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As Good As Gold: 1 Woman, 9 Sports, 10 Countries, and a 2-Year Quest to Make the Summer Olympics Hardcover – May 4, 2010

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As Good As Gold: 1 Woman, 9 Sports, 10 Countries, and a 2-Year Quest to Make the Summer Olympics + The Road Less Taken: Lessons from a Life Spent Cycling + Rusch to Glory: Adventure, Risk & Triumph on the Path Less Traveled
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Product Details

  • Hardcover: 320 pages
  • Publisher: ESPN (May 4, 2010)
  • Language: English
  • ISBN-10: 1933060530
  • ISBN-13: 978-1933060538
  • Product Dimensions: 6.5 x 1 x 9.5 inches
  • Shipping Weight: 1.2 pounds (View shipping rates and policies)
  • Average Customer Review: 4.8 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (23 customer reviews)
  • Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #553,137 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

Editorial Reviews

About the Author

Kathryn Bertine, an elite triathlete and former professional figure skater, is the author of All the Sundays Yet to Come: A Skater's Journey. She graduated from Colgate University in 1997, and holds an MFA in nonfiction writing from the University of Arizona. Her essays have appeared in numerous publications, including ESPN The Magazine, US Weekly, Her Sports+Fitness, and Inside Triathlon. She currently lives and trains in Boulder, Colorado, and Tucson, Arizona.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

On Your Mark, Get Set … June 2006
 I grew up in the tiny, rather sheltered suburb of Bronxville, New York, just outside New York City in Westchester County. Please don’t hold it against me. I would have preferred being born in a log cabin in upstate New York, or perhaps a rural Western state with lots of bike paths, but my preferences were difficult to communicate while in utero. Westchester it was.

 While I navigated my way through the bizarre social structures of childhood/adolescence in Bronxville (for example, going to school for thirteen years with the same class of seventy kids), I spent most of my time in the humble city of Yonkers, at Murray’s Skating Rink, where I began figure skating in 1986 at age eleven. By twelve, I was putting in close to four hours a day, beginning at 4:45 a.m.—an ordeal from which my chauffeur, who doubled as my father, has yet to recover.

As far as I know, I never made a conscious decision to be an athlete. Athletics was hardwired in my DNA. On a warm September morning in 1983, I was picked last for kickball during a third-grade recess scrimmage. Something snapped. Wiping my sweaty palms on my Wrangler jeans and Pac Man T-shirt, I went Incredible Hulk on that red rubber ball and got my first taste of adrenaline off a grand slam kick. The dream took flight immediately; I was going to play kickball in the Olympics and no one was going to stop me. Except the International Olympic Committee, which still refuses to acknowledge kickball’s Olympic potential. 

When my kickball dreams were put on hold, I fell in love with figure skating. I fell in love with the physical effort. I fell in love with the coldness. I fell a lot, in general. At fourteen, I actually had a dream one night that I was at the Olympic Games. There were a lot of lights and screaming fans and a really nifty USA warmup suit. But I couldn’t see my feet. I didn’t know if I was wearing skates or not. The dream felt so real it woke me up. There were no screaming fans next to my bed, just the chhk chhk of the second hand on my Hello Kitty alarm clock. I never had that dream again, but I never forgot it. 

Despite my dedication to skating, I soon realized there was not enough talent in my limbs to get to the Olympics as a figure skater. I made it to the highest level of competitive skating, Senior Ladies, and competed with the best nationally throughout high school and college. But my talent and placings were never impressive enough for me to be considered the next American ice queen. Wanting to stay involved with the world of skating, I was left with two choices: coach the next generation or join a professional ice show. After graduating from college, I chose the latter, signing contracts with the Ice Capades (which quickly went bankrupt), Holiday on Ice (which made me wear an elephant costume), and Hollywood on Ice (which toured South America and paid us in IOUs handwritten on Post-its). What a damn fool mistake that was! Now that I’m older, of course, I subscribe to the If-I-hadn’t-donethat- then-I-wouldn’t-have-gotten-here view of life’s journey. One of the great perks of being a writer is that it turns out there are no mistakes in life, just a lot of long paragraphs greatly in need of editing.

In 1997 and 1998, I toured with these skating shows, learning the hard way that athletic ability took a back seat to physical appearance and corrupt management. Professional skating was about as athletic as professional pinball. There was no need for strong muscles and diligent training. We were simply required to look as Barbie-ish as possible. Lots of the women starved themselves, drank, and did drugs. I got out after a year. I needed to be an athlete again—the only lifestyle that made sense to me. 

