Activeness! Q&A: Scott Tinley
In my career as a freelance writer, I've interviewed hundreds of people and written too many stories to remember. About a year ago, I did a Q&A with former pro triathlete Scott Tinley for the inaugural issue of a local multisport magazine. Though I didn't get paid to do it, I enjoyed talking to Scott and writing up this interview as much as any piece I've ever put together. He was The Man when I was first getting into triathlon in the '90s, and our interview revealed a guy who's fascinating to talk to and who is just cut from a pretty cool cloth.
Because Activeness! has added tens of thousands of new readers since we first published Scott's Q&A last year, here it is again for all who missed out then. If you have seen it already, why not read it again?
And ST, if you should stumble across this on any of your Internet voyages, thanks again for talking to me. Hope you're still surfing and teaching and writing and that life is bringing nothing but tailwinds. - John
Update:
Here's Scott's new web site. He's now writing for a publication called Hall Of Fame Magazine. You also can read Scott's essays, fiction, non-fiction, and verse.
SCOTT TINLEY WRITES HIS LIFE'S NEXT CHAPTER
©2005 Activeness!
Two-time Hawaii Ironman champion Scott Tinley may have mellowed in retirement, but the sport’s California golden boy still is chasing — and making — plenty of waves. In this new phase of his life, the triathlon legend who for so long zeroed in on crushing his physical limits has focused his passion into the realm of the mind.
When I reached Scott Tinley in his office on a Monday morning in September, he had just returned from a weekend surfing trip that led him 200 miles up the Southern California coast from his home in Del Mar to search for waves in a spot north of Santa Barbara.
“Surfing is my gig,” says Tinley, a seventh-generation Californian who won nearly 100 triathlons over his 25-year pro career. “My father surfed. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid and through all my years in sports. It’s one thing I keep going back to.”
What do you love about surfing?
That’s like asking what I love about life. You have autonomy and freedom. It’s non-competitive and exciting. You are in a natural environment. I connect with the ocean and the whole experience pretty deeply.
Back when you were competing in triathlons, did you worry about getting hurt while surfing?
Unless the surf is really big or you’re doing stupid things, you have to work pretty hard to get hurt while surfing. It’s is not like racing motorcycles or hang-gliding. [At this point I decided not to mention straining my MCL a few years ago while learning to surf at Pacific Beach’s Tourmaline Surfing Park.]
In hindsight, I missed a lot of really good days surfing while I was out on my bike. I would be riding around looking down at the surf going, “Gosh, look at that!”
What was a monster training week like for you back in the early 1980s, during the prime of your career?
I’d do 350 to 400 miles on the bike, about 25,000 yards of swimming, and 75 to 80 miles of running. That was 35 to 40 hours. Throw in some stretching and weights. I was so obsessive about my training. I probably could have done half as much and done twice as well.
You didn’t have any models to follow.
We were all winging it. Guys like Scot Molina, Dave Scott and myself — we got lucky. Nobody had a coach. In the early days, it felt closer to play than competition.
Today there are so many great, experienced athletes and people are extremely intelligent about their training. As triathlon has become institutionalized, it has gone the way of many other sports. It’s more bureaucratic and there are rules about “right ways to train.” We had none of that.
Would you have been able to conform to that kind of structure?
Good question. I would have struggled. I struggled in the end with all the different professional organizations being proposed. You could see the writing on the wall. I’d butt heads with ITU [the International Triathlon Union] because I was an advocate for the athletes and I didn’t like what they were doing. And I still don’t like how they treat athletes.
Of course the financial opportunities are much greater today. But I’m lucky because I was able to compete, for the most part, on my own terms.
Did your massive amounts of training create any injury problems?
No. I had good biomechanics in my running and I stayed on trails as much as possible. And I was light: I weighed 155 pounds, which is what I weigh today. The trouble I have now is an arthritic hip. I believe that stems from trauma from some pretty bad bike crashes. I fell on it so many times and would just train through it instead of allowing it to properly heal.
How does that limit you now?
I would like to run more and faster. I run about 15 miles a week and I would like to run twice that. I run 7:30 miles but I would like to run the occasional 6:30. But in terms of long-term maladies, I’m lucky compared to a peer like Greg Welch or to these NFL players who are so beat up when they retire.
I read that you train 10 to 12 hours a week now?
