Heartbreak Blues
Heading into the USA Olympic Trials, no one seemed to be more of a lock to make the team than Keni Harrison in the women’s 100 meter hurdles. Heading into the meet, Harrison had run the four fastest times in the world this year, including an American record 12.24 at the Prefontaine classic in June. Even in terrible conditions in Stockholm two weeks later, Harrison won easily in 12.62, and was looking unbeatable.
But she didn’t make the US team. In the final, she finished sixth, and looked very sloppy doing it.
So, what happened? That’s the question this article will attempt to address.
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A little background first, for those of you who don’t know. I coached Keni as her private hurdles coach during her last two years of high school. She first came go me in October of her junior year, after having finished second in the 300 hurdles in the NC state meet as a sophomore. At that point in her athletic career, she was still torn between soccer and track. Her success in the 300 hurdles, with basically no hurdle training at all, convinced her that she could be really good in the hurdles if she devoted her attention to them.
Long story short, she went on to win states in both hurdle events that year, as well as the following year. She also won major meets at the national level and received significant accolades for her achievements.
Throughout her collegiate career, first at Clemson and then at Kentucky, Keni and I stayed in touch and remained close. To this day, she still sends me video clips of practice reps and calls me after her races to ask for my input and to keep me in the loop in regards to how she was feeling. Usually, she calls me a few hours after a race. After the Olympic Trials final, she called the following day.
So my conjectures as to what went wrong are based on my natural “coach’s intuition,” my understanding of Keni’s competitive nature, and that day-after phone conversation.
Round one of the women’s hurdles went fine. Keni cruised to an easy victory despite a less-than-stellar start, and her time of 12.57 seemed to indicate that she was on her way to challenging her personal best and, consequently, the world record.
The next day, it just happened to be pouring down rain during the semifinals, and because Keni was in the third of the three heats, that meant she, along with the other women in her heat, spent more time standing in the rain prior to their race.
Visibility was limited. Just seeing the hurdles was a challenge. Keni fell behind Queen Harrison early, and never caught up. Her time of 13.92 was by far her season’s slowest, and didn’t bode well for the finals, which were scheduled to go off in just two hours.
“The rain definitely threw me off,” she said. More than anything, it threw off her confidence. Now, instead of thinking about dominating and chasing a world record, she was thinking about making the team, making sure that no more than two people beat her.
Heading into the finals, she wasn’t mentally ready. She’d lost her competitive edge, that quiet, self-assured “I got this” self-confidence. The storm on the track had passed, but the storm in her heart and mind raged on.
Again, she got out slow, and, for whatever reason, wasn’t able to shift into another gear at any point in the race. Her lateral movement in the lane was the worst it had ever been. She was hitting hurdles. In short, she fell apart.
But why?
What I learned about Keni, from day one, is that she is a very private person who is all about business. She is quiet, introverted, and driven. The biggest thing I gleaned from our phone conversation was that her sudden rise into superstardom had proven too much to handle. The attention hadn’t been so bad at previous meets, but at the Trials, the spotlight was on her from the beginning.
She was no longer Keni Harrison of the University of Kentucky, or Keni Harrison NCAA champion. Now she was Keni Harrison, AMERICAN RECORD HOLDER. That made her a story. Everyone wanted to see if the American record holder could drop a few hundredths and break the world record.
She was constantly being interviewed, and some of the questions were personal. Keni was adopted by her parents, and most of her 13 siblings were adopted as well. She was asked if she plans on seeking out her birth parents – a question she did not want to be bothered with at the biggest track meet of her life.
During warm-ups prior to each round, a TV camera stayed fixed on her. Every time she looked up, a camera was in her face. She didn’t know whether to smile and wave or just ignore them. What she did know was that she wished they would go away.
She noticed that the more experienced stars, like Justin Gatlin and Allyson Felix, were similarly magnets for attention, yet they seemed so at ease with the cameras, with being in the spotlight.
So yeah, the pressure got to her. The heightened expectations, the constant media attention, the whole world watching to see what she was going to do. It got to her. It overwhelmed her.
She’ll be a better hurdler, and a better person, for the experience. As she told me herself, “my body is more advanced than my mind.” She marvels at the times she has been able to run this year, with such ease of effort, and acknowledges that despite her phenomenal achievements, she still cherishes her privacy, still prefers to fly under the radar – something that has become impossible, and that will remain impossible as her career continues.
At age 23, her best days are still ahead of her. Her goals for the rest of 2016 are to win the Diamond League standings and to break the world record. “My season isn’t over,” she said.
Personally, I’d never seen her fall apart at a major competition like that. All she had to do was duplicate what she’d been doing all year long, and she would’ve made that team.
But it’s never that simple. The mental side of track and field is a very real thing. I have no doubt that Keni will come back from this major disappointment stronger than ever, better equipped to handle all the attention that comes with being a marquee figure in the sport.
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