Running for My Life: One Lost Boy's Journey From the Killing Fields of Sudan to the Olympic Games (22 page)

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m glad you’re here,” she said before turning and running back to a group of girls. I watched her the whole way back. Immediately I felt myself falling for her.

Over the next few weeks I had more conversations with Brittany at practice. None of them were anything earthshaking, but I felt myself being drawn more and more to her. The problem was, I had no idea how to approach her to let her know how I felt. Back in Kakuma, I would have asked my family of boys for advice. In Colorado Springs, I went to the closest thing I had to my family back in the camp.

One day during practice, Baby Mac, Kenny G, and I were out on the track running laps. When I run, I talk, so I confided in them. “Guys, I think I’m falling for Brittany.”

Kenny G laughed. “So you’re going for a cadet, are you? Well, that didn’t take long.”

Baby Mac joined in. “So, the big, bad pro athlete gets his heart taken by a little blonde runner, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so. What should I do?” I asked. “I don’t know anything about girls and relationships.”

“Who does?” Baby Mac laughed. “Just talk to her. Ask her out. You should go for it, man.”

I listened to his advice, and I really wanted to follow it, but I could not bring myself to say the words, “Will you go out with me?” At the same time, I could not hide my feelings forever. I knew eventually they would come spilling out. I only hoped I wouldn’t make a fool of myself when they did.

A few months later, after an especially hard workout together, I limped into the trainers’ room for an ice bath. They call these things baths, but only because you immerse yourself in water while wearing athletic gear. The trainers’ room is very cold and sterile anyway, like a medical facility. The ice baths make it that much colder. I hate the cold, and I hate ice baths even more. If not for the way they made my muscles heal, I would swear them off forever.

Both the men’s and women’s track teams share the trainers’ room. Even so, I was more than a little surprised to find Brittany in the room that day. She also had a difficult workout as a member of the women’s track team and needed to soak her sore muscles, just like I needed to soak mine.

The moment I saw Brittany my heart started to race. I started to turn around and walk out, but I knew I couldn’t. Ice baths were a crucial part of my training routine. With the Olympic trials just around the corner, I could not afford to skip them.

“Hi, Lopez,” she said. “How was your workout today?”

I could hardly hear her with my heart beating so loud in my ears. “Okay, how was yours?”

“Brutal, otherwise I wouldn’t be in here.”

“Same here,” I said. “Have you been in there long?”

“Just climbed in,” she said.

“Good,” I said. I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my head to keep me warm. I climbed into a tub on the opposite side of the room from her. Running track all through high school and college, I often found myself in the trainers’ room with members of the opposite sex. Even though you soak in the ice tub fully clothed, I always keep a distance between myself and the girls in the room.

“Good?” Brittany asked with a laugh. “What does that mean?”

“Well, I just meant, that will give us time to talk.”

“Oh,” she said with a funny little tone. “Is there something we need to talk about?” I did not know it at the time, but Baby Mac and Kenny G had already spilled the beans about me wanting to ask her out.

“Well, there’s, uh, new African restaurant in town.” I paused.

“Yes,” she said.

“So I was wondering, if you don’t have anything else going on, if you would like to go there with me on Saturday after practice, to, you know, eat something, er, lunch.”

“You mean, like on a date?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah,” I said.

“I would love to,” she said with a smile.

“You would?” I said, very excited. “Wow. Great.” After that, I never felt the cold of the ice bath. The two of us talked and laughed until my body went numb. I really hate the cold.

We went to the African restaurant on our first date. For our second, we went to a celebration in a community of lost boys and lost girls in Boulder. One of the girls graduated from college, which called for a party, Sudanese style. We danced and ate traditional dishes late into the night. I knew Brittany was something special when she joined right in, even though everything was foreign to her. This was the start of a very long and happy friendship for both of us. Brittany not only kept dating me, but she went on to study Anthropology of Southern Sudanese Culture at Oxford. She also became instrumental in helping me realize my dream of making a difference in Kimotong.

Even though I met Brittany in Colorado Springs, I reminded myself of the real reason I moved there: to prepare for the Olympic trials. I trained alongside the Academy track team and traveled with the team to several meets at which I competed. Traveling with the Air Force Academy was a new experience. The team did not take a commercial jet. Instead we flew in an AC-130 military cargo plane. Instead of comfortable seats, we strapped ourselves into seats that were a step above wooden benches. The roar of the engines echoed through the metal hull that was not insulated at all. Everyone had to wear earplugs to keep from losing our hearing. I thought my first trip with the Academy team would be a good chance to talk to Brittany. Boy, was I ever wrong.

I ran as a pro for the first time at the Adidas Classic in Los Angeles. I did not win, but I ran well enough to reassure me that I’d made the right choice in turning pro. However, the real highlight of the event did not take place on the track. After my event, I headed over toward the locker room to change out of my race clothes and into my warm-ups for my cool-down laps. I have to do the proper cool-down or my muscles will tighten and put me in danger of injury. My agent met me, and the two of us walked along talking about the race I’d just run. All of a sudden, my agent said, “Hey look. There’s Michael.”

“What?” I said, looking around from side to side.

“It’s Michael,” he said again. He pointed across the field to a tall, thin man dressed in jeans and a nice shirt.

