From: Biniam Tekle (biniamt@dehai.org)
Date: Fri Nov 20 2009 - 19:40:11 EST
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704204304574545691839032268.html?mod=googlenews_wsj
OPINION: THE WEEKEND INTERVIEW
NOVEMBER 20, 2009, 6:34 P.M. ET Running Man The New York City marathon
champion on running, religion and what it means to be an American.
By BARI WEISS
When Meb Keflezighi finished the New York City Marathon in two hours, nine
minutes and 15 seconds the morning after Halloween, he became the first
American to win the race in 27 years. But some spectators apparently missed
the three red letters on his chest as he burst through the tape. Keflezighi
is only "technically American," argued CNBC sports writer Darren Rovell.
He's "like a ringer who you hire to work a couple hours at your office so
that you can win the executive softball league."
Though Mr. Rovell has since backtracked, nobody recalls similar comments
about Alberto Salazar, the Cuban-born American who won in 1982. And if Meb's
name was Joe Smith and he was born in England rather than Eritrea, few would
have questioned his national identity.
When I meet Meb the morning after his appearance on the David Letterman
show—almost as great as winning the race, he quips—he is unbothered by the
debate raging on the Web about his American-ness. "What's the list of things
you need to be an American?" he asks rhetorically. "You live here, you pay
taxes, you live by the American way. I've been here for 22 years. I'm as
American as you can get."
As for wearing the USA tank top: "What a beautiful day to wear it on. In New
York, to win my first marathon in that jersey—it just gave me great pride."
Talking to the 5-foot-6-inch athlete as he is massaged, iced, stretched and
bent by his physical therapist on the Upper West Side, I could easily forget
that he is one of the fastest men in the world. Unlike so many other
professional athletes—huge in ego and stature—Meb is modest in both.
Which is not to say the 34-year-old isn't thrilled about winning his first
marathon. "My email is full, my texting is full, my voicemail is full," he
tells me with an incredulous smile. "I was kind of late coming here because
for the first time since I got to New York I went to the breakfast place at
the Hilton. And it was nonstop: 'You're not leaving 'til I get this
picture,' or 'I need your autograph.'"
Yet he's quick to add: "It's a big honor. With fame and with winning comes
responsibility." Meb doesn't see the need to be a role model as a choice:
"You have to. People are following you whether you like it or not."
It's almost too convenient to chalk up Meb's character to his upbringing.
Nevertheless, like so many other immigrant success stories, understanding
Meb's parents and their values is essential to understanding who he is. He
puts it simply: "They molded me."
Born in 1975, Mebrahtom (his full name means "let there be light") grew up
in an Eritrean village with no electricity and no running water. Besides
poverty, Meb's parents, Russom and Awetash, feared for their family's safety
because of Russom's involvement with the Eritrean Liberation Movement and
because of the ongoing war with Ethiopia. Meb's father decided to flee. "He
walked all the way"—60 miles—to Sudan, Meb says. Russom eventually made his
way to Milan, Italy, where he worked to raise the money to bring his family
out of East Africa.
On Oct. 21, 1987, a date that rolls off Meb's tongue, the family immigrated
to San Diego as refugees with the help of the Red Cross and the sponsorship
of Meb's half-sister, Ruth. "Dad used to wake up at 4 a.m. so we could learn
English," Meb says. "He worked as a taxi driver and worked in restaurants to
be able to feed the family."
Meb adds, "You start on the bottom, work hard, and your dreams will come
true—and that's what happened. We have a very successful family because my
parents always emphasized using the opportunity you have to the maximum:
'There are a lot of people that don't have this opportunity, so make sure
you use it.' That stuck in our head."
They stressed school to their 11 children. "Sports was not in our blood or
in our family," Meb says. "So it was 'Do what you can and work hard. Your
teachers are your parents when you are at school. They want the best for
you, so make sure you listen to them."
Meb's oldest brother, Fitsum, was the trailblazer. He started ninth grade
not knowing a word of English. By the end of the year, he won the top
academic prize. The Keflezighis still have the tiny trophy 22 years later.
That ethic was key to Meb's success. "When I started running for the first
time—seventh grade—I wanted to get that A, just like my parents taught me."
Meb had never run in his native country and had no concept of running as a
sport. But his family's San Diego apartment was down the road from Morley
Field where the national Foot Locker high school championship is held. "When
I saw them running, the high school champions, I was like 'What are these
crazy people running for?' They're not chasing a soccer ball or anything
else."
Meb's two older brothers decided to take up the sport, he says, and "I just
followed in their footsteps." At 12, he ran his first mile. He clocked in at
five minutes and 20 seconds—with no training. Dick Lord, the PE teacher at
Roosevelt Junior High, called up the high school coach on the spot: "Hey, we
got an Olympian here."
Ron Tabb, who ran the marathon in 2:09 in 1983, saw similar potential in the
young runner. Meb recalls Mr. Tabb seeing him practice in 1992. "He said:
'You're going to be a great marathoner and make the Olympic team in 2000 and
be a medalist in 2004,'" Meb remembers. "So a lot of people did read my
future."
