A Kind of Grace by Jackie Joyner-Kersee

Author:Jackie Joyner-Kersee [JOYNER-KERSEE, JACKIE]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: BIO016000
ISBN: 9780446930277
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 1999-07-28T04:00:00+00:00

16

Back on Track

With Bobby coaching me, I was happy to be competing in track and field again. I looked forward to practice each day. I felt like my old self.

I won the 1982 NCAA heptathlon competition as a sophomore, scoring 6,099 points and setting an NCAA record. I repeated as champion in 1983, with a total of 6,365 points, another NCAA record.

Having put my athletic career back on track and confronted my grief over my mother's death, I was ready to tackle my anger toward my father. Blaming him for Momma's death was wrong. Disrespecting him was wrong, too. He wasn't perfect in my eyes; but he was the only father I had. I'd already lost one parent. I didn't want to shut the other one out of my life permanently. So, while I was home for the summer after my sophomore year, I spent time with Daddy, talking about what we'd been through. We sat on the living room sofa at the house. He didn't apologize for anything he'd done. And I didn't excuse his behavior. Like two peace negotiators, we decided to focus on the things we agreed on. “What's past is over,” I said. “The bottom line is, we're family and we need to stick together.”

He agreed. “I support everything you're doing at UCLA and I'm proud of you. But I'm the parent and you can't tell me how to live my life,” he said.

Gradually, the gulf between us narrowed and we were able to peacefully coexist.

By 1983, by junior year, I was focused on the upcoming Olympics. My leg muscles were rock hard, thanks to Bobby's running drills. But my overall health was only fair. For about a year, I'd endured chronic respiratory problems. I had one cold and bronchial infection after another. The condition flared up whenever I trained hard. First came the shortness of breath—a couple of times, my chest tightened up and I started wheezing as I strained to catch my breath. But after resting for a few minutes, the trouble subsided and I was fine.

I'd experienced similar problems during basketball practice. But I hid it from Coach Moore by running to the back of the line or crouching down behind my teammates until I caught my breath. Knowing what a stickler she was for conditioning, I didn't want her to think I was out of shape.

Bobby had to drive me to the student health center several times when my chest tightened up and the breathing problems became serious. The doctors there told me it was bronchitis and walking pneumonia. Bobby said there was no such thing as walking pneumonia. He kept nagging me to see a specialist.

“These aren't ordinary colds or pneumonia or bronchitis attacks, Jackie,” he said one day on the track as I struggled to catch my breath. “I don't care what the doctors at student health say. You've got a serious respiratory problem. The same thing happens to Jeanette Bolden and she's a severe asthmatic. You need to go to a specialist and have it checked out.

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