I wouldn’t even call it training. I get out there on the paddleboat, go for an hour-and-a half bike ride, or swim in the ocean. It’s fun. It’s a stress release. It makes me happy. I know it is healthy for my body. It gets me outside. If I can roust up some friends, I enjoy the camaraderie. There are so many intrinsic benefits to physical activity beyond the competitive aspect.
Do you still race?
I go to three or four races a year. I went to Florida in August with Dave Scott and Scott Molina for a clinic and a sprint triathlon.
What do the local racers say when they see the “The Great Scotts” setting up their transition areas?
[Laughs]. They knew we were coming. We had a blast. Dave actually won it at age 51! That’s amazing.
Do you guys remain friends?
Sure. I just don’t see them as much. Scott lives in New Zealand and Dave is in Boulder.
Do you still get nervous before a race or a rush from doing it?
No. I could stop in the middle of a race and walk away. I do the best I can, but I don’t have any expectations because I haven’t invested the time. I don’t have the time, I don’t want to, and I’m physically not able to commit.
What’s one good piece of advice for age-group triathletes?
It’s so easy to train too hard and become obsessed with this sport. It can affect your life in positive and negative ways. You want to temper the negative and accentuate the positive. But when triathlon training has a negative effect, you want to step back and say, “My wife left me, my kids hate me, my dog doesn’t know me. I’m doing too much.”
In designing a training program, start by looking at your life and deciding what’s important. Then slide in your training around that. Or try to combine them. Get your spouses or kids involved. Take them on vacations for races. There are ways.
Do you have any favorite triathletes among those racing these days?
I don’t follow them much. Of the people I’ve hung out with, I’m a fan of Carol Montgomery. She’s nearing 40 and still doing well — I like her shtick. I like Simon Lessing because he’s an intelligent individual and a very good athlete who has a couple of kids and seems to be a balanced guy.
Do you still go to Kona for Ironman Hawaii?
I went last year to speak at the medical conference and I went for the 25th anniversary [in 2003]. But I no longer go on a regular basis.
Do you miss it?
No. I miss Hawaii and I miss seeing old friends, but the sport has changed — especially that event. It’s very business-like and a for-profit scene. That’s fine. If I were a businessperson I’d do the same thing. I don’t want to taint my memories of the purity that existed in the early days. If I do go, I have to put up my guard and just accept that this is what it is now.
Do you follow any pro sports?
Not really. I watched a little of Agassi playing in the U.S. Open. It’s interesting to see how the fans react and the fight in those guys’ eyes.
What are you teaching?
I’m teaching at San Diego State and Cal State San Marcos. I teach a class called “Sport in Society” that covers sociology and social theory in sport. I teach that and the occasional writing class at a community college.
What do you like about teaching?
Everything. It’s similar to athletics. You have autonomy. Preparation is important. You feel like you are doing some good. You are an entertainer of sorts in the classroom. Unfortunately, it’s not a very well-compensated gig in America. I earned more for some two-hour races than I will for teaching a semester-long course in which I’m spending hundreds of hours trying to impact America’s future leaders.
But you don’t do it for the money. I don’t have a huge overhead and I don’t have a lot of needs other than paying my daughter’s college tuition. I’m lucky — we don’t need a lot.
Do you enjoy being in an academic environment?
Having been so physical for so many years, it’s nice to throw myself into the mind. I get a gas out of hanging out in the pub and engaging in these elaborate philosophical conversations. Before I would have laughed at those types of people and said, “What a bunch of geeks!” Now I’m going, “Yeah man, that’s me!”
Your most recent book, Racing The Sunset, An Athlete's Quest for Life After Sport, deals with life after sports for professional athletes. Why did you write it?
For several reasons. First, it was something I needed to do to understand what I was experiencing psychologically.
What were you experiencing?
It was a classic case of being over-identified with something and not realizing it. Mine was not a sudden exit from the sport — I was fading away for a long time. When I finally left, I thought I would have lots of other opportunities and wouldn’t have problems adjusting. But the opposite happened and that took me by surprise. I was in a real funk for about two years. It affected my health.
How so?
For years I had been propping myself up with the constant release of various endorphin-style chemicals into my system. You don’t feel good until you go out for a run or swim. When you stop having that release, your body has to start all over and reach a level of homeostasis. That required a couple years of de-training.
