Scout Bassett learned an important lesson from an early age: you have to create your own luck.

Born as Zhu Fuzhi (鈥淟ucky Girl鈥� in Chinese), Bassett had to endure years of life鈥檚 cruel irony in her name. As an infant, she survived a fire that resulted in the loss of her leg, as well as the early abandonment by her biological parents.

Part autobiography, part self-help, part social critique, Bassett鈥檚 new book offers a candid view of her life, athletic career, and the seemingly insurmountable obstacles facing athletes with disabilities, especially female athletes. Bassett鈥檚 intention of this book was to help 鈥減osition ourselves to be overcomers鈥攖o be champions鈥o have the fortitude, the grit, the strength, and the mental toughness to do just that.鈥�

Surviving Trauma from Childhood to Adulthood

The book tells Bassett鈥檚 personal journey from a poverty-stricken Chinese orphanage, to a small northern Michigan town, to the University of California Los Angeles (UCLA), to the Rio de Janeiro 2016 Paralympics, and to the heart-breaking miss of making the 2021 Tokyo Paralympics team.

Bassett takes a straightforward narrative writing approach to the story of her childhood. Her earliest memory was tainted with hardship and abuse in the orphanage: living on a bowl of rice every day, sleeping in a narrow cot with another orphan, surviving abusive disciplinary acts such as waterboarding. The children never went outside; Bassett never even saw a housecat until after her adoption鈥攐r any animal for that matter.

Following her return to China as a Paralympian after the Rio Games in 2016, Bassett was thrown back into her childhood trauma. The experience of seeing that the orphanage had not changed much鈥攖he same rice for the children, the same permeating urine smell in the building鈥攍eft Bassett with panic attacks long after her return to Los Angeles.

Discovering Belonging Through Running

Being adopted into a conservative Christian family in northern Michigan was her first salvage, though it didn鈥檛 solve her problems of feeling like the other. Bassett never knew what a school was, let alone being the only Chinese student in a majority-white school and the only student of disability.

鈥淕rowing up and being ethnically Chinese, disabled, and adopted, I can鈥檛 remember a time when I didn鈥檛 feel like an other. This dynamic was most obvious at school, with my peers, and the sports teams I was on.鈥�

Even after arriving at UCLA, she felt she wasn鈥檛 fully accepted by some Asian American students. 鈥淏y the time I got to college, I hadn鈥檛 spoken Chinese in over a decade鈥 was raised by a white family鈥or my roommate, I was too culturally white to be Asian,鈥� she writes. 鈥淣ot white enough to be white, mind you鈥ut not Asian enough to be Asian.鈥�

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When Bassett discovered running at age 14, it was an indescribable sense of freedom which enabled her to overcome a mindset of victimhood and otherness. 鈥淩unning was really that transformative for me,鈥� she says. 鈥淚 grew in confidence; I grew in self-belief. I held my head just a little bit higher.鈥�

Eventually, through running, Bassett realized that 鈥淏eing an other is a lonely place to be,鈥� and shared a bit of advice: 鈥淒on鈥檛 allow your otherness to lead you to embrace a victim mentality鈥f you鈥檙e reading this right now and you feel like an 鈥榦ther,鈥� here鈥檚 what I鈥檇 say to you: Do not hide. Please, don鈥檛 hide. Don鈥檛 mask who you are鈥our path is not going to look like everybody else鈥檚, but aren鈥檛 you glad?鈥�

Betting on Yourself While Navigating Loneliness

Arriving at UCLA in 2007 started a new chapter for Bassett. Not only was she more exposed to people of all ethnic groups and religious backgrounds鈥攊ncluding more Asian Americans and the LGBTQ community鈥攕he was inspired to pursue Paralympics once a female coach asked her.

Then came more obstacles: a lack of training facilities and lack of coaches who are willing to work with Para athletes. Bassett was undeterred. She started training herself by watching YouTube videos and showing up before dawn to train on the track.

