Hey everyone

Sorry for not being current with posts, but life post-racing has been hectic to say the least. So much happened the week after the racing I'm not really sure where to start, so I'm not going to just yet... but I will say that being an athlete who is finished competing is like being a rock star in Vegas - cool, but exhausting and frenetic. I did arrive back in the states (after getting delayed another day in China) and now am getting rested up again and ready to transport back to the West Coast.... but I wanted to post up a story that my college roommate drafted up that didn't make the papers (too much Olympics coverage already) that I liked...

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Golden Opportunities



When you first meet Mike Altman, you would not at first guess that he is an Olympic athlete. He is tall without being overbearing, slender to the point of skinny. But as you spend more time with him, you notice something in the way he carries himself, how he moves with the economy and grace that characterize an elite athlete. You later pick up that his jaw is unusually square, and his blue eyes have a certain hardness to them. When you notice all that, it isn't so hard to see him as an Olympian.



Mr. Altman is a lightweight rower. At Georgetown University, he rowed with the varsity heavyweight squad. After he graduated in 1997, he was invited to try out for the lightweight national team—provided he could shed almost forty pounds from a body with virtually no fat on it. He dropped the weight and made the team.



Mr. Altman went on to compete at various international events, winning medals at a number of world championships. But, like most amateur athletes, there was one thing that he truly wanted: to compete in the Olympics. He didn't make the cut for Sydney. More painfully, he was the last man eliminated from the boat that competed in Athens. After the 2004 Games, Mr. Altman faced a painful decision: Should he continue rowing, or not?



It's a particularly acute question for elite rowers. Crew remains a sport where athletes make a name for themselves at top-tier universities, usually in the Northeast. (The three notable exceptions to this rule are the Universities of Wisconsin, California, and, especially, Washington.) In 2008, the top three men's lightweight eights at the Intercollegiate Rowing Association were Cornell, Yale, and the Naval Academy; the top three boats at the Eastern Sprints were Cornell, Princeton, and Yale.



Elite athletes at elite schools often enjoy a world of opportunities awaiting them after graduation. Many superb rowers find it awfully hard to pass up a six-figure salary for the austere life of an amateur athlete.



Compounding the difficulty of Mr. Altman's decision after the Athens Games was the fact that rowing is a sport that can abide longevity. It's not unusual to see rowers compete into their 30s. Rowing isn't like women's gymnastics, where an athletic career is often over before the gymnast faces a single adult decision. (Sir Steve Redgrave, for instance, is a legendary heavyweight oarsman from Great Britain; he is the only athlete in history to have won gold medals in five consecutive Olympiads, starting in Los Angeles and culminating in Sydney.) Even after his near miss in Athens, Mr. Altman would have a legitimate shot at Beijing.



Mr. Altman thought it over for a long time. He arrived at his decision just as one would expect from a jock—albeit a jock with degrees from Georgetown's prestigious School of Foreign Service and UCLA's business school. He turned to the principle of comparative advantage.



Mr. Altman was aware that he had an absolute advantage in lightweight rowing. He was, quite simply, one of the nation's finest lightweight oarsmen. He had the times to prove it, and a display case full of medals from international competitions. The invitation from USRowing to try out for the national team was dispositive proof. He was one of the best.



But was it to his comparative advantage to continue rowing? Mr. Altman had studied David Ricardo, and he knew that to determine his comparative advantage, he would have to compare the competing opportunity costs. Only then could he seriously evaluate the tradeoff.



The opportunity cost of continuing rowing was significant. Mr. Altman had already sacrificed a great deal for his sport. The physical exertion alone was daunting. A six-minute, 2,000-meter race is said to exact as much energy as playing back-to-back basketball games. Exhaustion, pain, and injury wear down even the most dedicated rowers.



There was also his career to consider. Though he had worked in finance for a while, Mr. Altman had not had the time to fully devote himself to the job. He was furthermore eager to start coursework toward an MBA, and was reluctant to forfeit the advantages it might confer on his employment prospects. He resolved to leave the water, focus on his career, and head to business school.



But as the Games drew nearer, Mr. Altman began to re-evaluate the opportunity cost of leaving the sport. The potential upside of returning to rowing was highly uncertain; there were no guarantees he would make the Olympic team. The potential downside was likewise serious. He went to one of his college teammates for advice. "I know I sound like a heartless investment banker when I say this," his friend told Mr. Altman, "but if you really intend to get a decent return out of your investment in the MBA, then now is your best opportunity to make it happen. If things don't work out, you're stuck with the fixed costs associated with financing school, no summer internship to fall back on, and competition from the next batch of MBAs."