By his senior year in high school, he says, "I ended up being one of those
crazy guys running in the national championships." From San Diego High
School, he went off to UCLA. Bob Larsen, who has remained his coach until
today, offered the straight-A state champion a full ride. There he became a
four time NCAA champion. And in 1998, the year he graduated, he became a
citizen. Meb traces his success back to those years. "It goes back to high
school—you try to be the best high schooler there is, and then to be the
best collegiate runner you can be." Unlike team sports, "with running, it's
just you and what you decide to get out of it."
If Meb sounds old school, that's because he is. His message for young people
is simple: "Life is precious. Do something that is optimistic—that is good
for society. Don't sit on the couch." His heroes, other than the list of
American long-distance runners he rattles off (Jim Ryun, Steve Prefontaine,
Steve Scott, Eamonn Coghlan, Paul Tergat), are Jackie Robinson and his
parents. About himself, he says: "My God-given talent was discovering when I
could run 5:20. Not everyone can run 5:20 . . . I was definitely gifted, but
I have to work hard."
His determined training has helped him defy people's expectations. At the
2004 Olympics in Athens, Meb was ranked 39th out of 101 runners. He walked
away with the silver medal with high hopes for the Beijing Olympics.
The Olympic trials in 2007 brought no such victory. Not only did Meb not
make the Beijing team—he finished eighth—he fractured his hip during the
race. Then there was the terrible tragedy of Ryan Shay's death. The rising
marathon star and Meb's close friend suffered a massive heart attack during
the race. During this year's marathon, Meb crossed himself in the spot where
Shay went down.
"The darkest part of my running career was last year," he says. "I could
have easily hung it up." Was he tempted to retire, I ask? "Oh yea. I'm not
going to say I wasn't. I couldn't walk—I was crawling like a 10-month-old
baby," Meb says about his hip fracture.
Recovering from the injury took a year and a half of intensive therapy and
"hard work." But "hard prayer" was also crucial for Meb, who, like his
parents, is a deeply religious Christian. Though his training schedule
doesn't always allow him to make it to church every Sunday, he makes time
for prayer "every day before I go to sleep and every day before I get up."
He also uses the 15 minutes he spends in the ice bath for reflection: "Every
day in the ice bath is my God time," he says.
As he healed from his injury "I really got to know who my friends are—who's
got my back." One of them is Bob Larsen, his coach for 18 years. "It's like
a marriage," Meb says about their relationship. He's "a great mentor."
Meb lives and trains in Mammoth Lakes, Calif., a hub for distance runners
because of the high altitude. Though the distance varies from day to day,
there is no escaping the reality that marathon training is every day,
approximately 130 miles a week. Sundays, Meb runs at least 20 miles,
sometimes up to 27 or 28 miles. Thursday is a recovery day, "which means you
run just 10 miles in the morning and then a few in the afternoon." Fridays
are a "simulation of what the marathon will be like: He runs "race pace or
faster anywhere from eight to 15 miles." He also bikes and lifts weights,
though he has to be careful not to build up too much muscle. "For 26.2
miles, you want to be a lean, mean machine."
"During practice," he says, "probably 90% is physical and 10% is mental.
When it comes to race day, it switches because you know your body is ready
and then you have to use your head to be able to perform."
To pump him up for this year's race, Mr. Larsen encouraged Meb to pretend he
was "going on a long run with his buddies. Relax for the first hour and get
to work after that." Marathons, Meb says, "are about patience and even
pace."
He followed that strategy on Nov. 1, sticking with the elite pack, even
allowing himself to drift a few feet behind the front runner. The wind, he
says, was the hardest part of the race. But Meb realized he was in a
fantastic spot as he ran up Fifth Avenue. "With two miles to go, I knew I
had it in the bank," he says. As he entered Central Park at 90th Street, he
saw his opening and pulled ahead of four-time Boston Marathon champ Robert
Cheruiyot of Kenya.
British marathon champion Paula Radcliffe has said that she sometimes counts
her steps during marathons—300 steps in a mile. "I do not count my steps at
all," says Meb. "I take in what the crowd is doing—screaming Go USA, or Go
Meb! The crowd is always going to get you through the good and the bad." And
the New York crowd, he says, is simply "the best that there is."
As Meb ran through the finish line to screaming crowds, he crossed himself
and kissed the ground. Seeing his wife, Yordanos, put him over the edge.
"When she saw me—I can't put it into words," he says. "Here's a guy that
couldn't walk, that couldn't turn in bed because of my hip fracture . . . so
when we saw each other we just broke down in tears." Meb credits his wife,
who is also a native of Eritrea, as critical to his ability to perform. "She
is seven months pregnant, we have two kids, and I'm the one who's taking a
nap. She's very unselfish. She's been a big part of this success." When he
met her, right before the 2004 Olympic trials, "we just clicked about God
and family and perseverance."
As he allows his body to recover—with ice baths, eating the right protein,
and physical therapy—he is focused on his next races. The 2012 Olympics are
a clear goal. Many are speculating that he might go for a win in Boston this
April. "I really think I can do it. I've done it once and I finished third.
Now I know the course and I'm healthy." How much time can he shave off? "The
body can do amazing things. I still believe my best times are ahead of me."
Meanwhile, he's savoring his win. And next week, he'll be back to New York,
this time for the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. Meb will be riding with
Miss America—on the Statue of Liberty float.
*Ms. Weiss is an assistant editorial features editor at the Journal.*
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