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Bio | Best Moment | My Postcard

2004 Olympic Trials:
 
2.14 -
2.19 -
2.24 -
2.27 -
2.30 -
 
My warm-ups were timed perfectly with the call room announcement. When I entered the call room, all of the other jumpers were already seated and ready to hear the sermon about the rules of the high jump. You would imagine that at the Olympic Trials we would be spared of these instructions. It was not long before we were escorted to the field.
 
The track was hot, just as in the prelims two days prior. I remember being much less nervous than before. I set up my marks unchanged then went under the small tent to observe the other jumpers. It was going to be a long afternoon. Eventually I took some warm-up jumps, but right away, I knew I would not be as springy as the prelims. No worries because surely if I am feeling some effects of the fatigue, the others must be feeling the same thing.
 
The competition started immediately after the seemingly endless introductions. It was time to fight for only three team spots. I started at the easy 2.14 height and promptly flew over along with everyone else. Next up 2.19m. I mistimed the start and ended up too slow at the plant. The result was an easily reparable miss and I did just that, coasting over on the second attempt. The problem was, everyone else flew over on the first attempt leaving me to jump alone. Not to mention the fact that I was nearly in last place going into the 2.24 round.  
 
Everyone already jumped 2.24m to get into the finals, so it was clear that this bar would not decide the team. I decided to pass this height and sat down to charge my batteries while the others played around with that height. I needed the rest for 2.27 it since it was three cm higher than my seasonal best. Eventually, six guys cleared 2.24.
 
When my name was called for 2.27, I was more than ready to go. I attacked and cleared with only a light brush. I jumped out of the pits ecstatic, but quickly stopped short to contain myself for the next jumps. We already calculated that 2.27 on first attempt would likely to make the team and that thought actually made it a little difficult for me to get settled for the next bar.
 
One by one I saw the jumpers slide over and match my performance. At this time, it was not totally clear what the ranking were and six jumpers moved on to the next bar at 2.30m.
 
Again I attacked, and the jump was about the same quality as the 2.27m jump, but that brush turned into a miss at this higher bar. It was clear this was right at the limit of what I could manage this day.
 
One guy clears…two guys clear. It was a bit of "musical chairs" as four athletes fight for last position. This would certainly decide the third spot on the team. My second response...another miss! But the remaining jumpers missed as well. Now I must respond. I am the first of four jumpers to jump. Third and final attempt, everything is on the line.
 
All but the jump blanks out. It is going to take the perfect jump. I move towards the bar. Good run, good curve, good flight...slight brush, more contact. I land in the pit, but soon followed by the bar. I missed! Its over.
 
Is it over? Wait, check the standings… I am third currently! Three jumpers each have one last chance to knock me off. So far only two jumpers went over 2.30m. What can I do? The truth is, there is nothing I can do. Instantly I became just another person in the audience. My fate decided by the actions of the others.
 
The last three jumpers are called. Patterson: 2.30m ...miss, Moffatt: 2.30...miss. This is horrible feeling. Next up is Austin, the three-time Olympian, Gold Medalist, American Record holder, Olympic Record holder: he runs, barely taps the bar... it wobbles and flings to the ground.
 
So is that it? Did I do it? It can't be possible. Check the standings, no check it again! I am not sure what emotion to act on. It was taking forever, what's so hard about counting the results? I look over to my coach; he has a little smirk on his face. Then the announcement echoes the news. I am an Olympian! The dream is finally a reality.