!

How I Really Feel About the Olympics:

Making an Olympic team, or winning an Olympic medal, is the main goal for just about every speedskater. With my last shot at the Olympics approaching, how do I feel about the Games, at this point in my career?

I've come to the conclusion that the "O" word is merely an excuse I use to justify my lifestyle to my society. In order to leave cancer research behind- if only temporarily - I had to:
1. Be training for the Olympics, and
2. Have a reasonable shot at actually making the team.

There was a time in my life when the prospect of never making an Olympic team was devastating. But now, that's not the case at all. I find that there are a lot of other aspects of speedskating that make me much more motivated and excited.

If I'd had enough time to do my career over again, the World Allround Championships would have been the ultimate goal. Hands-down, no-contest: This competition truly determines the best speedskater in the world.

Another one of my dreams would have been to set a world record in some obscure weekend time trial!

One of the coolest things in this sport has been seeing my name on "all-time best" statistics lists. Setting a new personal best time is always fun, too.

I really feel that I don't need to go to the Olympics to be satisfied with my speedskating career. Not only have I accomplished more in my comeback than I ever thought possible, but I also have learned so many things about what really goes on in this sport. I've heard stories about the circumstances under which some people have been able to attach the title of "Olympian" to their names; dirty little stories about committee decisions, voting conspiracies, and court battles.
I know I'm not a "worse speedskater" than someone who has gotten to go to the Games because of such things.

Will I be sad if I don't get to go to the world's largest corporate sponsored party? I won't cry too much. As far as huge, festive gatherings go, I can always go to the Warped Tour. I've also enjoyed scientific conferences. But, honestly, the prospect of going to the Olympics is something I'd look forward to with a certain amount of apprehension. It's not really my scene. You have to wear only the clothes you're given! And you're not allowed to write on blogs!

Still, there are reasons why I might like to go to the Olympics. It would be a learning experience. The Olympics are presented to us as one of those ultimate goals of youth. I'd love to experience the Games first-hand, to be able to make a final comparison of image and reality.

The Olympics must also contain lessons to learn about human nature, and about myself. How would I respond to an environment that seems to reek of conformity and totalitarian control? And, as far as race performance goes, would I be able to deal with the pressure and the distractions?

For me, achieving peak performance at the Olympic Trials in December is an intellectual challenge. Though I do not think I will fail at this task, I also do not see the Trials as a life-or-death situation. If there's anything intimidating about me as an athlete, it should be my own cavalier and disingenuous attitude towards the Games. I'm not taking the 2006 Olympics too seriously because I know that no matter what happens in the coming weeks, I'll be leaving this sport stronger and better off than I came into it in 2001.

Why Eric Heiden is Still a Hero for the Cynical Ex-Olympics Fan:

When I think of the greatest accomplishment in Olympic speedskating, I think of Eric Heiden winning the gold in all 5 events in 1980. But I can't admire an athlete for his accomplishments alone. I need to know something about his motivation. I need to know why he won. Did he do more than just "win the genetic lottery?"

Those of us who have traveled with the US Speedskating Team in the past few years have had the good fortune to spend some time with Dr. Eric Heiden. He sometimes travels with us as our team physician.

But it was only recently that I became interested in finding out more about his skating career. From the articles I found online, the thing that struck me the most was that Heiden was the perfect example of someone who didn't believe it was necessary to turn off his mind in order to be a great athlete.

I found out that the media didn't like him all that much; that he had a hard time compromising; and that people said that his attitude towards his 5-gold-medal performance was "cavalier, cynical, and disingenuous." I learned that he liked being "obscure in an obscure sport," and that he liked speedskating best when he was still a "nobody."

And then there was the controversy over the carrying of the torch in Salt Lake City...

Many people criticized Heiden for insisting that he be the last torch bearer -- the person who lights the actual Olympic cauldron. When that honor was instead bestowed upon the 1980 USA hockey team, he said he was "busy" and couldn't be one of the "other" torch bearers.

But some bloggers came to Heiden's defense. I found the following message posted on adequacy.org back on February 15, 2002:

"I despise the Olympics. I despise the lie that is "the Olympic spirit." I despise NBC (the US TV network that provides coverage for us USians).

I like Eric Heiden."

The author, who gives his name only as "doofus," goes on to defend Heiden's refusal to compromise on his position in the torch relay.

Doofus's brother answers his message with the following:

"I like Eric Heiden, too. He is such an exceptional person; Olympic multi-gold medalist and record holder, excellent bike racer and also an MD. He is a cool guy because he isn't a dumb jock or a spoiled brat prima donna.