Was it like withdrawing from a drug?
Absolutely. You are physically, psychologically, and emotionally addicted to what is being provided both from a chemical standpoint into your body and from a lifestyle perspective in terms of being outside doing all these activities. Then you don’t do them and it gets rough.
Part of my self-healing was to understand it. So I went back to school and studied it and did research. I did a master’s thesis that tried to take research threads to the next level and to explore new ideas. The culmination came with writing Racing the Sunset, which is part memoir and also has a lot of oral history. In writing the book I spoke about this topic with hundreds of ex-professional athletes, including a lot of A-listers.
Any stories hit you the hardest?
A lot of tragic stories don’t get told. Like the one about the guy who pitched in the majors for a year-and-a-half but threw out his arm and now is sleeping on cardboard under the bridge: Those stories still exist.
This whole concept of disposable heroes is troubling. We are in a disposable society. We go through cars, food, everything — it’s all very temporary. But when that ideology spills over to people, you have a real problem. In California the divorce rate is something like 62 percent. So nothing lasts, including our own ideals and ethical standards. As a critical thinker and having lived through it, I feel a responsibility to get the word out.
Did you succeed?
The book did OK. It’s actually selling better now based on word of mouth than it was when it came out two years ago. I receive one or two emails a week from people around the world telling me their stories and how the book resonated with them. Some tell me what helped them and others just thank me for sharing. That’s my reward.
I’m also trying to create a university institute that would be a clearinghouse or a networking group for various organizations that provide services for retired athletes. I’ll know soon if there is enough support to take this to the next level.
Can the general public relate to the plight of these athletes?
Many don’t give a damn about a retired pro. They say, “That guy has millions of dollars in the bank and he can be or do whatever he wants.” That’s fine, but a lot of people die rich and unhappy. They don’t need the money. They need other things.
Like what?
Like purpose, fulfillment, meaning, a reason for living, spirituality, camaraderie, a family. All the solid things that are not as fleeting as material possessions and everything this “culture of fame” in America has brought us.
Will Lance Armstrong struggle with that?
Lance is a different breed. I’ve known him since he was 14 when he came out to Southern California to train for a summer and lived a few doors down. He’s a good guy.
What do you like about him?
He’s still brash and outspoken and a little rough around the edges. But he honestly cares about people and about the people close to him. And he has done an incredible amount of good for cancer survivors. There are millions of people around the world who have been inspired by his athletic achievements. And he has given away a lot of money through his foundation. He has created this universality that a lot of athletic cultural icons never manage to do. Either they don’t take the time or they don’t understand their role.
Can Lance stay off the bike?
I don’t know — probably not. He’s too young. This whole deal with the French press is a little entertaining but it’s also disconcerting.
Is it lighting a fire under his ass?
But they [L’Equipe] aren’t going away. They love it. What does Lance have to gain? Is he really going to put it in their face? It’s like two kids fighting in a sandbox. The smarter kid gets up and walks away and says, “Fine, you take the sandbox and live there for the rest of your life because I’m going to go build a house.”
Could you tell when he was a teenager that Lance had what it took to be a champion?
He did have incredible inner strength. You knew he was going to reach a certain level. As far as triathlon goes, he was good swimmer and a great cyclist. With his body type, though, he could never run as fast as the sport demands. Even back then you had to run a 33:00-something 10K to be in the hunt to win a short-distance race. Of course now they run 30:30s. I think he made the right move to cycling!
Since you live in the San Diego area, I have to ask about Jessi Stensland. A buddy really wants to meet her: Can you hook him up?
[Laughs] Jessi is very cool! She has a good head on her shoulders. She is on the cusp, just deciding what to do with her life. For a while she was in the sports psychology master’s program where I teach at San Diego State. For now she is concentrating on her career. If she has some opportunities to make some money and travel and enjoy the lifestyle, then that’s awesome.
She should take it while she can?
Exactly. But then she needs to know when to walk away. That’s a problem for many people. They keep doing it, keep doing it, and all of a sudden they’re 38. Now what?
Can you give me an example of an athlete who made a successful transition?
