Editor’s note: This interview includes references to sexual assault.

Kara Goucher is a two-time Olympian, who competed in the 5,000m, 10,000m and marathon, and is a World Champion Silver Medalist at the 10,000m. In 2015, Goucher went public with accusations that her former coach Alberto Salazar avoided antidoping rules with elite competitors in the Nike Oregon Project. violations, and is

In her new memoir, , Goucher sheds light on her journey through the Nike Oregon Project and reveals what it was truly like to be part of this highly funded, professional running team.

Sally Bergesen, CEO and founder of apparel company Oiselle, sat down with Goucher (who joined Oiselle鈥檚 athlete team in 2014, and currently works on the Oiselle Advisory Group) to discuss her decision to speak out, how she has moved on, and what we should all learn from abuses of power.

SB: Kara. This moment is huge. I know this because I鈥檝e seen you, over a number of years, go from resisting a book, to it happening. What was the turning point? Was there a person or moment who made you feel like this was the logical next step?

KG: [My husband] Adam and I had both talked about a book, especially around the Nike Oregon Project. But the personal thing was this: my story was taken from me numerous times, from other people. And interest continued. But I wanted to be the one to tell it.

Also, after the successful conclusion of the USADA and SafeSport investigations against Alberto, which took years, I started to heal. That closure gave me the power to share; the final piece to move on.

SB: Finding your co-author, Mary Pilon, seemed like a really important development. How did you find her, and how did those first conversations go?

KG: She鈥檚 a co-author, but so much more. A confidante, a friend, and someone who I trusted to tell the story in my voice. There would be no book without Mary. I never would have gotten it done. I would have focused on the wrong things. She helped me carve out what mattered, and what needed to be in there. She felt just as passionately about the book as I did, which was pretty special.

Mary鈥檚 brave, she鈥檚 outward facing, and fights for what she believes in. I feel like that鈥檚 the way I am, but I鈥檓 a little more guarded. Her whole thing was 鈥榳e either do it all, or we don鈥檛 do anything.鈥� I needed someone who was a little spicy. Someone who would say, 鈥淒ude, what you went through was really horrific. We need to tell it all, or we鈥檙e not really changing anything.鈥�

SB: Sports marketing (or marketing teams within sports brands), can be difficult places. I鈥檝e heard brands call athletes a 鈥榩roperty鈥� or an 鈥榓sset.鈥� Do you think this leads to dehumanization?

KG: You know me well. When I form a relationship, I鈥檓 dedicated and loyal to that relationship. When I was at Nike, they called it the Nike family. And the feeling was that these people were going to be in my life forever. It was probably naive or whatever. But that鈥檚 also who I am. When I do trust, I trust all the way. And then I learned I was never in a family. There was no family. It was just what could I do for them? When tides were turned, and things were hard for me, there was no support.

If you read my story, and you鈥檙e disturbed by what you read, then think about where you spend your money. And don鈥檛 let one inspirational commercial or marketing campaign make you forget what you read.

I feel badly that Mikaela Shiffrin faltered at the Olympics. And I feel badly that Simone Biles faltered at the Olympics. But I also think it opens up this conversation and realization that athletes are people. They have a lot of feelings and emotions. They have stresses, and things they love, and things they鈥檙e grappling with鈥攋ust like everyone else.

SB: There is a weird duality. Clearly, Nike has done a lot of good things in the world, but there does appear to be a pattern of not treating athletes as whole humans.聽

KG: Nobody’s perfect. Everyone makes mistakes, myself included. In the book, I talk about participating in locker room talk. I鈥檓 doing things that I feel gross about; nobody鈥檚 perfect. The thing I have a hard time with is there鈥檚 never an acknowledgment of wrongdoing from Nike. There was never a statement along the lines of 鈥測eah, the way we treated female athletes who were pregnant was a mistake. And we acknowledge that we did wrong by these women.鈥� Instead it was, 鈥淲e鈥檙e happy to announce that we鈥檝e amended our contracts.鈥�

They should have said, 鈥淵ou know what, we messed up. You know what, you鈥檙e right, Alberto Salazar should not be coaching women.鈥� Instead, they just quietly took his name off the building.

SB: The book release鈥檚 media swarm will focus on Alberto being a sexual assaulter. At the same time, in talking with you, I know you don鈥檛 want to be labeled a sexual assault survivor. Can you elaborate?

KG: Because that does not define who I am. Listen, if someone out there is a sexual assault survivor and they feel empowered by that, that鈥檚 great. But for me, personally, I don鈥檛 want him to have any power in my life. I don鈥檛 want people to look at me and say 鈥渙h she was damaged by Alberto Salazar.鈥� I mean, I could start crying right now. I am who I am. I got through it. I am happy. I am successful. I am fulfilled. He did not take anything from me. So that鈥檚 why I don鈥檛 want to be thought of as a survivor. I want to be myself; I want to be Kara.

SB: What your book does so beautifully is show how the brain compartmentalizes harm in order to survive. But this can also lead to staying silent, suffering, and delaying justice. Thoughts on this dynamic?

