The Dream

“So many of our dreams at first seem impossible, then they seem improbable, and then, when we summon the will, they soon become inevitable.”

As I sit here and reflect over what has transpired in the past couple months, I am blown away by the range of emotions that I have experienced. I have gone through some of the lowest lows and highest highs of my life. At the beginning of December, I raced the CIM marathon and ran the slowest marathon I have run in over 3 years. I was devastated. I had come off the best training I had ever done, and can honestly say it was the most disappointing performance of my running career. I thought that my marathon journey had come to an end. I came to the conclusion that I needed a break from not only the physical toll of training, but also the emotional distress that it was causing deep within my soul. While I sat in the airport the day after my race, I got a text from my coach that said something to the extent that technically the Olympic Trials window was still open so we could give it one last shot. As soon as I read it, I felt the little flicker of fire that I thought had burned out, slowly reignite. Lucky for me, I had someone in my corner who believed in me more than I believed in myself.

For the next few weeks, my coach and professional runner himself, Donnie Cowart, and I took my training day by day. There were lots of hours spent cross-training to make sure I was able to keep my aerobic fitness up, but also making sure I was letting my legs recover from the damage it had endured during the marathon. It took me a solid two weeks before I could even get off the toilet without holding onto something (sorry for the TMI 😂). Running was simply out of the question. As I swam and aqua-jogged for hours on end, my mind always went back to the feeling I had after that race.. the feeling of disappointment, devastation, sadness, embarrassment. As awful as those feelings were, they were what drove me to press on. I knew I was capable of more and I had one final opportunity to prove it to myself.

After emailing the Houston Marathon and determining that there was no way to be accepted into the elite field (the application window had already closed), my coach and I did our own research and found what we believed was our best option. In a town neither of us had ever heard of, there was a tiny marathon that was both USATF Certified and USATF Sanctioned, was relatively flat, and was driving distance away. So just like that, we registered for the Aviation Marathon in Warner Robins, GA where total marathon participants, including us, was a whopping 55!

We slowly began to add running in the third and fourth week, but my mileage was still extremely low (as in less than 20 miles a week). I was only running when doing workouts and EVERYTHING ELSE was in the pool or on the elliptigo. Things were going fine, it was the beginning of a new year, and I was excited to see where this was all going to go…

And then, on Monday, January 6, in one instant, my life shattered. One of the greatest people I have ever known passed away completely unexpectedly. This man was the love of my life’s father, Andy Tamer. He was unlike any person I have ever known. He accepted all people, he never judged or complained, and he exuded love and kindness to everyone he came across. His impeccable character and nonjudgmental views are traits that I will always admire and strive to live my life by. I am still struggling to come to terms with the idea that I will never be able to see him again, but I decided that the best way to honor him is to live like him. His sons, Remy and Dylan, have the same heart and character that he had, and his wife Liza has awed me with her strength and resiliency. Life is so fragile. Things really can change in an instant. I will never understand why it happened, but at the end of the day, Andy has given me the strength and love that will allow me to keep going. Not a day will go by without me thinking of him, and that is exactly what will push me to become the best version of myself.

For the next few days, everything was a daze. I don’t remember much, but I do remember that my runs were by far the best part of my day. Donnie was doing all my workouts with me and for that hour or so of the day it felt like I could finally breathe again. My heart would stop aching for a brief moment and I savored it. It was as if the world was telling me that running wasn’t only about splits and times, but it was also about healing and finding a space to simply be. Running became my safe haven and allowed me to find peace, even if it was for only a tiny part of my day.

Soon enough, race week was upon us and on Thursday morning, Donnie and I drove 7 hours to Warner Robins, Georgia to give this dream of mine one last shot. While I was hesitant about how small the race was going to be, I think it actually played to my advantage. I didn’t have a huge expo to go to (you couldn’t pick up your packet until the day of the race), I had no other runners to compare to (except for middle-aged men with water belts), and being with my coach throughout the whole weekend brought me a sense of calm that I have never felt prior to a race.