Eric Heiden is one of my classic role models. He won five gold medals in speed skating at the 1980 Olympics but he always knew he wanted to be a doctor. His father and brother are doctors. He dabbled in cycling for a bit and then went back and finished his undergraduate degree. Here’s a guy with five gold medals in his pocket sitting in a classroom with a bunch of 18-year-olds trying to bump up his GPA so he can apply to medical school! He turned down a lot of sponsorship opportunities because he didn’t want to go that route. Of course now he is a successful orthopedic surgeon with a thriving practice and kids. He’s very happy. I admire Eric’s ability to know what was right for him long-term and then to make sacrifices to get there.
You’ve been writing for Triathlete magazine since 1985. Is it harder to write a good column or pull off a good race?
The column is what it is. The publishers of the magazine want to appease their readers and they have so many new ones. But after 20 years, I refuse to write one more column based on an anecdote about training. I like writing about sports but prefer it to involve social theory and some of the deeper, theoretical aspects. I look back at the columns of mine over the years that I think are most indicative of quality writing, and they don’t even mention sport or triathlon.
What do you want to write?
I want to write literature. I spent three-and-a-half years studying writing and literary theory and got my MFA in fiction writing. I completed a full-length novel that’s being shopped. And I have a collection of short stories coming behind that.
Do they involve sports?
Not at all. I’m fortunate to have found another passion. People are lucky if they find one thing in their life they truly enjoy and want to do for a career. If I can have a go at teaching and writing and trying to publish a book every couple of years, then I will have hit the lottery twice.
Do you see some parallels in terms of endurance sports, teaching, and writing? You’re often flying solo.
Certainly I’m not working against personality type. I know I wouldn’t be happy in a cubicle working for somebody else. And I know I can’t sell anything. When we had the Tinley clothing line, they would tell me to go do a sales gig and I was like, “Oh man, I can’t sell anything. Just give it away!”
I still have one of your shirts with the mesh underarms.
That was one of our problems: It was such quality stuff that it never fell apart! People would buy three items and keep them for years. [laughs]
Ever been to St. Louis?
I did a little race there once and went again when I was working with Anheuser-Busch. It’s a pretty cool place but it was freezing cold.
Scott, what’s the secret of life?
My secret is different than your secret. The idea of making play your passion and passion your play is a good one. Find out what you like and do it as well as you can. If you can kick ass with what you are passionate about, then you’ll figure out a way to make money and to make that your career so you can do it all day.
The problem is it’s getting more difficult to feel happy because the media is trying to make us unhappy so they can sell us things. The secret of life is to kill your television!
Because Activeness! has added tens of thousands of new readers since we first published Scott's Q&A last year, here it is again for all who missed out then. If you have seen it already, why not read it again?
And ST, if you should stumble across this on any of your Internet voyages, thanks again for talking to me. Hope you're still surfing and teaching and writing and that life is bringing nothing but tailwinds. - John
Update:
Here's Scott's new web site. He's now writing for a publication called Hall Of Fame Magazine. You also can read Scott's essays, fiction, non-fiction, and verse.
SCOTT TINLEY WRITES HIS LIFE'S NEXT CHAPTER
©2005 Activeness!
Two-time Hawaii Ironman champion Scott Tinley may have mellowed in retirement, but the sport’s California golden boy still is chasing — and making — plenty of waves. In this new phase of his life, the triathlon legend who for so long zeroed in on crushing his physical limits has focused his passion into the realm of the mind.
When I reached Scott Tinley in his office on a Monday morning in September, he had just returned from a weekend surfing trip that led him 200 miles up the Southern California coast from his home in Del Mar to search for waves in a spot north of Santa Barbara.
“Surfing is my gig,” says Tinley, a seventh-generation Californian who won nearly 100 triathlons over his 25-year pro career. “My father surfed. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid and through all my years in sports. It’s one thing I keep going back to.”
What do you love about surfing?
That’s like asking what I love about life. You have autonomy and freedom. It’s non-competitive and exciting. You are in a natural environment. I connect with the ocean and the whole experience pretty deeply.
Back when you were competing in triathlons, did you worry about getting hurt while surfing?
Unless the surf is really big or you’re doing stupid things, you have to work pretty hard to get hurt while surfing. It’s is not like racing motorcycles or hang-gliding. [At this point I decided not to mention straining my MCL a few years ago while learning to surf at Pacific Beach’s Tourmaline Surfing Park.]