My jaw hit the ground.

“Let’s go say hello,” my agent said.

Before I could reply, my agent had already taken several steps toward the man. Worse yet for nervous me, Michael appeared to be on his way over toward us!

“Michael,” my agent said, “I would like to introduce you to Lopez Lomong. Lopez,” he said turning toward me, “this is Michael Johnson.”

I felt like I had just stepped into a dream. Standing in front of me was the man who changed the course of my life eight years earlier without even knowing it. He looked very different live than he did on a small, grainy, car-battery-operated, black-and-white television. I looked up at him. He was much taller than he appeared on television.

“Mr. Johnson,” I said, my voice cracking, “it is an honor to meet you.”

Michael reached out and shook my hand, “Call me Michael,” he said.

“Okay,” I said. I could not wipe the goofy grin off my face. To me, this was like meeting royalty. “I watched you run in the 2000 Olympics while I lived in a refugee camp. I am a runner today because of you.”

“That’s kind of you to say, Lopez,” Michael said with a smile. “I know all about your story. I have to tell you, I’ve followed your career. You’re an excellent runner. I’m proud of you and all you’ve accomplished already. You keep running the way you are now, and you’ll be running in the Olympics yourself soon. I know you can do it.”

“Thank you,” I said. I walked away from the conversation, but I do not think my feet ever touched the ground.
Wow
, I thought to myself,
if Michael believes in me, I know I’m going to reach my goal.

My first professional win in the 1500 came at a Reebok event in New York. Later, I won the Sun Angel Invitational in Tempe, Arizona. I didn’t win my next meet, the Stanford Invitational, but I ran well enough to stay on track for my ultimate goal. At this stage, my goal was not to win but to hit the Olympic standard time of 3:36, which is also known as the A Standard. Once I hit this time, I would automatically qualify to run in the Olympic trials in Eugene, Oregon, in June.

My next chance to reach the A Standard came at the Carson Invitational in Carson, California. The race did not start out well. I took a nasty fall when I tripped in the first 100 meters of the race. Skin scraped off of my shoulder and calf, leaving me bruised, burned, and bloody. Luckily for me, the recall gun sounded because I fell so early in the race. I ignored the pain and chose not to notice the blood running down my leg. Instead, when the race started a second time, I focused purely on my goal. Whether I won or lost did not matter. All I wanted to do was to look up at the clock at the end of the race and see a time below 3:36 next to my name.

Four laps later, that’s exactly what I saw. I’d reached the first leg of my goal. I’d qualified for the Olympic trials. My dream was within my grasp. Now I just needed to make my final kick and grab hold of it.

TWENTY-ONE
Within Sight

T
he first injury of my career came two weeks before the Olympic trials. At the end of my workout while running in stride down the backstretch of the Air Force Academy track, something popped in the back of my right leg. I pulled to a stop. When I tried to take another step, pain shot up the back of my leg. My leg would hardly move. I hopped around on my left leg while trying to get the right to work. Coach Hayes ran over to me. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. I was working on pacing and my hamstring started acting up.” I could feel it pulling down the back of my leg, but at this point in the season I knew we could not afford an injury. I tried to play it down.

He looked concerned and told me to take a few days easy and get it taken care of right away. He knew hamstring injuries were serious. As a coach, he’d seen many runners pull a hammy and the effects. Basically, you can’t run with a hamstring pull. The leg tightens up when you exert it, and you are done. Rest is the best treatment, about two months of rest. We had two weeks.

Because of where I trained, I had lots of really good doctors and physical therapists nearby. The trainers and medical staff at the U.S. Olympic training center were amazing. They did an MRI to make sure it was only a hamstring. From there, I went to see a team of physical therapists who specialize in hamstrings. Over the next few days they used ultrasounds, ice baths, and pressure massages to try to get me back on the track. Coach Hayes insisted I consult the trainers at the Air Force Academy as well. They gave me a set of special exercises to do each day to release the tension in my hamstring and improve my mobility.

The therapy regimen loosened up my leg enough that I could run hills. With the trials right around the corner, I had to run to stay in tip-top shape. Running uphill felt fine. Coming downhill was a different story. I could not put weight on my right leg. But I had to keep training. The trials were too close to take any time off. Since I could not run downhill, I ran as hard as I could up the hill, limped back down, then ran up as fast again until I’d run my quota of laps for the day. Afterward I soaked in an ice bath, then let trainers rub down my leg until it felt like they were about to rub my skin completely off. Coach Hayes was concerned about my injury. I tried to keep it to myself. We had worked too hard for this to get in the way now. I just smiled at him and said, “Don’t worry, Coach. This is working. I’ll be fine by the time the trials start.”

“We leave for Eugene next week,” Coach Hayes replied. He was worried; I was not.

“Not a problem,” I said with a smile. Honestly, I never for a moment thought I would not run in Eugene. God had brought me this far. I was confident He had something bigger in mind than letting an injury stop me just short of my goal. For me, making the Olympic team transcended sport. Running for the United States on sports’ biggest stage would give me a larger platform on which to raise awareness for Sudan and to make a difference for the people there. I also saw this as my chance to give something back to the country that took me in and made me a citizen when I had no home. I was too close to let a little thing like a pulled hamstring slow me down.