He should be a good symbol to light the torch because of his accomplishments; those hockey players got lucky ONCE and never did shit with their lives afterwards, but since they beat the fucking Russkies 22 years ago in a Cold War Olympics and because we are now in a hot war on terrorism with an "Axis of Evil" then they win the honors."

I agree. Eric Heiden is a symbol of true Olympism; an individual whose achievements can inspire a person anywhere in the world. USA Hockey, on the other hand, seemed to represent a victory that indicated that God's favor rested with this particular superpower known as the USA. That was just what "Dubya" was looking for, if you ask me.

USA Hockey's victory over the Russians in 1980 may have been a "miracle," but Eric Heiden's 5 gold medals in speedskating demonstrated one man's tremendous determination and strength of will. It may be possible for a person who has brought himself to a certain level to win one race on "a charged atmosphere," such as that which seemed to carry the hockey team to victory. But it's not possible to win 5 races in the same Olympics in this way.

Am I surprised that the Salt Lake Organizing Committee did not choose Eric Heiden to light the Olympic cauldron? No, I am not. Do I consider him arrogant for turning down their consolation offer? No way!!! In fact, as a "Bribery Scandal Victim," I felt a surge of triumph when he shot them down for relegating him to the ranks of "also-ran."

In and of itself, the selection of the 1980 hockey team over Heiden for the lighting of the Olympic cauldron represents the victory of both politics and commercialism over the true meaning of the Olympics --( whatever that is, and whether it ever existed outside the minds of pre-teenaged children is another question.)

Back in 1980, after his victories, Eric Heiden dismissed the Olympics as "overrated." Were people right to call his attitude cavalier and disingenuous? I'd say that Heiden was an athlete who went into the Olympics with his eyes wide open, and without turning off his mind. I'd say his perspective on the Games was very mature for a 21-year-old.

I still don't know if Eric Heiden would be flattered or offended or merely annoyed that someone like me admires him. But I, too, aspire to be the kind of athlete who'd be admired by people who despise the Olympic Games.

Who Knows Eva's Real Hometown?

Every time I do well in a major competition and there's a press release that mentions my name, I am assigned a different hometown. For a few years, I listed my hometown as Woodhaven, Michigan, which is where my parents live. Then, I started giving my hometown as Kearns, Utah, because that is where I've lived for 5 years, and that is where I own a home. After this year's Fall World Cup Qualifier, US Speedskating gave my hometown as Naperville, Illinois, which is my place of birth.

As long as I've been watching the Olympics, I've sensed that an athlete's hometown is very important to that person's story. I have never felt that I have a "hometown," for example, in the sense that Bonnie Blair had a hometown. On the other hand, I feel that my almost nomadic lifestyle is truly representative of the lives of many of my fellow Americans.

What is the place that you should call your "hometown?" Is it your place of birth? Is it the place where your family lived the longest while you were growing up, or is it where your parents live now? Maybe it has nothing to do with where your parents choose to live. Maybe your hometown is the place where YOU have chosen to live. Maybe it is the place where you have formed most of your own personal and professional connections.

My brother Mark and I were both born in Naperville, IL - a suburb of Chicago. Since then, our family has lived in Kokomo, IN; Muskegon, MI; Mason City, IA; and Woodhaven, MI. Dad was a general practice physician who worked at various urgent care clinics; Mark and I used to joke that "Dad must have worked in every urgent care center along the I-94 corridor between Detroit and Chicago."

After graduating from the University of Michigan-Dearborn in 1999, I went to grad school in Duarte, California. From there, I took a leave of absence in 2001 to come back to competitive speedskating in Salt Lake City.

As far as speedskating goes, I got started in the sport while my family lived in Muskegon. I still have many friends in the West Michigan Speedskating Club who follow my skating career.

I don't feel too much of a connection to Woodhaven, Michigan, even though my parents live there. I feel more like I belong to the places where I have chosen to live and to work, which have been Southern California and Salt Lake City.

I'm not anyone's "Hometown Girl," which can be taken as either a good thing or a bad thing. I think it's good; all the more evidence that everything I have done in this sport, I have done on my own. But even though I belong to nobody, my story belongs to everybody.

A Swedish Garage Band: Another thing you can't have in a Hilton hotel room

Right now, at Mama Eva's Boarding House, we have a Swedish garage band. Last week, 7 Swedes and their coach arrived in Salt Lake City for a training camp. A couple of the skaters also happen to be great guitar players.

