Born to Perform (13 page)

17

The Power of Belief in Performance and Healing

I had grabbed the baton of my new-found life with both hands. My time as an athlete was a different life and I was a different person then. I turned my back on the sport of triathlon. A lot of my friends were in triathlon and I turned my back on them too. I did not have time for them anymore. I did not want to go near triathlon.

This was partly the result of giving my all to my new career. The desire to make it to the top in my new career had taken me over. The reality was that I needed something to put my heart and soul into, to absorb me, as a way of dealing with the past.

Triathlon had been good to me, but it had ended in tragedy and not on my terms. The ending came all too suddenly, without warning. Blocking out triathlon was a form self-protection, a defence mechanism. I blocked it out and replaced it with something more meaningful. I could not deal with my demons at the time, but, then, there is a time and a place for everything, as I was to find out. My demons would soon confront and deal with me.

In 2001, exactly ten years after my accident, I was back in Florida. I had been invited over to the US by Cyle Sage, my former triathlon coach and training partner, and now the head coach for track and field at St Leo University in Central Florida. The purpose of my visit was to be the keynote speaker to the entire student-athlete body, as they prepared for the 2002 season in various sports. My lecture was titled: “Why We Need Champions”.

It was my first real public address to such a large audience, and my message was strong. I shared experiences from the “University of Life” to carry my message on why sport and recreation is so important, how it can save and heal, and how it can shape your life. My one-hour talk was followed by over forty minutes of questions and answers.

The following day, the President of the University and faculty members received me for lunch. They were delighted with my address and requested if there was anything they could do for me. I declined and afterwards I asked Coach Sage, “How many miles is it from here to Gainesville?” When he replied that it was about a two-hour car drive, I said, “Cyle, can you get two bikes? Let's drive up there and let's cycle across the Paynes Prairie.”

We arrived outside Gainesville and parked the jeep. Cyle sensed the mounting enormity of the occasion for me, that I had a demon to exorcise, a past to overcome once and for all. “Gerard, I think you need to face this alone,” he said. “I will drive behind you. Let it be just you and the Prairie.”

It was a mere sixteen miles one way across Paynes Prairie. I saddled up, just wearing casual sports shorts and a tee-shirt, with running shoes and a helmet. I rolled out from Gainesville southbound towards Ocala, all on my own again on a bicycle and venturing into familiar yet unfamiliar territory. I was facing my demons. It had been ten years since I lost my nerve and now I was on the bike again, crossing the Prairie. I was fearful but I was also full of emotions. I had a fear that perhaps the redneck in the red pick-up truck would slow up beside me and push me off the road. Not today. This day was special. There were no armadillos crossing in front of my path this time. I passed the place where I had imagined a RIP sign at the roadside – the place where Gerard Hartmann, the triathlete, died on August 28, 1991.

I prayed ten Hail Marys, one for each of the ten years since my accident, in thanksgiving for being alive. Then I cried to myself for the next six miles, and banished all bad thoughts and fears. When I dismounted the bike, Cyle Sage and I drove south. He asked, “Gerard, how was that?”

I said, “Cyle, I confronted my demons face to face. They don't exist anymore. I now want to go back and relive the Ironman in Hawaii.”

Cyle was taken aback. “Gerard, you've got to be in serious shape to do the Hawaii Ironman. You haven't trained for ten years; you can't run with your hip.”

He was right in ways but, for my sanity, I needed to go back to Hawaii, do the Ironman and suffer for ten or eleven hours on those lava fields; I did not want to do some low-key triathlon. I had turned my back on triathlon, blanked out my friends, held myself to ransom in fear and deprived myself of being an athlete. I had treated myself like an invalid. The true test of my character and willpower would be to face the Hawaii Ironman head-on; to confront the most famous and toughest one-day endurance event in the world. I had been a prisoner for too long. I wanted to put myself to the test, to prove that, yes, anything is possible. To finish is to win; to win is to finish. So-called experts sometimes place limitations upon us, and thus we underachieve because of someone else's expectations, or the fact that they place the bar too low. From working with Olympic and world champions, it is my observation that most people, indeed many sportspeople, live in a comfort zone. Many people set the bar too low and never come near reaching their true potential in life.