KG: I watched a powerful documentary, Phoenix Rising, about how Evan Rachel Wood fought in California to get the statute of limitations extended.

The fact is, we don’t know enough about how long it takes people to identify, deal with, and truly acknowledge their assault. Unless you鈥檝e lived through it, you can鈥檛 understand how complicated it is, how you can try talking yourself out of it鈥t can literally take decades.

I mean, When Bill Bach (counsel for USADA) told me that what happened to me was assault, I started shaking. Because I always envisioned sexual assault as something violent. I thought what happened to me was just a gross thing that happened, that I wish hadn鈥檛 happened. The realization was SO jarring. I cried the whole way home. I thought I was losing my mind. Once that came out, I could never put it back in a box. Ultimately, how everyone deals with it, and when they鈥檙e ready鈥攊s so different.

SB: Staying silent about harms can also be like swallowing a poison pill. You do it to protect others, but it can lead to your own mental, physical deterioration. Is that what you experienced, and how did you finally process it鈥攄eciding to come forward?

KG: I don鈥檛 know. But I will tell you this: I didn鈥檛 think I would ever say anything because I was worried about his family. It wasn鈥檛 until I started working with a therapist, that I realized, wait, my family鈥檚 suffering. I don鈥檛 know why I was thinking that his family was more important than my family. My child and husband are suffering because I鈥檓 not able to be the person I want to be; I鈥檓 having this anxiety, I鈥檓 worried, stressed. And as you know, there鈥檚 shame. I felt like I allowed this to happen, I didn鈥檛 say anything right away. I think a lot of victims figure it鈥檚 not worth the fallout.

SB: Can we talk about Adam? I came away from the book with a massive appreciation for Adam and his loyalty. I think it takes a really big person to undergo the transformation he did, in terms of being the better known Olympian in the early stages of your career, to dealing with聽 his own career-ending injuries, and then pivoting to support you. Not everyone could have pulled that off. Any reflections on that?

KG: I have apologized to Adam for that period of time. He was being treated horribly, and he could see through everything. And I was so torn. I was trying to keep Alberto happy, and at the same time, keep my marriage going. There were plenty of opportunities for Adam to get out, but thankfully, he didn鈥檛.

Adam knows everything about me, and he still loves me. That鈥檚 scary for some people. When I had to tell Adam, I had this feeling of betrayal, and keeping a secret from him. And that he was going to be so angry and so hurt. He was really fucking mad, but not at me.

SB: Whether it was the 2016 Olympic Marathon Trials, where you got 4th (a.k.a. 鈥渢he haunted place鈥�), or your near miss at Boston in 2009, what I know a lot of people appreciate about you is that you take BIG SWINGS and shoot for the top. On the flip side, when things don鈥檛 work out, you鈥檝e gone through yawning periods of darkness. Have you ever had times where you regretted taking those big risks?

KG: If you don鈥檛 lead yourself to a place where you鈥檒l be devastated if you don鈥檛 get it, I don鈥檛 think you鈥檙e living big enough. It has to mean everything. If you don鈥檛 get it, it鈥檚 going to hurt so much. What I remember the most about 2016, however, was how loved I felt. There were no strings attached. Everyone was so invested, and positive, but they wanted it for me. And I wanted it for me. Getting fourth will always make me cry because I wanted the outcome to match the love I felt. And my race result didn鈥檛 change my relationship with you, or Mark and Heather, or with Oiselle. In the past, it would have changed everything.

In 2009, when I didn鈥檛 win Boston, I was shattered. I still remember sobbing outside of Alberto鈥檚 hotel room, in the hallway. And a nice couple walked by me, and they were like, hey, you did GREAT. I actually saw this couple later, and we talked about it. But at the time, I was destroyed, and while my family loved me, the people I needed to hear it from the most, the coaches and staff, I didn鈥檛 get it.

SB: As you sit here today, at the moment of the release of The Longest Race, how do you feel?

KG: This day鈥檚 been coming for a long time. I feel good about the book. It鈥檚 accurate, it鈥檚 truthful, it鈥檚 what happened, it鈥檚 been through fact checking and legal. It鈥檚 time. It鈥檚 time for me to share and move on. Life isn鈥檛 comfortable. Life is messy. And if you鈥檙e prepared to share the truth, you also have to be ready for the messiness.

SB: Tell us where you鈥檒l be over the next 鈥攁ppearances, etc. You know the masses are going to want their Kara book signed!

KG: Just so everyone knows, I鈥檓 playing the long game. So while I have some appearances scheduled, I鈥檓 also planning to take a summer break in Minnesota鈥攁nd then come back in the fall. The story will still be there, and I can鈥檛 wait to see and talk with folks.

The post Kara Goucher on Owning Her Own Story appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

鈥淲hat鈥檚 the equivalent of the four-minute mile for women?鈥� The question was casually thrown out in a group of about ten sports-minded women, a mix of athletes and business leaders. We were all gathered around a big open table inside headquarters in Seattle. There was no immediate answer, and the question lingered awkwardly in the air.