After graduation from college, Bassett went against everyone鈥檚 advice and quit her job at a medical device company. She lived in her car and on people鈥檚 couches to minimize her expenses so she could train full-time. In two years, she competed in the U.S. Championships but came in last. This only made her focus more and double down on her efforts.

The toughest part of Bassett鈥檚 pursuit was not the demanding physical training, but the prevalent sense of loneliness when choosing a path less-traveled. 鈥淭he obvious truth is that loneliness is a natural byproduct of life in an orphanage. But what I鈥檝e learned since is that loneliness is a natural byproduct of life鈥eriod鈥鈥檝e felt lonely on varying levels during almost every season of my life since.鈥�

Even being on the cover of Self magazine and having an made out of her own image couldn鈥檛 cure the everlasting loneliness. Bassett accepted the frequent loneliness and used it to fuel her training. 鈥淪ometimes, that might be to remain isolated so you can grind out a skill, learning, or development,鈥� she writes.

As Steve Magness writes in ,聽鈥淲hen we explore instead of avoid, we are able to integrate the experience into our story. We are able to make meaning out of struggle, out of suffering. Meaning is the glue that holds our mind together, allowing us to both respond and recover.鈥�

When Bassett found meaning in speaking for others who often feel lonely because of their 鈥渙therness,鈥� she realized that 鈥渢raining, mentoring, and advocacy have been my answer to loneliness鈥攚hich now doesn鈥檛 feel like loneliness at all.鈥�

This mindset has enabled Bassett to go from finishing last place at the 2012 London U.S. Paralympic track and field trials to competing as a Paralympian at the 2016 Rio Paralympics. After the setback of missing out on the Tokyo Paralympics, she then staged a strong comeback of winning the 100-meter at the 2022 US Nationals.

Building a Legacy on and off the Track

Bassett is unafraid to offer a critical look at the overall lack of systematic support for athletes with disabilities: lack of coaching support, lack of media coverage, and fewer Paralympic events to compete in. It goes all the way to the governing body: Only 4 out of 15 governing positions at the International Paralympic Committee (IPC) are held by women.

But perhaps the biggest hurdles of all are the limited options for Para athletes to continue developing and competing beyond high school. This is one of the intentions Bassett had set up her , to create a pipeline of Para athletes with adequate financial support. 鈥淚鈥檓 not talking about a few thousand dollars,鈥� she writes. We鈥檝e had a partner give a very generous donation that will allow us to give five-figure grants to these girls.鈥�

Christine Yu has also discussed the profoundly inadequate funding in women鈥檚 sports in her book, . 鈥淥n the whole, these institutions (NCAA, etc.) prioritize men鈥檚 sports over women鈥檚 sports.鈥� But on the Para athlete level, systemic support remains nascent. As recently as January 2014, the board of directors of the Eastern College Athletic Conference approved the for student-athletes with disabilities.

RELATED: Can Women Outperform Men in Sports? That鈥檚 the Wrong Question to Ask.

Bassett credits track running star Allyson Felix as one of her inspirations with advocacy. 鈥淎lyson has been a great role model for me as I鈥檝e gotten older in my career. She is the person who helped me to see I鈥檓 so much more than just an athlete鈥鈥檓 more than my wins. I鈥檓 more than my losses. And Allyson set that example for me to follow,” she says.

In creating her Scout Bassett Fund, Bassett hopes to also create other advocates like Allyson Felix and herself鈥攚hole champions on and off the track.

鈥淭he main idea behind the Scout Bassett Fund is to allow these young women to train their way into Paralympic contention. But it鈥檚 also to give these young women a megaphone鈥攖o give them a chance to build their own platforms so they can join their voices with mine to fight for equality and to fight for better representation of disabled females on and off the track.鈥�

The post This Paralympian Defined Her Own Future. It Includes Podiums for Others Like Her. appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

In April, Kelvin Kiptum clocked the third-fastest marathon in the history of the sport at the London Marathon. He鈥檚 from Kenya. Hellen Obiri won the 127th Boston Marathon in one of the most exciting women鈥檚 races in history. She鈥檚 from Kenya. And Eliud Kipchoge, considered the best marathoner of all time, missed a water station and hiccuped his Boston marathon performance, but remains the greatest runner of our time. Yes, he鈥檚 from Kenya.