In hindsight, I missed a lot of really good days surfing while I was out on my bike. I would be riding around looking down at the surf going, “Gosh, look at that!”
What was a monster training week like for you back in the early 1980s, during the prime of your career?
I’d do 350 to 400 miles on the bike, about 25,000 yards of swimming, and 75 to 80 miles of running. That was 35 to 40 hours. Throw in some stretching and weights. I was so obsessive about my training. I probably could have done half as much and done twice as well.
You didn’t have any models to follow.
We were all winging it. Guys like Scot Molina, Dave Scott and myself — we got lucky. Nobody had a coach. In the early days, it felt closer to play than competition.
Today there are so many great, experienced athletes and people are extremely intelligent about their training. As triathlon has become institutionalized, it has gone the way of many other sports. It’s more bureaucratic and there are rules about “right ways to train.” We had none of that.
Would you have been able to conform to that kind of structure?
Good question. I would have struggled. I struggled in the end with all the different professional organizations being proposed. You could see the writing on the wall. I’d butt heads with ITU [the International Triathlon Union] because I was an advocate for the athletes and I didn’t like what they were doing. And I still don’t like how they treat athletes.
Of course the financial opportunities are much greater today. But I’m lucky because I was able to compete, for the most part, on my own terms.
Did your massive amounts of training create any injury problems?
No. I had good biomechanics in my running and I stayed on trails as much as possible. And I was light: I weighed 155 pounds, which is what I weigh today. The trouble I have now is an arthritic hip. I believe that stems from trauma from some pretty bad bike crashes. I fell on it so many times and would just train through it instead of allowing it to properly heal.
How does that limit you now?
I would like to run more and faster. I run about 15 miles a week and I would like to run twice that. I run 7:30 miles but I would like to run the occasional 6:30. But in terms of long-term maladies, I’m lucky compared to a peer like Greg Welch or to these NFL players who are so beat up when they retire.
I read that you train 10 to 12 hours a week now?
I wouldn’t even call it training. I get out there on the paddleboat, go for an hour-and-a half bike ride, or swim in the ocean. It’s fun. It’s a stress release. It makes me happy. I know it is healthy for my body. It gets me outside. If I can roust up some friends, I enjoy the camaraderie. There are so many intrinsic benefits to physical activity beyond the competitive aspect.
Do you still race?
I go to three or four races a year. I went to Florida in August with Dave Scott and Scott Molina for a clinic and a sprint triathlon.
What do the local racers say when they see the “The Great Scotts” setting up their transition areas?
[Laughs]. They knew we were coming. We had a blast. Dave actually won it at age 51! That’s amazing.
Do you guys remain friends?
Sure. I just don’t see them as much. Scott lives in New Zealand and Dave is in Boulder.
Do you still get nervous before a race or a rush from doing it?
No. I could stop in the middle of a race and walk away. I do the best I can, but I don’t have any expectations because I haven’t invested the time. I don’t have the time, I don’t want to, and I’m physically not able to commit.
What’s one good piece of advice for age-group triathletes?
It’s so easy to train too hard and become obsessed with this sport. It can affect your life in positive and negative ways. You want to temper the negative and accentuate the positive. But when triathlon training has a negative effect, you want to step back and say, “My wife left me, my kids hate me, my dog doesn’t know me. I’m doing too much.”
In designing a training program, start by looking at your life and deciding what’s important. Then slide in your training around that. Or try to combine them. Get your spouses or kids involved. Take them on vacations for races. There are ways.
Do you have any favorite triathletes among those racing these days?
I don’t follow them much. Of the people I’ve hung out with, I’m a fan of Carol Montgomery. She’s nearing 40 and still doing well — I like her shtick. I like Simon Lessing because he’s an intelligent individual and a very good athlete who has a couple of kids and seems to be a balanced guy.
Do you still go to Kona for Ironman Hawaii?
I went last year to speak at the medical conference and I went for the 25th anniversary [in 2003]. But I no longer go on a regular basis.
Do you miss it?
No. I miss Hawaii and I miss seeing old friends, but the sport has changed — especially that event. It’s very business-like and a for-profit scene. That’s fine. If I were a businessperson I’d do the same thing. I don’t want to taint my memories of the purity that existed in the early days. If I do go, I have to put up my guard and just accept that this is what it is now.
Do you follow any pro sports?