鈥�4:40?鈥� Someone said. 鈥�4:40 or 4:30?鈥�

Another long pause. 鈥�4:30, definitely 4:30.鈥�

There were a few nods, but the long pause and the unfamiliarity with this number, 4:30, tinged the air with sadness. Here we were, a group of avid runners, some with athletic careers spanning more than two decades, including a Division 1 runner and several post-collegiate athletes, and yet the question and the answer felt foreign. How are our own benchmarks so unfamiliar?

On the men鈥檚 side, the milestones are easy to call up, featuring names you鈥檝e heard hundreds of times: Roger Bannister, the four-minute mile; the life and death of Steve Prefontaine; the 鈥淲orld鈥檚 Fastest Man鈥� and its parade of kings鈥擫ewis, Johnson, Bolt.

It鈥檚 not that the women鈥檚 side of the sport hasn鈥檛 had fearless protagonists and watershed moments. There鈥檚 Wilma Rudolph, the iconic sprinter of the 1950s and 鈥�60s who became the first American woman to win three Olympic golds in track and field. There鈥檚 Joan Benoit-Samuelson, the first ever women鈥檚 Olympic marathon champion. And many more. But their stories are less well-known outside the insular running world. And when you look closer at the dominant narratives for female athletes, it becomes clear that many are not focused on a woman鈥檚 heroic talent or strength聽but center more around the simple concept of inclusion.

In 1967, Kathrine Switzer became the first registered woman to run the Boston Marathon. Her finish time (4 hours and聽20 minutes) is infrequently cited; it鈥檚 not considered the point. Few people realize that Switzer went on to run 2:51 at the New York City Marathon in 1975, making her the third-fastest American woman marathoner at the time. Instead, the picture of the race director attempting to physically remove her from the course is one of the most iconic images of a female athlete.

In 1972, the passage of Title IX made it illegal to discriminate against female participation in sports at federally funded schools. And it鈥檚 often Title IX鈥攔ather an individual or her athletic achievements鈥攖hat鈥檚 cited to celebrate progress for women in sports. Title IX was pivotal, but isn鈥檛 it reasonable to ask for more? Haven鈥檛 we earned the right to have athletic traditions and narratives that go beyond simply being allowed to participate?

The predictable counterpoint to all of this is that the dearth of women鈥檚 milestones and tradition is a result of our relatively recent entry into competitive sports鈥攚e鈥檝e been sending large numbers of women through the college sports system only for about 45 years. But unfortunately, the tradition of nontradition marches on.

This spring, Nike made its attempt to break the two-hour barrier in the marathon, Breaking2, with no female equivalent in sight. The men鈥檚 goal is not to be discounted. It鈥檚 so ambitious that Nike built a special shoe, recruited world-class pacers, and guided the lead athlete, Eliud Kipchoge, with a laser pointer through every step. The company then poured millions of dollars into the creation of a moment鈥攁nd an incredible moment it was. People from all over the world watched the live broadcast and followed it on social media.

But where is the women鈥檚 Breaking2? Was it never even considered because, like the four-minute mile, we lack a goal with numeric roundness? Or was it because the company鈥攁nd the industry itself鈥攍acks the necessary interest and creativity to define what the equivalent mark would be for women? (The world record progression suggests that a sub-2:12 women鈥檚 marathon, three minutes faster than Paula Radcliffe鈥檚 world record of 2:15, is the number to chase. Though others have argued that Radcliffe鈥檚 time may be even closer to the women鈥檚 equivalent of a sub-two-hour performance.)

Round numbers are nice, but women鈥檚 participation in sports is about more than that. Tradition is a result of both cultural reverence and the way we tell stories about female athletes. This means sharing those moments with a broader audience so we understand the significance of the feat. For example, Emma Coburn鈥檚 recent gold medal at the IAAF World Championships was one of , exciting races in recent running history, for men or women. Don鈥檛 take my word for it.

Regardless of the sport, milestones and lore give sports fans and participants something to look toward, celebrate, talk about, and even shoot for.

But traditions are also an investment that must compound over time. After all, it鈥檚 easy to celebrate a single moment鈥攍ike Joan Benoit鈥檚 winning of the Olympic marathon. But we must continue to cherish its value, emphasize the tradition it started, and at the same time be on the lookout for what鈥檚 next.

So, as our team pondered the women鈥檚 equivalent for the four-minute mile, we concluded with a directive: We would put a stake in the ground for the women鈥檚 mile. We would add our voices to a nascent group that was already talking about sub-4:30. (, a website and community that aims to reestablish the mile as a preeminent distance in the United States, has done an excellent job of tracking the American women who have broken 4:30.) The sub-4:30 club is a rarefied group鈥攅ven more so than the sub-four-minute milers, a mark that almost have achieved. Only have broken 4:30 (including former Oiselle athletes Kate Grace, Lauren Penney, and Amanda Winslow).

The 4:30 mile. We will shout it from the rooftops, drop it into casual conversations, and speak of the women who break it with reverence. Because as it turns out, if we want someone to be a household name, we might have to build the houses.

Sally Bergesen () is the founder and CEO of , a Seattle-based athletic apparel company and athlete sponsor by and for women.

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