It鈥檚 widely understood that Kenya has produced, is developing, and will continue to develop many of the world鈥檚 fastest and most formidable runners on Earth. But why? This question has been prodded and churned by many professionals, along many disciplines, and the answer is complicated and multivalent. But if there is one common denominator, in one specific location in Kenya, where champions are made, it鈥檚 in the Rift Valley of Kenya. And, for many champions? It鈥檚 the coach Patrick Sang.

In (Pegasus Books, 2023), sportswriter Sarah Gearhart takes a headlong, behind-the-scenes look into the world of the Kenyan super-elite as she investigates less the physiology or Vo2 max advantages that erupt from this corner of the world, less about the comparative analyses of workout and training architecture, and more about the social ecology found at the Global Sports Communication training camp, in Kaptagat, Kenya, a small rural town at the western edge of the country, inland about 200 miles from Nairobi and an hour鈥檚 drive south from Iten.

Here, Gearhart seeks to understand the collective weave that reinforces greatness, the mentorship and coach dynamics that create the best marathoners the world has ever seen, and she does this by traveling nearly 8,000 feet above sea level to the Rift Valley to meet the legendary Patrick Sang, famous for being Eliud Kipchoge鈥檚 coach, as well as many other elite champions, including Geoffrey Kamworor, twice a winner of the New York City Marathon.

If the name Kipchoge sounds familiar to you, bravo. But I鈥檒l bet most, like me, won’t know much of anything about Sang. That鈥檚 partially because the 59-year-old coach is private, as this book illustrates, but also because his coaching philosophy is not exclusively geared only for individual success. Rather, it鈥檚 about elevating together, something admittedly hard for much of the Western world to understand fully.

It鈥檚 about the athletes, yes. It鈥檚 about their success, yes. But most importantly, Gearhart suggests, Sang鈥檚 goal is to cultivate the whole human athlete, to identify their Why as rocket fuel.

An Elite Athlete and Coach

Near the beginning, Gearhart paraphrases Sang, saying that coaching a good athlete to become a great athlete comes by 鈥渟haping a person to have the ability to critically engage with the world with honest intention and undauntedly navigate whatever life presents.鈥�

Patrick Sang himself was one of Kenya鈥檚 finest athletes, and it鈥檚 around him that We Share the Sun sets the table. Sang ran at the University of Texas, becoming a three-time All-American, and proceeded to become a two-time Olympian, running the steeplechase for Kenya at the 1992 Summer Games in Barcelona. In addition to his silver medal in those Olympics, he also brought home silver from the 1991 and 1993 world championships, helping him earn his nickname of 鈥淪ilver Sang.鈥� (He also dabbled in the marathon in the late 1990s, running a personal best of 2:14:03 in 1999.)

Here, Gearhart clearly establishes the street cred of Sang as Athlete, followed shortly by Sang as Coach, establishing his tone of authority from both sides. What unfolds from here is a thoroughly reported tapestry of athletic achievement that stems from his early success and his philosophy of sport, Sang鈥檚 primary terms for life: 鈥淵ou are given an opportunity. Work hard.鈥�

Sang鈥檚 Greatest Athlete: Eliud Kipchoge

Many will know Kipchoge from the Breaking-2 Project, the INEOS 1:59 Challenge, or as the G.O.A.T. with near-flawless running form. But early Eluid was also earnest and relentless. Sang first met Kipchoge as a teen in 2001. Kipchoge was a fatherless boy with big dreams and an even bigger appetite for guidance and training plans. Sang delivered structure for young Kipchoge to grow into the disciplined athlete he is today.

鈥淒o your best. There鈥檚 nothing else,鈥� is Kipchoge鈥檚 primary credo, and that鈥檚 a direct import from Patrick 鈥淪ilver鈥� Sang.