Haile Gebrselassie, Usain Bolt, Sonia O'Sullivan, Kelly Holmes, Paula Radcliffe and the top champions of sport are champions because they set absolutely no limits. When Usain Bolt is asked before a 100-metre race to predict his time, his answer is, “I'm here to win. I'm here to run fast.” For him or any great athlete to announce a time is setting a barrier.

Before 1954 it was thought impossible for a human to run a mile in under four minutes. When Roger Bannister broke the four-minute barrier, he shattered the myth. By the end of the twentieth century, the 1-mile record has been lowered to 3 minutes, 43 seconds, and I am sure that I will witness the 3-minute-40-second barrier being bettered in the not-too-distant future.

In 1993 I had the pleasure of working with and treating one of my boyhood heroes Eamonn Coghlan, who became the first man over 40 years of age to break the 4-minute barrier for the mile. At age 40 he actually failed to achieve this mark. He had injuries that did not allow his body to run with ease and efficiency. The pundits said if he could not do it at 40 he would be best hanging up his spikes, as there would be no way he could do it at 41. Over a ten-week period, Eamonn stayed with me in my home in Gainesville, Florida. He trained away, quietly and consistently, and every evening I treated Eamonn for two to three hours, fine tuning and manipulating every sinew and muscle in his body. In February of 1994, at 41 years of age, Eamonn ran a mile in 3 minutes and 58 seconds, becoming the first and only human being over the age of 40 to break 4 minutes for the mile run. To set limits is to sell yourself short.

Everyone has demons. Some of the finest athletes and businesspeople and celebrities I have worked with have hidden demons. People can be talented and gifted in their chosen field but have weaknesses such as alcohol, drugs, gambling or simply over-spending. Such demons may be the result of abuse or something bad that happened years earlier, and they can ruin a life. There is only one solution: confront your demons. Face them head-to-head. Stare them directly in the eye, and fight them. That can be through counselling, or through walking away from the stressful situation or the relationship that caused it.

A few years ago, one of the international top sport stars rang me up in a very disturbed state. I knew him well and had worked with him for years. He came to me and produced a registered letter, which he had just received. It informed him that he had failed a drug test. He pleaded with me to come up with some solution to get him out of the mess. He wanted me to formulate a medication for a musculoskeletal injury and state the banned substance was an active ingredient, and that the amount of this substance in the prescribed medication resulted in the positive drug test.

I explained to him the simple message I was taught by my parents all through my life: do not hide from your problems. Do not lock them up in a closet and wish them to go away. My parents urged my sisters and me to come to them straight away with our problems when something could be done, not when it was too late. My friend handed his troubles over to me. He admitted to me later that, if I had not been there for him, he would not have had anyone else to turn to. I travelled with the sports star to the residence of his manager, and together we shared the registered letter with him. The manager was not happy, but he understood human frailty. The sports star was hit with a six-month ban, and he underwent special rehabilitation to help deal with the banned substance he had consumed and his drug abuse. He then reintegrated back into his profession a clean man. He did not know what to do in his hour of need, but he found a solution to confront his demons. Everything can be dealt with, if dealt with sensibly. I always draw on Rudyard Kipling's verse:

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;

If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two imposters just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,

And stoop and build ‘em up with worn out tools…

Be careful what you wish for. Certainly, 2003 was a year stacked with opportunity and commitments, and left me close to the brink of what my energy and time limits could handle. I spent seven weeks at high altitude in Albuquerque, New Mexico, seldom seeing daylight, as my days, from morning to night, were consumed with treating a group of great athletes. The most prolific was Paula Radcliffe, with whom I spent 4 to 5 hours each day working on her every muscle and sinew in preparation for an assault on her own world marathon record of 2 hours, 17 minutes and 42 seconds, which she had set in Chicago the previous October. A total of 25 to 30 hours lying on a treatment table each week, on top of running 140 to 150 miles, plus strength and conditioning sessions was the level of commitment that Paula applied to reach record-breaking heights.