Not really. I watched a little of Agassi playing in the U.S. Open. It’s interesting to see how the fans react and the fight in those guys’ eyes.
What are you teaching?
I’m teaching at San Diego State and Cal State San Marcos. I teach a class called “Sport in Society” that covers sociology and social theory in sport. I teach that and the occasional writing class at a community college.
What do you like about teaching?
Everything. It’s similar to athletics. You have autonomy. Preparation is important. You feel like you are doing some good. You are an entertainer of sorts in the classroom. Unfortunately, it’s not a very well-compensated gig in America. I earned more for some two-hour races than I will for teaching a semester-long course in which I’m spending hundreds of hours trying to impact America’s future leaders.
But you don’t do it for the money. I don’t have a huge overhead and I don’t have a lot of needs other than paying my daughter’s college tuition. I’m lucky — we don’t need a lot.
Do you enjoy being in an academic environment?
Having been so physical for so many years, it’s nice to throw myself into the mind. I get a gas out of hanging out in the pub and engaging in these elaborate philosophical conversations. Before I would have laughed at those types of people and said, “What a bunch of geeks!” Now I’m going, “Yeah man, that’s me!”
Your most recent book, Racing The Sunset, An Athlete's Quest for Life After Sport, deals with life after sports for professional athletes. Why did you write it?
For several reasons. First, it was something I needed to do to understand what I was experiencing psychologically.
What were you experiencing?
It was a classic case of being over-identified with something and not realizing it. Mine was not a sudden exit from the sport — I was fading away for a long time. When I finally left, I thought I would have lots of other opportunities and wouldn’t have problems adjusting. But the opposite happened and that took me by surprise. I was in a real funk for about two years. It affected my health.
How so?
For years I had been propping myself up with the constant release of various endorphin-style chemicals into my system. You don’t feel good until you go out for a run or swim. When you stop having that release, your body has to start all over and reach a level of homeostasis. That required a couple years of de-training.
Was it like withdrawing from a drug?
Absolutely. You are physically, psychologically, and emotionally addicted to what is being provided both from a chemical standpoint into your body and from a lifestyle perspective in terms of being outside doing all these activities. Then you don’t do them and it gets rough.
Part of my self-healing was to understand it. So I went back to school and studied it and did research. I did a master’s thesis that tried to take research threads to the next level and to explore new ideas. The culmination came with writing Racing the Sunset, which is part memoir and also has a lot of oral history. In writing the book I spoke about this topic with hundreds of ex-professional athletes, including a lot of A-listers.
Any stories hit you the hardest?
A lot of tragic stories don’t get told. Like the one about the guy who pitched in the majors for a year-and-a-half but threw out his arm and now is sleeping on cardboard under the bridge: Those stories still exist.
This whole concept of disposable heroes is troubling. We are in a disposable society. We go through cars, food, everything — it’s all very temporary. But when that ideology spills over to people, you have a real problem. In California the divorce rate is something like 62 percent. So nothing lasts, including our own ideals and ethical standards. As a critical thinker and having lived through it, I feel a responsibility to get the word out.
Did you succeed?
The book did OK. It’s actually selling better now based on word of mouth than it was when it came out two years ago. I receive one or two emails a week from people around the world telling me their stories and how the book resonated with them. Some tell me what helped them and others just thank me for sharing. That’s my reward.
I’m also trying to create a university institute that would be a clearinghouse or a networking group for various organizations that provide services for retired athletes. I’ll know soon if there is enough support to take this to the next level.
Can the general public relate to the plight of these athletes?
Many don’t give a damn about a retired pro. They say, “That guy has millions of dollars in the bank and he can be or do whatever he wants.” That’s fine, but a lot of people die rich and unhappy. They don’t need the money. They need other things.
Like what?
Like purpose, fulfillment, meaning, a reason for living, spirituality, camaraderie, a family. All the solid things that are not as fleeting as material possessions and everything this “culture of fame” in America has brought us.
Will Lance Armstrong struggle with that?
Lance is a different breed. I’ve known him since he was 14 when he came out to Southern California to train for a summer and lived a few doors down. He’s a good guy.
What do you like about him?
He’s still brash and outspoken and a little rough around the edges. But he honestly cares about people and about the people close to him. And he has done an incredible amount of good for cancer survivors. There are millions of people around the world who have been inspired by his athletic achievements. And he has given away a lot of money through his foundation. He has created this universality that a lot of athletic cultural icons never manage to do. Either they don’t take the time or they don’t understand their role.