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Throughout the book鈥檚 30 chapters, Gearhart establishes heft in the front end with longer portraits connecting Sang and Kipchoge, and then, right around midway, the book鈥檚 pace starts to pick up. The chapters get punchier. Shorter. More lyrical. It鈥檚 almost as if the book was mirroring a progression run鈥攁 staple workout in East Africa where the runner will start off slow and build to a whipping cadence by the end.

In flittering snapshots, Gearhart takes you through a brief history of how Sang established the running camp in 2002. She finds some of her most evocative language to describe the landscape, the roads, and the intimacy between Sang and the more than 50 athletes he coaches. 鈥淒aylight begins to surface just shy of 6:15 A.M., revealing a blanket of fog kissing the top of cypress trees,鈥� writes Gearhart. 鈥淚f you arrive at the end of April or beginning of May, stripes of lilacs on both sides of the road offer a mark of direction toward Sang and his world-class associates at Global Sports Communication training camp.鈥�

As the book drills into the common themes of Kenya鈥檚 success in elite long-distance running, a clearing begins to form. Gearhart鈥檚 punchy chapters and scene-setting help the reader become immersed in the place, as well as the self-affirming atmosphere created in Kaptagat by Sang.

Occasionally, we pan out and fold back to offer needed context for those of us鈥攊ncluding myself鈥攚ho haven鈥檛 yet committed to memory the complex history of colonial Africa and the origins of the Kenyan elite running at global events, which really took off in the 1980s. But generally, the book steers clear of geopolitics and stays with portraits of the athletes, the camaraderie, and the collective task of making elite running a career, depicting the training camp a workplace, not a hobby.

Here, Sang鈥檚 coaching approach proves less a hyper-individual focus and more about the collective, a way of building the greatest runners in the world, not by lionizing one athlete but by building in a culture of mutual flourishing. Much of this is shown through time spent in Kaptagat, and through Sang鈥檚 relationship with his athletes.

At times, I was hoping Gearhart would look squarely at this, offering more contrast of coaching techniques and cultural differences between Kenya and running programs in the West, to better understand the consequences of a more hyper-individual hype-machine of social media that readily invites athletes in the West to double down on self-as-brand and lose focus on the business of winning.

Developing the Why

There鈥檚 a constant refrain of Sang鈥檚 importance of developing the Why in his athlete鈥檚 training regimen. 鈥淭hose who are here understand their Why, just like Sang understood his Why when he was a competitive elite athlete and trained alone,鈥� writes Gearhart. 鈥淭he Why is crucial. The Why pushes one to be better everyday.鈥�

Thus, Sang鈥檚 recipe becomes apparent: collective elevation through hard training together; aiming for a higher purpose, a reason for being there. 鈥淕rab a higher branch鈥� is an analogy both Sang and Kipchoge use to stay optimistic and driven to succeed, despite setbacks.

Though a higher proportion of the book focuses on male athletes under Sang鈥檚 leadership鈥攊n large part because the ratio of men-to-women at the camp is significantly disproportionate鈥擪enyan female athletes are certainly part of the book, including Faith Kipyegon, a two-time Olympic champion and two-time world champion in the 1500 meters. She joined Sang鈥檚 group in 2019, who helped train her back to excellence after maternity leave. 鈥淗e knows everything,鈥� said Kipyegon. 鈥淗e reads your mind.鈥�

鈥淭he people around you determine what you become, what you think,鈥� Sang says, which I find one of the clearest lessons of the book, one that the author continues to illustrate throughout the work. Excellence is never wholly individual; it鈥檚 always dependent on others. The best marathoners in the world are indeed talented individuals full of drive and discipline, but they are also almost always part of a group, a team that reminds them of the ultimate project: mutual flourishing.

We Share the Sun is an engaging book for those who want to explore the structural, social, and relational foundations of Kenyan elite marathoners. Both compelling and accessible, I wouldn鈥檛 see this book resonating as much with those having zero knowledge of elite road marathoners, as it does get into the weeds in its traversing of races, results, and athletes. That said, I came to road running from a trail and mountain background and found Gearhart鈥檚 guidance through this world captivating.