I didn’t want to go back to amateur skating; a fresh start seemed better. I considered a return to rowing, a sport I had competed in at Colgate University. Unfortunately, there was not a lot of open water in Tucson, Arizona, where I started graduate school in creative writing. What is in southern Arizona are lots of cyclists, runners, and swimmers. I joined a local triathlon club. I was hooked. Being a triathlete was a hell of a lot better than wearing makeup and sequins and worrying about how many calories were in a cup of coffee. I decided to make a real push to become an elite triathlete. I moved to Boulder, Colorado, in 2003 and trained with world champion Siri Lindley. I improved. After six years as an amateur, I was good enough to turn professional and compete for money. I met the qualifications to race as a pro—placing in the top three at three amateur races in one season, within 10 percent of the winner’s time, and in races with no fewer than five hundred women. 

At about the same time, my writing life took flight when Little, Brown offered me a book contract to write about my life as a professional skater. All the Sundays Yet to Come hit the shelves in 2003. While my memoir was well received (Entertainment Weekly gave me an A- the same month John Grisham got a D+ and Toni Morrison got a B! Not that I’m competitive or anything. Noooo.), it didn’t launch me into literary stardom or pay a lot of the bills. I returned to substitute teaching and relied on that and my meager triathlon winnings to finance my chosen life of what could best be described as athletic slumming. Life was good, but not perfect. Because my triathlon skills were better suited for long-distance races—like the 140.6 mile Ironman— rather than the thirty-two-mile Olympic distance event, my Olympic dream seemed a little too dreamy. I just wasn’t fast enough to be one of the top three females at the Olympic trials. There was also the issue of my personal life falling apart. I was choreographing the closing ceremonies of my Engagement Games. Relationships—mine anyway—tended to become an emotional triathlon of jump in, give all, cry lots. I have multiple gold medals in this event. I was learning the hard way that my drive and motivation were great attributes as an athlete, but terrible faults in the I-can-fix-my-alcoholic-fiancé competition. I simply couldn’t understand how I could fix crooked derailleurs, dropped chains, stripped screws, locked pedals, broken laces, and leaking goggles but could not properly rewire another human being’s happy button. It took me years to realize the password to that control panel is strictly owner-operated. 

In the spring of 2006, I met with my two editors at the ESPN compound in Bristol, Connecticut, to discuss the intricate details of my assignment/Olympic quest. Surely, attempting to get to the Olympics in two short years necessitated intricate details. The conversation went something like this. 

“So, Kathryn, you have two years to try to make the 2008 Beijing Summer Olympics in any sport. What sport are you going to try?” 

“Well, I’m going to see which U.S. sports are lesser known and start there,” I said, knowing I wasn’t exactly a shoe-in for becoming a ’four-foot-eleven, eighty-eight-pound gymnast. Nor did I have the skill set required for popular sports such as soccer and basketball. My only (naive) hope was that the off-the-beaten-path, media-starved sports might be underpopulated and undertalented. 

“Okay. Try some sports and write about it for the magazine and web site. We’ll cover your travel and training expenses. You’ll get a monthly stipend for your articles,” ESPN said. 

“Okay!” I said. 

“Okay!” ESPN said. “Any questions?” 

Yeah, I’ve got questions. How the hell do I get to the Olympics in two years? Aren’t you going to help me with this? Do you have any buddies at the IOC? Is ESPN giving me this Olympic quest because you want to see me succeed or do you want some back page comedy sportswriting schtick that no one takes seriously? Because if it’s the latter, you’ve got the wrong girl,
 misters. Just because you’re ESPN doesn’t mean I’m going to let you edit or undermine my Olympic efforts as an athlete or a writer. Do you think you intimidate me? Do you think I’m gonna get all starry-eyed by your media magnitude? Can I meet Lance Armstrong? 

“No,” I lied. “No questions.” 

“Excellent! Keep in touch. Go get ’em.” 

Before I could figure out how to go get ’em, I had to go get myself a place where I could live and train and write and, most important, be happy again. My heart wasn’t ready to go back to Boulder, where my relationship ended. My mind couldn’t handle training for any summer sport in the climate and confines of New York City. The idea of moving somewhere new and unfamiliar was unsettling. I only had two years to attempt to get to the Olympics—and in new surroundings, given my capacity to get lost, I would lose some of that time just getting acclimated. I have the sense of direction of a gnat. So where could I base myself that felt familiar, comforting, and conducive to summer sports? Tucson, Arizona. Having graduated from the University of Arizona with an MFA in creative writing in 2000, I knew the ...