Upon arrival, the guys assembled my drum set, which hadn't been used for months. Then they took my invincible Ibanez and amplifier down into the garage and started playing. Soon, their coach, Andreas, joined them (playing the bicycle pump) and I brought in one of my clap skates.

If we can borrow a few more real instruments, maybe we can play some songs for the World Cup banquet. If not, then we'll just have fun making noise in the garage.

The reason why I've had to help these Swedish skaters find housing is that no other options are available. This group of skaters, who normally train in Gothenburg, came to Salt Lake City for a three-week camp and needed a cheap place to crash. One of the skaters, Joel Eriksson, had trained here before, and asked me to help his team find places to stay.

Though I've been busy getting ready for the World Cups, I managed to find rooms for all of them. I would like to thank local LDS (Mormon) Bishop Vance and Bishop Soto
for helping me to find host families for the skaters. I'd also like to thank David Graham, and Todd and Lisa Ruitman, for hosting several of the Swedish skaters for these three weeks. Thanks also to the Utah Olympic Oval for the use of your 15-passenger van to pick the skaters up from the airport.

I've also heard that Boris Leikin is hosting several members of the Russian speedskating team. This is the kind of thing that has to happen when there is no official athlete housing close to a major competition and training venue.

Paranoia Doesn't Pay:

I really need to stop worrying about all the "crap." It's not helping me. I shouldn't have gotten all upset that I didn't get to skate the 1500 in Calgary; I know that it's the policy to let someone who is already there skate the race if the person who owns the spot chooses not to skate.

What I need to do is to focus on my own skating; to worry about my own results and not on other people's decisions. I've been skating well, so what's my problem?

I should know better than to keep trying to find examples of how US Speedskating is out to get me. It's not just me, after all. I believe they have a deeply ingrained attitude of exclusion towards outsiders in general.

As far as the results from Calgary go, here's how I really feel about Maggie Crowley's performance: What an awesome 3K! A 4:05 will most likely earn her a spot on the Olympic team. The coolest thing about her performance is that it's an example of the victory of training right over pseudoscientific BS.

I wonder how USS feels, after having spent an estimated $50,000 on each of its athletes (numbers are from a newspaper article on Shani Davis and sponsorship) to have such a fast 3K time posted by someone who, as far as I know, still commutes from a suburb of Chicago to skate at the Pettit; someone who has no access to high altitude chambers or any of that other stuff on which USS spends so much of its money.

Really! It's OK to spend $50,000 per athlete on negligible (if any) results! Right???

These Fall World Cups are the Olympic Trials for the distance skaters. Now is the time for them to post some impressive times. I know that the results from these World Cups will definitely "shake up the fishbowl" around here. Just a week ago, there was a bunch of gossip going around about me supposedly peaking early. In response, I started thinking, "How could they think I'm being so stupid about my training?" Now, apparently, there's a lot more for "them" to worry about than some sprinter going 4:16 in the 3K while under a training load.

A Simple Exercise in Ranking and Team Selection

I'd like everyone to check the results from the World Cup Qualifier in Milwaukee last month. Pay close attention to the women's 1500 meters. Tell me where Eva Rodansky placed. Then tell me where Margaret Crowley placed. Now please tell me why Margaret Crowley skated the 1500 meters at the World Cup in Calgary this weekend. Not that she skated poorly, mind you. But that doesn't make it right.

Somebody is going to hell for this...

OH WAIT. She was already there for another event, so I suppose this was USS's prerogative.

Whatever.

Oval Corporate Events: An Antidote to "Toxic Mafia Atmosphere"

Here at the Utah Olympic Oval, companies or various other groups can rent out the facility to host parties. Usually, the group comes in the evening for a nice dinner, followed by all kinds of fun activities, such as hockey, curling, and skating. Sometimes, a few of us speedskaters are invited to give a demonstration of our sport.

A few months ago, I was asked to participate in an event put on for Workforce Services on October 25th. I love to do these kinds of events because it's so much fun to demonstrate speedskating to people who have never seen the sport. The best part is getting to meet the people and to answer their questions.

Even though the Workforce Services party was to take place a couple of nights after my return from the Fall World Cup Trials, I decided to do it. We don't always get paid for our participation, but this time, the orgainzers were going to make sure that the three of us (me, National Team member Clay Mull, and bobsled/skeleton/speedskater Jeremy White) would be well-compensated for our time.

Upon my return from the Milwaukee trials, as anyone who has followed my blog knows, I was feeling a bit down about the speedskating environment. How can I explain this in terms that are easily understood? Well, if you've seen my friend Andrew Love's post on the 3-letter acronyms that could be used to describe various aspects of the sport, especially when it comes to excuses for poor performance, then you'll get this. I've come up with my number-one favorite acronym for my speedskating experience: I must have been suffering from TMA, or "Toxic Mafia Atmosphere."