And yet Mr. Altman knew that if he chose not to pursue a seat on the national team, he knew he would wonder for the rest of his life if he missed his best chance to compete in the Olympic Games. That, he ultimately decided, was too high an opportunity cost. So Mr. Altman returned to training—and made the Olympic team. Along with Patrick Todd, Will Daly, and Tom Paradiso, Mr. Altman was selected for the Olympic men's lightweight four (without coxswain).



En route to Beijing, the four rowers were joined by four more American lightweights in Linz, Austria, where they won the World Championships in the men's lightweight eight. It was a particularly sweet victory for Mr. Altman, whose first international competition had been in the same event ten years earlier, where his eight had missed the gold by a tenth of a second.



The results in Beijing, however, were less cheerful. The four drew tough heats, and was eliminated from medal consideration in the semi-finals. The boat ultimately finished fifth in the B-final.



Was it worth it? "It's disappointing, but we just weren't having a great week for whatever reason," Mr. Altman recently wrote on his blog. "It's frustrating because we are a good crew, probably the best I've been a part of, so it's too bad this stretch had to come at the Olympics."



Mr. Altman may not have placed as high as he would have liked in Beijing. In twenty years, it's possible that his career may not be as advanced as it might otherwise have been. Yet this much is certain. If you were to ask his college teammates—among them many successful lawyers, consultants, and bankers—they would, to a one, acknowledge that Mr. Altman is the richer man for it.

Hard racing

We finished up today 5th in B final with some good racing. It's disappointing, but we just weren't having a great week for whatever reason. It's frustrating because we are a good crew, probably the best I've been a part of, so it's too bad this stretch had to come at the Olympics. We had some trouble getting the boat off the line in every race (that is, executing a starting sequence to the race), for whatever reason, and couldn't get any comfortable traction. The race itself is a bit of a blur and I don't really remember much... but I was pleased to see it was a bit closer than I initially thought.

Currently rather than being out celebrating, I am hanging out at the hotel recovering. Immediately after the race, I got hit with some kind of puking spell that lasted over an hour, followed by 2 hours of dizziness and lying down. Since there was little in my stomach but water at that point, is was sort of unpleasant. I felt fine with normal raceweek soreness going into the race today, but it's possible there may have been some bug in my system that got stressed by racing. The team doctor very patiently talked me through it and said it was a result of overexertion. Now I am back at the hotel doing a little better. I've never, ever after any workout or race in my life that I remember, been hit so hard. I tried hard to make sure I left it all out the water today, though, and I guess this was the result.

I wish it could have produced a better result for myself, my team and my coach, as we'd hoped we'd end the year (and my rowing career) getting medals rather than me being nursed through puking. It's frustrating having tried to do everything possible to prepare for this week, but I guess that's the way it goes sometimes... and I'm trying to remind myself that sometimes it goes the other way, too.

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SUN AM UPDATE - So I woke up this morning feeling much better, so I am not sick... my system is back to normal and while I am still disappointed at not having performed better I know it was not for lack of effort.

Not the result we wanted

If you checked the results, you probably saw we didn't do as well as we would have liked. We are gearing up for a better race tomorrow in the second level final which should be really competitive. Think fast for one more day.

On hold....

So I went to the rowing course today for the semifinal, got warmed up, stretched, weighed in, and was prepping to launch to race for a spot in Sunday's Olympic medal final - and then thunder and lightning struck. My race got delayed, which put us in a holding pattern. Sat and waited in the United States 'waiting room' (we have cots to relax on), not sure whether we were going to go out and settle this today or not. The key during these kind of unexpected delays is to stay cool - pressure does strange things to people so lots of times regattas turn on who handles speed bumps like this the best. Finally, we got the word that the races were canceled, so we loaded up on the bus and went back to the hotel. It sounds like there were a lot of factors that went into the decision to delay, primarily what this would do to the TV coverage and crews that weren't planning on working tomorrow (Friday was supposed to be a 'buffer' day with no racing before medal finals start on Saturday). So we'll do this again tomorrow, and I'll repeat all my pre-race rituals again and get ready to go out and race hard...