If you鈥檝e ever asked: Why are Kenyan marathoners consistently so damn good? What is the subtle edge that cultivates such deep distance running talent? Though this book doesn鈥檛 fully answer these questions鈥攎ainly because these questions are complex and involve many factors鈥擥earhart effectively delivers the message that success comes best when shared, best when you believe in your inherent greatness and potential, and best when reinforced constantly by your community and peers. This, combined with Sang鈥檚 approach to building whole athletes, athletes who are connected to their Why, is a time-tested recipe for greatness.

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I vividly remember standing on Boylston Street on April 20, 2009, watching the final meters of the women鈥檚 professional race. I was new to following the elite side of the sport, but I knew enough to look for one woman expected to race up front. Her name and image were everywhere. Kara Goucher was going to contend for the win at the Boston Marathon鈥攊t was all anybody was talking about.

By the time Salina Kosgei, Dire Tune, and Goucher ran by, it was clear that Goucher was going to finish in third place, maybe 10 seconds back, but she was still charging toward the tape like she had a chance. The roar from the crowd was thunderous鈥攕o much adulation for the U.S. athlete who had given a thrilling performance. It was the best that an American woman had finished in Boston in 16 years. But looking up at the jumbotron, we could see how upset she was, visibly sobbing at the result. I could understand her disappointment, but the despair seemed excessive at the time. What did I (or anybody else) know? As it turns out, we didn鈥檛 know the half of it. We knew less.

In Goucher鈥檚 new memoir, The Longest Race, which she wrote with former New York Times sports reporter Mary Pilon, Goucher reveals just what she endured in order to achieve as much as she did in her running career. Among the highlights: making the Olympic team twice, a world championships 10,000-meter silver medal, third place finishes at the New York and Boston marathons, while building one of the largest platforms of any U.S. track and field athlete and eventually leveraging it to advocate for a fairer, cleaner, safer sport for all.

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By now most know that Goucher reveals, for the first time in the book, that her Nike Oregon Project coach Alberto Salazar sexually assaulted her twice while giving her massages, as well as sexually harassed her while traveling on airplanes to competitions (both times, Goucher writes, he had been drinking and and had taken Ambien). Salazar, who is currently serving a four-year ban from the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency and has also been permanently banned by the U.S. Center for SafeSport for sexual misconduct, has denied the doping violation charges, as well as the abuse allegations.

The details Goucher shares about the assaults are horrific, of course. And although they have made most of the headlines since the book was released on March 14, Goucher鈥檚 transparency about so much of her career is what elevates this memoir as perhaps the most important contribution she鈥檒l ever make to women鈥檚 sports.

For those of us who had closely followed the six years of investigations into Salazar and the Nike Oregon Project, many of the anecdotes in The Longest Race seem unsurprising. We鈥檝e heard stories from other former athletes like Mary Cain and Amy Begley, who have also courageously come forward to talk about the physical and verbal abuse they experienced while under Salazar鈥檚 direction. Still, reading the totality of what occurred, who was involved, and how the biggest brand in sports allowed (and even cultivated) such widespread and egregious mistreatment of the country鈥檚 most talented female athletes, makes Goucher鈥檚 story all the more powerful.

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Throughout the book, Goucher describes a revolving cast of men at Nike who were largely responsible for fostering a culture of misogyny and abuse, including then-CEO Mark Parker; John Capriotti, who was the vice president of Nike Track & Field (now retired but still a Nike consultant); John Slusher, Nike executive vice president of marketing; Darren Treasure, hired as the Oregon Project鈥檚 sports psychologist, although as it turns out, he was never a licensed psychologist; and Salazar.

In one of many disturbing stories, Goucher describes going to the Nike campus 11 days after giving birth to her son, Colton, to resume training, wearing 鈥渢wo sports bras and a diaper under my running tights while completing a timed mile on the track.鈥�

鈥淣o one checked in on how I was doing鈥攏ot Alberto, Darren, assistant coaches, or physical therapists. There was no talk of creating a plan for me that put my health and safety first. Nike was making money by tailoring its marketing to motherhood and femininity, while up close, the story was very different. It was dangerous, and looking back, it makes my heart sick,鈥� Goucher wrote.