After skating my afternoon workout on the 25th, I wondered about my attitude as I prepared for a night of playing the Olympic hopeful. Would I be able to pull it off, or would my cynicism show through?

As it turned out, there was nothing to worry about. In fact, skating for the Workforce Services party was the best thing that could have happened to me at that time. The people were absolutely wonderful. They had never experienced speedskating up close before, and had never had the chance to actually meet athletes who had a chance to make the Olympics. The one thing I kept hearing over and over again was, "I never knew this was so cool!"

The first thing that Clay, Jeremy, and I did for the group after they arrived was to give a speedskating demonstration. We went out on the ice all decked out in our racing gear and showed them drafting and lane changing, followed by a couple of exhibition races. Jeremy and Clay skated a 500 together, and I did 1000 meters on my own.

Following the skating demonstration, we handed out bobble-head speedskater pins to each person in attendance. Getting to meet all of these people, who had come from all over the country to attend this event, was an amazing experience. They wanted their pictures taken with us. They wanted to shake our hands and wish us the best of luck. They were so excited to be able to make a connection with Olympic hopefuls.

They even asked us if we had anything they could buy in order to help support us in our training. Jeremy was the only one who came prepared for this -- he had had T-shirts made up with his picture on them, saying, "Prepare for the next ice age!"

When our new fans found out that Clay and I had nothing to sell, many of them simply opened their wallets and started to make donations to us. At first I did not know whether I should accept their donations, because I was not used to being treated in this way, but then I realized that it would be insulting not to accept their help. Their generosity was totally unexpected; it almost brought tears to my eyes. By the time we had met all of the people at the party, Clay and I had literally stuffed a wad of bills into our skinsuits.

At last it was time for dinner. We got into the buffet line, loaded up our plates, and each of us was immediately invited to sit at a different table. It was weird to eat dinner wearing a swiftsuit and warmup jacket, but nobody paid attention to that. Our new fans had so many questions for us. They wanted to know whether we had a special diet, how many hours a day we trained, what types of workouts we did, and how we supported ourselves financially. I love the appalled looks I got when I told people that World Cup skaters are expected to survive on stipends of $150 a month. A lot of people were surprised by my education, and by the fact that I had worked in science while competing on the World Cup circuit.

That night, I learned a lot about myself and about the people I'd like to represent as an American Olympic hopeful. I learned that, despite all of the negative experiences I've had in this sport, I'm not cynical towards either the sport itself or towards our would-be fans. Nothing about that night was fake; neither the support of the people, nor my love for the sport, nor my interactions with the fans.

Participating in that corporate event was so much more than just an opportunity for me to make a good amount of money in a couple of hours. It was an antidote to the "Toxic Mafia Atmosphere" that I had felt in Milwaukee at the trials. For those two short hours, I felt like I had started with a clean slate in the sport of speedskating. These people weren't looking at me like a troublemaker whose name had been dragged through the mud for the purpose of someone else's agenda. No, they saw me as the kind of person whom they expect to see in this sport: A nice, wholesome, hard-working Midwestern girl. And why did I feel so much at ease in this role? BECAUSE THIS IS WHERE I STARTED. This is what I always expected to be. This is what I was before I experienced the ugliness of sports politics.

It also became apparent to me that US Speedskating is dropping the ball when it comes to making a connection with the public. If these people were so excited to meet me, and I'm just a lowly World Cup competitor as of today, imagine how much they'd love to meet skaters who have actually won Olympic medals. If these people were so willing to come up and open up their wallets to give me a donation, then there are financial resources out there that are not being tapped by USS, for whatever reason.

But what I'd really like to do in this post is to thank Vince Iturbe and everyone involved in setting up the Workforce Services event at the Utah Olympic Oval. Thanks also to Jeremy White for inviting me to participate. Thanks to all of the people who showed us so much support that night. Sometimes I need to be reminded that some people believe I have value, as an American and as a speedskater.

A Club Worth Joining:

The Protocol would like to welcome two-time short track Olympian Erin Porter to the "Under-40-second 500 Meter Club," as she continues in her successful transition to long track.

A speedskater's first time under 40 seconds in the 500 meters is an achievement worth celebrating. Lots of skaters train for years without ever reaching this milestone.

I remember my first time under 40 seconds at the World Cup in Calgary last January. It was one of the most exciting moments of my speedskating career.