One other development - strange stuff happens at the Olympics.... the German crew, which has been really fast this year, had to scratch due to illness. This is following up some shocking races yesterday, including the semifinals of the men's heavyweight four in which 1st, 2nd and 3rd place from last year's Wold Championships all failed to make it to the medal final of six. Having been thru this before, it doesn't surprise me all that much - I knew crazy things would start to happen, and it would be all about being ready for them.

Day before the big race

So our semifinal is tomorrow. That's the race we've been targeting all year. Because this is one of the lightweight events in the Olympic, the depth is this field is pretty incredible and there is only a few seconds between first and twelfth. In our first couple of races here, we haven't been able to race up to our potential - and we've gotten really bad breaks with trying to set our oars to the conditions (headwind vs. tailwind). So we are making a few more adjustments, and will be ready race hard in the semis. The level of racing will be pretty incredible, but this is what we've been waiting for. I know we are a good crew and we will try to put together a race that we are all proud of.

Think fast.

Freezing cold....

So I just stepped out of an icebath, which is the new trend this year to remove lactic acid from your legs. It seems to help, but it's pretty painful to step into freezing cold water and wait for your body to go numb. But I'll take any little edge I can get.

If you saw the results yesterday, you probably realized we didn't place quite as high as we hoped, but we are looking forward to racing tomorrow. In all seriousness, everytime I've been put in a situation of having extra races it has helped me out by the end of the regatta - you learn something about yourself as a crew every time you go down the course. So while we don't like having our backs against the wall, provided we get through tomorrow I think it will ultimately help us later on. We are making some minor strategic adjustments which we believe will make a difference, and we'll just be ready to race hard and improve each time we go down the course.

Go time.

Day before racing

New layout, some new pictures at the bottom. Gotta bring the A game for the Olympics.

I'm in the hotel getting rested up for my heat tomorrow. Hard to believe the Olympics are actually starting - the rowing has kicked in already with several of my teammates racing today. You can track racing at the following rowing-heavy websites -

www.row2k.com
www.fisa.org

All events are streamed live at nbcolympics.com, I believe.

As for my event, there are 13 crews in the lightweight men's four. We race in the heat tomorrow against three other crews. Three of the crews will advance directly to the semifinals on Thursday, the 14th. The fourth place crew goes on to the repechage (second heat) on Tuesday, which eliminates one crew. The semifinals on Thursday are our big race, if we advance to the medal final it will be a hugely successful regatta for us and anything can happen because the crews are so tightly packed together in our event.

My heat is tomorrow at 4:10 PM in China, and by finishing top 3 we will move on directly to the semifinal on Thursday, which will be about the same time of day.

Article on me in my hometown newspaper

http://origin.marinij.com/sports/ci_10105410

Am going to try to figure out how to get some photos up when I get a chance. Also, it appears that more people are reading this, so I'll try to upgrade the appearance a bit, although I am not known for my internet prowess.

So our draw for the heats came out today... I try not to think too much about other crews and just stay internal, but it's weird now that we actually have our opponents lined up. It's getting more real. The opening ceremonies are tomorrow as well - I won't be attending, since we are 45 minutes away and we wouldn't get back to our hotel in late at night, and with heats two days later, it's just not a smart racing move to expend that much energy and do something as distracting just when we need to be getting zoned in. So we'll be watching them on TV at the hotel - which is fine, we'll save the partying for the week after racing. But it all seems a little strange that it's really starting...

A Perk to the King and Queen Garden Hotel - Birthday Flowers

So apparently it is a custom in China to celebrate birthdays.... our hotel is sending flowers to everyone who has a birthday. I walked into my teammates room and saw some flowers, assuming that his girlfriend had sent them over to him. But no, the management of the hotel sent a printed card with hearts, flowers and a handwritten signature on it. The Chinese are very thorough...

I ran out of water today so I took a cab down to a local grocery store to stock up this morning. English is limited, so I had to have a translator set me up with the cab driver to have him wait for me. The Wu-Mart, as it is called, is a true experience... and with my Olympic credential on (since I needed it for security reasons to get back to the hotel), I got way more attention from clerks who don't speak English than I knew what to do with. But I got what I needed, in bottled water, laundry detergent and chocolate to keep me happy at the hotel.