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Customer Reviews

4.8 out of 5 stars
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Whether you are an athlete or just love watching them perform, this book is so worth a read..
The author has a great sense of humor and an easy writing style that has you rollicking through the book as quick as she cycles!
James M
Kathryn Bertine is the best example of this I have seen since John Parker of Once a Runner fame.
Shalom Israel

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

5 of 5 people found the following review helpful By Thomas Gordon on May 17, 2010
Format: Hardcover Verified Purchase
Kathryn Bertine has written an amazing story here. The experience from the rink to the shell to the pool to the bike is great. Now, I want to book a flight to St. Kits and Nevis, and am rooting for her to succeed in London! If you like sports, if you are an athlete, if you have ever been on a bike, or if you even like to laugh, this is the perfect book for you.

This book arrived in the mail for me on Sat, and I read it in one sitting, going back and forth between inspired to follow my own dreams, and cackling on my couch at the hilarious aspects of the story.

Please, PLEASE give this book a try. I promise that you won't regret it!
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3 of 3 people found the following review helpful By Amy Picklesimer on May 25, 2013
Format: Kindle Edition Verified Purchase
A lovely story about the power of persistence, and some interesting insights into the inner workings of elite women's road cycling.
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2 of 2 people found the following review helpful By Kevin Quinley VINE VOICE on August 13, 2010
Format: Hardcover Verified Purchase
Kathryn Bertine has written an engaging first-person account of her quest to make an Olympic team, any Olympic team, at just about any sport and for any country. I first learned about her when I read her debut book, "All the Sundays Yet to Come: a Skater's Journey." No way you could have ever gotten me to read a book about ice skating, but it was a terrific book and a journey of her self-discovery during that phase of her life.

In her latest book, she expands upon the blog that she kept under an arrangement with ESPN Magazine to chronicle her attempt to make the 2008 Olympics. She attempts to make the US Olympic team in disciplines including: modern pentathlon, open water swimming, team handball, triathlon, rowing and bicycling. Unable to make the Olympic squad at any of these sports in the United States, she searches for citizenship from a list of countries in order to find one that will allow her to be competitive enough to qualify for the Beijing Olympics.

Earlier generations had George Plimpton. We have Kathryn Bertine, through which we can vicariously live our (and her) athletic fantasies. The fact that she was ultimately unsuccessful in making any Olympic team or in competing at the Olympics does not diminish the fact that her passion and wit shines through this book. She has an engaging writing style and a self-effacing sense of humor.

Some participants in these respective sports might find it insulting for anyone to have the pretensions of being able to just show up and make an Olympic team. Nowadays in sport as in other realms, specialization abounds. When I grew up, you could go to high school and try out for a team with a sport that you had never participated in and still have a good shot at making the squad.
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2 of 2 people found the following review helpful By Michael L. Grifka on July 5, 2010
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I loathe most books on sports with good reason: they are usually trite, cliched, recollections of either individual or team success. What makes Kathryn Bertine's account of attempting to qualify for the Olympics so engrossingly entertaining and surprisingly poignant? To date, she's failed in her Olympic dreams and succeeded in redefining the athlete's journey, which is what the reader really wants to understand better.
Bertine's As Good As Gold is a fast, good humored account of her previous athletic exploits, exploration of the lesser known Olympic sports, and return to her adult roots as a road cyclist.
This is a modern athlete's journey, supported and catalyzed by an ESPN boardroom interested in knowing: really, just how hard could it be to qualify for the Olympics. To what extent will a woman in her early 30s go to fulfill such a dream? Read the book and discover Kathryn's domestic experiences in some of the more esoteric sports (read: pentathalon, luge, race walking, team handball), the race to collect international cycling points on multiple continents, and the meaning of global citizenship.
As Good As Gold deserves more exposure than it has received so far. This is not a book on cycling. It's part Dave Barry on a bike, part Bruce Chatwin in the unknown: first person tone, light hearted, insightful, honest. This book has almost as much potential as does its author.
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2 of 2 people found the following review helpful By JKelly on June 8, 2010
Format: Hardcover Verified Purchase
My wife and I are endurance athletes so we really appreciate that performing well in competition is much more about the preparation and training than what takes place during the event itself. Kathryn Bertine knew this when the ESPN editors called her with the wild idea of giving her 2 years to make the Olympics 'in the sport of her choice'. We commented as we read the book about what guts it took for Bertine to even attempt to get a tryout for nine Olympic sports. How she did that, went through the tryouts themselves, found a sport she had a chance to excel in and then literally worked her butt off in that sport for months comprise the bulk of this book.

We felt the sweat, the tears, the pain, the few highs and the many lows but what we liked the most was that apparent defeat never kept the author down. We both went from sobbing at the depths of her resolve and efforts to laughing out loud at the hilarity of so many of her experiences. It was a great roller coaster ride, all accomplished with only words in print. What more could you ask from an author? A professional athlete who is a real writer! Who knew?!

A wonderful gift that thankful fathers can give their athlete daughters!
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