Can Lance stay off the bike?
I don’t know — probably not. He’s too young. This whole deal with the French press is a little entertaining but it’s also disconcerting.
Is it lighting a fire under his ass?
But they [L’Equipe] aren’t going away. They love it. What does Lance have to gain? Is he really going to put it in their face? It’s like two kids fighting in a sandbox. The smarter kid gets up and walks away and says, “Fine, you take the sandbox and live there for the rest of your life because I’m going to go build a house.”
Could you tell when he was a teenager that Lance had what it took to be a champion?
He did have incredible inner strength. You knew he was going to reach a certain level. As far as triathlon goes, he was good swimmer and a great cyclist. With his body type, though, he could never run as fast as the sport demands. Even back then you had to run a 33:00-something 10K to be in the hunt to win a short-distance race. Of course now they run 30:30s. I think he made the right move to cycling!
Since you live in the San Diego area, I have to ask about Jessi Stensland. A buddy really wants to meet her: Can you hook him up?
[Laughs] Jessi is very cool! She has a good head on her shoulders. She is on the cusp, just deciding what to do with her life. For a while she was in the sports psychology master’s program where I teach at San Diego State. For now she is concentrating on her career. If she has some opportunities to make some money and travel and enjoy the lifestyle, then that’s awesome.
She should take it while she can?
Exactly. But then she needs to know when to walk away. That’s a problem for many people. They keep doing it, keep doing it, and all of a sudden they’re 38. Now what?
Can you give me an example of an athlete who made a successful transition?
Eric Heiden is one of my classic role models. He won five gold medals in speed skating at the 1980 Olympics but he always knew he wanted to be a doctor. His father and brother are doctors. He dabbled in cycling for a bit and then went back and finished his undergraduate degree. Here’s a guy with five gold medals in his pocket sitting in a classroom with a bunch of 18-year-olds trying to bump up his GPA so he can apply to medical school! He turned down a lot of sponsorship opportunities because he didn’t want to go that route. Of course now he is a successful orthopedic surgeon with a thriving practice and kids. He’s very happy. I admire Eric’s ability to know what was right for him long-term and then to make sacrifices to get there.
You’ve been writing for Triathlete magazine since 1985. Is it harder to write a good column or pull off a good race?
The column is what it is. The publishers of the magazine want to appease their readers and they have so many new ones. But after 20 years, I refuse to write one more column based on an anecdote about training. I like writing about sports but prefer it to involve social theory and some of the deeper, theoretical aspects. I look back at the columns of mine over the years that I think are most indicative of quality writing, and they don’t even mention sport or triathlon.
What do you want to write?
I want to write literature. I spent three-and-a-half years studying writing and literary theory and got my MFA in fiction writing. I completed a full-length novel that’s being shopped. And I have a collection of short stories coming behind that.
Do they involve sports?
Not at all. I’m fortunate to have found another passion. People are lucky if they find one thing in their life they truly enjoy and want to do for a career. If I can have a go at teaching and writing and trying to publish a book every couple of years, then I will have hit the lottery twice.
Do you see some parallels in terms of endurance sports, teaching, and writing? You’re often flying solo.
Certainly I’m not working against personality type. I know I wouldn’t be happy in a cubicle working for somebody else. And I know I can’t sell anything. When we had the Tinley clothing line, they would tell me to go do a sales gig and I was like, “Oh man, I can’t sell anything. Just give it away!”
I still have one of your shirts with the mesh underarms.
That was one of our problems: It was such quality stuff that it never fell apart! People would buy three items and keep them for years. [laughs]
Ever been to St. Louis?
I did a little race there once and went again when I was working with Anheuser-Busch. It’s a pretty cool place but it was freezing cold.
Scott, what’s the secret of life?
My secret is different than your secret. The idea of making play your passion and passion your play is a good one. Find out what you like and do it as well as you can. If you can kick ass with what you are passionate about, then you’ll figure out a way to make money and to make that your career so you can do it all day.
The problem is it’s getting more difficult to feel happy because the media is trying to make us unhappy so they can sell us things. The secret of life is to kill your television!
posted by John at Saturday, October 07, 2006
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