Before I knew it, the gun went off and it was just me and Donnie…well actually there were a couple guys who went out like maniacs, but after mile 2, neither of them were to be seen again. It was a perfect day to race- cloudy and mid 40s, my favorite racing weather. I remember the first couple miles felt great, but Donnie soon turned to me and said, “We need to pick it up a little.” I tried not to panic and just stayed relaxed. I knew all I needed to do was stay with Donnie. Little by little, we started clicking off the miles, but by mile 7 my mind had started to wander to that place that we all go to in a marathon, how many miles do I have left? It was too soon for that and I knew it. Donnie was wearing a long sleeve shirt and on the back it said “Stay in the Moment”. I clung to that statement and tried to do just that. I simply focused on running one mile at a time. Maybe I’ll drop at mile 8…maybe one more, just get to mile 9. And then when we hit mile 10, Donnie turned around and yelled “We’re back in it! We can do this!” We had run our fastest mile of the day and his eyes lit up so bright that I can still vividly recall the look on his face. It was that extra burst of energy that I clung onto for the next 8 miles. If a 5:45 mile split wasn’t enough, (I think the mile markers were a bit off😏) I looked over and realized Donnie had taken his long-sleeve off and was wearing a t-shirt that read FLORIDA. He pounded his chest and yelled, “We can do this, AP!” When I looked at the back of his shirt, I almost cried. In big, bold letters, at the top of the shirt, it read ANDY TAMER. He also had different, little quotes written out like “one mile at a time” and “be willing to be uncomfortable”. He went as far as to ask some of my closest friends to say something and he had those sayings written above their names. For the rest of the race, I did not take my eyes off of the back of that shirt.

There were no spectators allowed on the course because the race takes place on an Air Force Base, so the only people I saw were other runners (half marathoners on their first loop) and volunteers. There was one specific group of women volunteers at a water station who cheered so loud that I wanted to stop and give them all the biggest hug. Any energy out on that course was needed and I soaked it in. We started dropping time left and right and part of me didn’t believe it when he yelled out some of our splits. How were we running 6:02 this mile, 5:58 that mile, how did the pace feel so relaxed? We had finally found the groove. We reached mile 18 at faster than goal pace and it was at that moment that I truly believed the dream was within reach. My right quad was beginning to tighten up, but I just kept focusing on the back of Donnie’s shirt. He told me to just get to mile 20. That’s all I had to do. So I soldiered on.

By the time mile 20 hit, both of my quads were locked up, but I knew that I had suffered before and I was willing to do it again. I do not remember much of the last 10k, but I do remember moments when I looked at Donnie’s face and thought, he still believes in me. I remember thinking of Remy and my family and how much they have given to allow me to pursue this dream. But mostly, I remember repeating the words Andy Tamer, Andy Tamer, Andy Tamer, over and over and over again. What would he do? Would he complain? Would he give in to the pain? He was so tough and I know he would have kept pushing. And so I carried on with as much determination as I could muster. When we got to mile 26, I remember Donnie yelled “Lose the gloves!”, “THIS IS IT!”, “YOU HAVE TO GO!” I took my gloves off, put my head down, and moved my legs as fast as I humanly could. With 100 meters to go, I saw the clock ticking 2:44:38…39…40… was this really happening!? 

When I finally crossed the line at 2:44:55, I was in complete and utter disbelief. I had just qualified for the 2020 US Olympic Marathon Trials, 36 hours before the window closed, with only 5 seconds to spare. It felt like a dream. The moment that I turned around and saw Donnie’s face is a moment that I will treasure for the rest of my life. We gave each other the biggest hug (I’m still bitter that nobody was able to capture it on camera), but that moment and that feeling will stay with me forever. Without him, none of this would have happened. If he hadn’t believed in me, if he hadn’t stuck with me through all the injuries, all the setbacks, all the things that life threw our way, I would not be able to say that I am an Olympic Trials Qualifier. Because of him, I achieved a lifelong dream and I am so grateful and honored to call him not only my coach, but also one of my best friends.

With my next marathon being 4 weeks away now, my coach and I have to be creative and flexible again when it comes to training. I have little niggles here and there from the race, and the main priority is going into Atlanta healthy and ready to race. As athletes, I think we have a tendency to constantly look ahead and set new goals, rather than soak in those rare moments when we achieve our greatest feats. While I am ecstatic to be competing in one month with the best marathoners in the US, I think it is vital to appreciate the moment I am in and embrace the feeling of utter joy and fulfillment that has come from achieving this long-standing dream. I feel both honored and humbled to simply be a part of the Olympic Trials experience. To have the opportunity to stand on the start line with runners who I have idolized for decades is truly a dream come true.

I recently read that when we have a dream, we cannot let anything stand in our way. At the end of the day, it doesn’t come down to who has the most talent, it comes down to who is willing to make choices that others are not willing to make. When you set high ambitions for yourself, all your choices matter. The hard things over the easy or comfortable becomes routine. The discipline and dedication to your one goal becomes all-consuming and most people don’t understand, but I have found that I have fallen in love with the journey and pursuit of new goals. It is in the chase toward big dreams where I feel most alive. As my coach says, small dreams don’t move mountains, and I can’t wait to keep scaling new heights.