People ask how I can treat just one athlete for up to five hours daily. Is it not counterproductive? And I would agree that, at times, I became overwhelmed by the intensity and magnitude of pummelling and stretching every sinew of Paula's body to make her tick like clockwork over the 26.2-mile distance. Whatever about it wearing out my hands, it certainly worked for Paula. She responded and benefited so much from this extensive hands-on treatment that she completed some of her training runs in eye-opening record-breaking times. The London Marathon on April 13, 2003 was when she would shock the world.

Several other top runners came to me in Albuquerque, ensuring that I spent several weeks stuck in a small apartment, treating from morning to bedtime, with no time for doing any physical training myself. Sonia O'Sullivan had been training in Melbourne, Australia and injured her Achilles tendon, and she flew to Albuquerque to receive intensive daily treatment. Elana Meyer, the 1992 Olympic 10,000-metre silver medallist from South Africa, had injured her hip and hamstring, and she flew across the world to see me. The US 1,500-metre champion Suzy Hamilton also flew down from Wisconsin and stayed three weeks, willing to wait her turn to get on the physio table. So, too, did US 5,000-metre record holder Bob Kennedy from Indiana, along with US steeplechase champion Pascal Dobert and Irish athletes Mark Carroll and Keith Kelly, who flew in from their training base in Florida.

Some nights I would go to bed and ask myself: how did I create this monster? Being in demand has its price, and there is no one more demanding than an elite athlete whose lifeline depends on staying healthy and injury-free. But it was all worthwhile. Paula Radcliffe ran like clockwork in the 2003 London Marathon, averaging 5 minutes and 11 seconds per mile, to achieve an amazing world record of 2 hours, 15 minutes and 25 seconds for the historic distance.

Back in Limerick after the London Marathon, feeling very unfit and with a patient list that had built up in my absence, I spent a full day sorting through stacks of correspondence and mail. Towards the end of a weary day, trawling through the mundane paperwork, an envelope with the Ironman logo on the top corner caught my attention. I opened it, slowly read it and just froze. Be careful what you wish for, indeed! Two years earlier, ecstatic after tackling my bottled-up fear and cycling across the Paynes Prairie outside Gainesville, Florida, I had told Cyle Sage that someday I would like to go back to Hawaii and participate in the Hawaii Ironman. The letter read:

Dear Michael Gerard Hartmann,

The Ironman Corporation has invited you as their guest to participate in the historic 25th Anniversary Hawaii Ironman which takes place on October 18, 2003 at Kailua-Kona, Hawaii.

Dumbfounded, I sat mesmerised for minutes, trying to figure out what I should do. I hadn't participated in a triathlon in over twelve years. I had not swum for almost as long, other than a splash in the sea on a sun holiday. When time allowed, I kept fit with a simple 30- or 40-minute run along the Shannon's river bank, yet in less than six months time I could be facing a full-blown Ironman…oh, my God!

It had actually been several weeks since the letter was sent and I had done virtually no exercise for nearly two months. A day later, I felt a cold coming on and a lingering cough had me sitting in the waiting room of a long-serving stalwart of the Limerick Triathlon Club, Dr Michael Griffin, at his practice in St John Square, Limerick. While waiting, I spotted the most gorgeous of gorgeous young women, an almost-six-foot beauty. During the consultation, I rattled Dr Griffin for a prescription to cure my cough, and then asked him about the long-legged blond girl who had grabbed my attention.

“That's Diane Bennis,” he replied. “She's one of the GPs working here – a fantastic girl.”

I had seen and heard enough. Once my cough was better, and after three days of pondering, I picked up the phone and dialled the number of the Griffin practice. I asked to speak to Dr Bennis, and asked her out on a date the following evening.

I had a patient list that would keep my hands and time full for months ahead, up to and including the 2004 Olympic Games. I had an invitation to participate in the 25th Anniversary Hawaii Ironman event. And, at age 43, I had met the first girl in my life who took my breath away, and who I would marry in 2006.