I was talking to our trainer this morning and telling him our stir crazy we are going... he had some good insights, and reminded that as agonizing as the next few days until racing starts are going to be, this is what we love - the adrenaline, and the fact that there is no assurance of any safe outcome at a regatta like this. There is nothing to hang on to when you get out on the racecourse - the starting line is the great equalizer. You start from scratch everytime you go to the line and have to dig deep because there are no past victories to hang on to, and that is really great about it. The feeling of being totally juiced on adrenaline is impossible to duplicate anywhere - and I guess that's why I stuck with this for so long... guess I only get that one more time, so I better enjoy it.

Getting closer to racing

So we are still 5 days out from our heat (I think, I'm losing track of days here at the hotel), and about 9 days out from our semifinal, which is likely our most important race here. We are relatively calm, but time is starting to drag. However, we are starting to get indications that the racing is approaching. It happens slowly when the official 'USA' stickers start to go on the boat, and we got our official regatta boat picture taken today, as well as weighed our shell to make sure we were at regulation weight. But the NBC commentators showed up our hotel, and I know people's family will start showing up soon. And pretty soon I know that time will start to accelerate... families will start to arrive to spectate, photographers will arrive, and then it will be important to keep the distractions out so that we can focus on our race. The whole atmosphere will start to have some excitement to it, and it will be up to us to put our best race together in the midst of everything.

We were officially put on lock down today at the hotel. We are not allowed to go and see the sights in our downtime, which is fine - we all want a good performance. But we it's going to be tough because in the week I've been in Beijing I have literally not had a chance to do spend time anywhere other than the hotel or the course. We only get one English TV station at the hotel - fortunately I've got a Nintendo DS and some DVD's to keep me occupied. I've been stretching out my mealtimes at the hotel to over an hour in order to pass time and avoid being in my room. Unfortunately I'm a bit too worked up in order to concentrate on books right now, so electronics will be my only form of entertainment.

The rowing community is small, and those who race in various events all know each other. So I'm running into my 'friends' from other countries - it's hard not to be friendly with them because of the respect we have for each other, since such a small group of people have made it to this level. On raceday we are pretty stonefaced around each other and only acknowledge each other with nods, but otherwise it's kind of like a reunion every time we race.

Unexpected shopping

So a team of Chinese tailors showed up at our hotel in order to sell us suits. Seriously. I couldn't not buy them, they were so cheap. And tailor-made. They took our measurements, and gave us a set of fabrics to choose from. Custom suits from scratch came to about $120 each. Seriously. I bought two, doubling the number of suits that I own. And I got a couple of custom fitted dress shirts to go along with them ($10 each).

It was quite a sight to see a team of Chinese tailor scurrying around a group of 6'5" guys taking measurements. Each side of the transaction was equally thrilled - we got some custom clothing at an incredibly cheap price, while they got a ton of business. It almost seemed so cheap I couldn't afford not to buy a couple. Even the women's team got into the act, buying tailor-made dresses. Guys were able to get whatever they wanted - tuxes, blazers - out of any material. I was less creative, just going for the standard suits.

Apparently haggling is a big part of buying suits from tailors - I didn't even think to try and talk the price since it was already so cheap, but I could have knocked a few dollars off an already rock bottom purchase. I'll be a wiser consumer next time.... But haggling is added conflict, which is not something I need as I focus my energy on racing.

I haven't gotten to uploading any pics yet, but my teammate Pat Todd has a bunch of us up here - http://picasaweb.google.com/patrick.todd/LinzAndBeijing8308214PM.

Clear air

So we actually saw the sun for the first time since we have been here, the course is actually really beautiful with the mountains in the background, there were thick clouds from humidity every other day we have been here (interesting article on the air and efforts to clear it - http://www.news.com.au/heraldsun/beijing_olympics/story/0,27313,24100565-5016818,00.html). The humidity can be pretty intense and really sneaks up on you when you are working out - you don't really feel that hot, but as soon as you stop rowing you look down and are just completely drenched and soaked in sweat.

The Canadians and Italians have arrived at our hotel and will be staying with us thru the Olympics. They set up separate eating areas for us to give us our space, and we often exchange minor nods/pleasantries with those that we pass in the halls. But every now and then I pass someone who I know is in my event, and that I'll be racing in a few days (9 days until the heats start now). It's kind of a weird exchange - we go to nod or smile, then realize who it is we are eye to with. There's kind of an understood "I'll be seeing you in a few days" look exchanged briefly, and no one wants to be the one to break eye contact (as it might be taken as backing down). But we somehow manage to avoid a prolonged stare-down scenario as we keep on walking....