The USADA man

One of the drawbacks of being back on the U.S. Ski Team is the mandatory participation in the U.S. Anti-Doping pool. I understand why we have to be subjected to the humiliating and irritating practice of drug testing; I just don't like it. This process includes a "whereabouts filing" and random "out-of-competition" drug testing. Every athlete needs to fill out a form that says where they are going to be, morning and night, every day for three months at a time. On top of that, we have to pick an hour, every day, where we say we will be, so that a USADA man can show up whenever he feels like it, to perform a drug test. If they show up at your door within that hour and you aren't there, then you get a strike against you. Three strikes equal a positive drug test and a two-year suspension from the sport.

Last week, I finally got a visit from the USADA man. I can't remember what his name is so I'll just call him Jeff. The doorbell rang at 7:15 in the morning and I was still sleeping. The hour that I pick for a random visit is from 6:00-7:00AM so I know I'll be there…sleeping. My girlfriend, Suzanne, was the first one to the door. She just went through a recent surgery, so she was loopy on pain meds and she had a catheter strapped to her leg. We had spent so much time discussing USADA and the possibility of a "filing failure" that she couldn't contain her excitement that the USADA man showed up and I was actually there. I heard from a distance in her excited, yet scratchy tone "Oh my god, he's here. The USADA man is here. I can't believe it. Go pee in the cup!" she said as she climbed back into bed.

In my stupor, I got up to greet Jeff. Lance Armstrong just recently moved into the neighborhood so I wanted to say, "You're at the wrong house. Lance is about 10 blocks that way." But I held my tongue and introduced Jeff to the bathroom. I've been tested many times in my career so I wasn't surprised by any of the procedures. Jeff was very professional and business like. I made sure all the numbers on the bottles matched up. I was grateful that we were doing this in the morning because I had a full bladder. If I would have relieved myself before he got there it could have been hours before I could work up another sample.

Then, it was time to pee. Jeff said, "Lift up your shirt to above your belly button, and pull your pants down so that I can see the urine come out of your penis." Again, this was no surprise. This is always the procedure. But this time, I locked up. I got the dreaded stage fright. I held the cup out ready to receive my sample. I was holding my pants down and my shirt up. Jeff was silent…watching; and there was no pee. I called on my years of using sports psych to help me. I tried to relax, get in the zone, breathe; no pee. The more I tried to relax the more I tightened up. Then Jeff spoke. "Do you want me to run some water?" As if he had seen this a thousand times before. "Yes, please." I knew I could do it. "Just relax," I said to myself. Then, I figured it out. I pretended I was the only one there and I pulled the cup to the side to look at the water like I do every morning. I relaxed, and the urine flowed like the waters of the Colorado River. I was relieved.

We wrapped things up and I sent Jeff away with my pee sample. It was on the start of its journey through rigorous testing procedures to confirm that, yes, I am, and always have been, a clean, drug-free athlete. Jeff, and many like him are part of an army of scientists on a mission to ensure clean and fair competition. I may not like the 7:00am visits or the whereabouts filings, but I know, for the moment, it has to be done.