As we now know was common practice, thanks to Goucher and other women who have shared their similar maternal health experiences (including Olympians Allyson Felix and Alysia Monta帽o), Nike had suspended Goucher鈥檚 contract while she was pregnant, citing clauses that mandated how often she raced in order to receive her compensation. She felt pressure to get back to training immediately.

Meanwhile, USA Track & Field, the governing body of the sport, had cut off the family鈥檚 health insurance because her marathon ranking had dropped while she was pregnant. Slusher confirmed that Nike would dock Goucher $325,000 in pay鈥攅ven though she had made many appearances on behalf of the brand during her leave from competition鈥攁nd even allowed Nike to orchestrate her pregnancy announcement for maximum marketing impact. In relaying his decision via email, Slusher had the audacity to describe how he had been thinking about Goucher at his daughter鈥檚 first track meet鈥攈is daughter had been 鈥渁mazed鈥� to learn how much Goucher trained.

鈥淭he hypocrisy of this male executive thinking of me as a role model to his daughter while also determining that a hardworking female athlete didn鈥檛 deserve to be paid during her pregnancy astounded me,鈥� she wrote.

And while Salazar was definitely a creep, making inappropriate comments about the size of Goucher鈥檚 breasts after giving birth鈥攆or one of too many examples鈥攈e was also cruel, controlling, and manipulative. His alcohol consumption was problematic, often imbibing during afternoon practices. Goucher, whose father was killed by a drunk driver and whose mother subsequently devoted much of her life to Mothers Against Drunk Driving, describes a harrowing instance in which Salazar picked Goucher up from the airport while intoxicated. The night before that 2009 Boston Marathon, he kept Goucher out at a restaurant well past the time she wanted to go to bed, drinking red wine and trying to push it on her, too (she declined). He once treated her shin splints with a topical cream mixed with crushed aspirin, which resulted in second-degree burns on her legs. And, of course, he famously distributed prescription drugs to Oregon Project members for performance enhancement, telling Goucher and Cain that they needed to lose weight and thyroid medicine would help.

Goucher鈥檚 story is, in the end, a reflection of the failures across all of women鈥檚 sports, still rampant today: the abuse, the male-dominated systems that refuse to protect athlete safety or well-being, the problematic corporations that drive these win-at-all-cost practices, the lack of required training, education, certification, or accountability of coaches and other support staff. The list goes on.

And yet, athletes like Goucher have still succeeded at the top levels, despite the burden of carrying so many forms of mistreatment along with them. It makes you wonder how much better these female athletes could have been鈥攚hat barriers they might have broken鈥攈ad they been surrounded by people who had integrity and valued athletes as whole human beings, deserving of the basic care and respect that would nurture their talent. So much potential and talent has been lost, careers cut short and replaced by lifelong trauma.

The head scratcher has always been how Nike, the world鈥檚 wealthiest brand in sports, with every resource available, believed that the Oregon Project and Alberto Salazar were the best that it could offer the country鈥檚 top athletes. And how still, today, despite what we know, the Swoosh still controls the funding of USA Track & Field and the decisions that are made at the highest levels. Salazar is still celebrated as a member of the USATF Hall of Fame. The brand is everywhere, from the construction of Hayward Field to the shoes that proliferate every marathon and local 5K in America (and beyond). Where鈥檚 the accountability? Where鈥檚 the hope in that?

The hope is, of course, in Goucher鈥檚 story鈥攖he only way to change anything is to demand better. It would have been far easier for her to quietly retire from professional running and move on. And who would have blamed her? Instead, Goucher has put herself through years of grueling testimony, endured endless backlash and even death threats, and has shared the most painful moments of her life in order to work toward a safer, healthier, more equitable sport for those who come after her.

鈥淚f I鈥檝e learned anything,鈥� Goucher writes, 鈥渋t鈥檚 that change starts when good people refuse to stay quiet.鈥�

Thanks to Goucher and all the women who keep talking. Your voices will always matter.

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