Having watched Erin train, I can tell you that she deserves to be skating this well. Her work ethic really sets her apart. So, way to go, Erin, and welcome to the under-40-second club: A club where membership is granted only to those who achieve, not to those who are "chosen."

Time Trials, November 5, 2005:

500 meters in 39:47
3000 meters in 4:16.75

Some days, it seems that every molecule in this universe that craves justice wants to line up in my favor.

Thank God for electronic timing. Everything else is bullshit.

Ray C. Rodent Speaks on the Synergy of Knowledge and Power:

Today's guest on The Protocol is the legend of Novice Skater Development, Ray C. Rodent! Ray C., who has made several appearances on pamphlets of the now-defunct Amateur Speedskating Union, is here today to share his experiences training and competing on the elite level, which some of you may be fortunate enough to reach some day. Please welcome Ray C. Rodent:

Hi, kids! My name is Ray C. Rodent, and I'd like to speak to you about the practical application of doing blind research studies on unsuspecting athletes, for the benefit of future generations of speedskaters. I, myself, have participated in such a study.

When I first found out that the worst season of my speedskating career had been the result of an experiment done on me without my consent, I was pretty disturbed, but as time went on and the results of this study were implemented, I began to see the light and the purpose of it all.

I mean, sure, it wasn't fun at the time it was happening to me; I remember something like skating 40 seconds off my personal best in the 3K, then going home, having a couple of shots of Jagermeister on an empty stomach and crying myself to sleep listening to "Race Against Myself," asking the eternal question, "Why do I skate like shit?"

But recently I've found that all of my efforts have not been in vain. In fact, it has been brought to my attention that the training data collected on me has been used for the greater good. This information has apparently been used to develop an invincible protocol for producing optimal performance in national level allround skaters! I'm so proud of my role in the development of this protocol that I will share it with you now:

1. Recruit a talented team by taking advantage of the federation's threats to withhold benefits from skaters who choose other training programs.

2. Carry out your normal training plan.

3. Look puzzled as several skaters' performance declines.

4. A week before the Fall World Cup Trials, a talented new skater materializes out of nowhere. Drop your team - which is failing to perform as a result of your program, and give all of your attention to the new talent.

5. Help the new guy make the team at the expense of your own skaters.

6. Justify your actions to the team you abandoned.
---

So, kids, don't get the idea that Ray C. Rodent feels any resentment towards the "next generation of speedskaters," who were supposed to benefit from data collected on him. On the contrary, his heart aches for them and for their dreams.

Injured Athlete in Limbo: He wanted to help me, but his hands were tied...

Let me tell you about my experience with U.S. Speedskating's screwed-up system for physical therapy.

I've been experiencing some tightness in my back ever since the Fall World Cup Qualifier, and have been trying to rehab it by stretching and icing the area as much as possible. This morning, I awoke with a pretty bad spasm on the right side of my back. It must have been hurting quite a bit; as I was out walking my dog, my palms started to sweat from the pain. "That's not good," I thought. "I'm supposed to race a 500 and a 3K this weekend; maybe I'll scratch from the 500."

Before coming to the oval for the race prep session, I tried to massage the spasm out of my back, followed by ice treatment. Then I put an Icy Hot patch on the area and went down to the oval to skate.

I had hoped to ask one of the trainers if he could hook me up to the "stim" machine, which runs an electric current through a muscle that is in spasm and helps it to relax. Stim treatment had always helped my injuries heal much faster. However, I was not looking forward to asking for help and being denied because I was not training with the National Team. I was pretty sure that this would happen, despite the fact that I had qualified to skate in the World Cups, while several members of the National Team had not.

Sure enough, this was the case. The trainer felt bad that he could not help me; in fact, he said that he had seen this problem coming, and had been emailing US Speedskating about this issue for several weeks already. His problem with the current system is that he wants to work with "the athletes who are winning," not with the ones who chose to train with a particular team.

I told him that I totally understood, and that I didn't blame him at all, just that I think that US Speedskating is totally f--ed up.

Next, I went up to the TOSH clinic upstairs, half-afraid that they would deny me a bag of crushed ice, but my fears were for nothing: The nice lady at the reception desk showed me where the ice machine and plastic bags were located and told me to help myself.

Since I don't have access to the team locker room, I took my bag of ice into the hallway outside the weight room. At least it was nice and quiet there. When I finished my ice treatment, I saw that the catering van was parked outside the oval, and that yet another meal to which I was not entitled had been provided for the Chosen Ones.

What more can I say? "Up your nose with a rubber hose, US Speedskating!!" I'm going to Taqueria El Rey De Oros and getting myself a burrito.