A New Zealand athlete travelling to the United States is nothing new. However the topic is one that is frequently debated, with several arguments, often using hypothetical examples about the pros and cons of leaving. I read the discussions; spent the better part of a year searching for what I thought was the right school, and fundraised to make it possible. I was also lucky enough to be an athlete under Rees Buck who, as an 18 year old, had left to the United States straight out of high school to run at the NCAA power-house, Western State College of Colorado. However, no matter how much I thought I knew, and no matter how often I spoke to those who had made the same journey before, it could only go so far. You cannot be taught how things will be before leaving. Granted, you can listen to the experiences of others, but those experience are purely individual and affect each in a unique way. This article is not meant to be persuasive of leaving or staying in New Zealand, rather, an account of what is recognised as the hardest period; leaving and settling in. Although there may be similarities between my experience, and that of, say, my good friend Carl McKenzie at Villanova in Philadelphia, there are very different variables that have affected both of our transitions. The uniqueness of each situation is not to be underestimated. As I write, I am surrounded by a sea of white in a State declared with an Influenza epidemic and am spending my days running under layer after layer or working out on a treadmill. The Kiwi Contingent at Drake University in Iowa may be cold, but I doubt they have experienced -39celsius. Conversely, few of us would be as warm all year around as Danny Shaw and his legion of foreigners at Lamar University in Beaumont, Texas.
It renders the treadmill a necessity
I am unashamedly a student of the sport and its history. As a 16 year old I was well aware of Nick Willis, Adrian Blincoe and Mike Aish. I was also well aware they did not live in New Zealand. They were based in the US and were running times faster than anyone on our home soil. Seeing this at such a young age made a lasting impression. I had already seen and raced all over New Zealand and the prospect of doing the same within the United States was a dream that followed me for the next three years. The possibility of representing New Zealand seemed distant, but for the time being I would be more than content with running in the US. It would serve as the goal always in the back of my mind. I always had reason to get up in the morning.

I am not the most talented of athletes, nor the most accomplished, I did however leave New Zealand in the middle of 2007 having run an 8.21 3k and 4.13 mile, seemingly respectable for someone who had just turned 19. I was not short of competition, training partners, facilities, money or gear. I was however, short of experience. I did not leave because I was not running fast enough, or because those around me were not pushing me to succeed. I left because I wanted the experience I had read and dreamed about. The over-dramatic writings of Chris Lear played probably the most significant role in my decision to come to Colorado. The mountains, the altitude, and the camaraderie of one of the most successful cross-country teams in the United States were things I was eager to be a part of. Upon hearing from Colorado University's Mark Wetmore that his squad would be made up of American athletes only, I was not too disappointed. Mentioned in Lear's book "Running with the Buffaloes" were the results of "DII power-house Western State College". They had more mountains, higher elevation, and had won the Division II National Cross-Country crown six times in seven years. Conveniently, my new coach happened to have spent five years running there. Although I was in contact with other schools, my good friend and training partner throughout my time in Wellington, Scott Ferguson, knew as well as I did that the decision to go to Western was essentially made as soon as I was first offered a scholarship in January of 2007.
The months prior to leaving were difficult to describe, I found it strange that I never did become excited about leaving, even to the point when I was on the plane. I had an amazing environment in Wellington, and leaving had become a lot harder than I had imagined as a 5th former at Napier Boy's High School.
In Gunnison
I arrived in Gunnison late on June 1st, which happened to be the longest June 1st of my life. As the sole surviving Kiwi on the Western State team, I was lodging with Nelson's own Kim Hogarth for the summer. The night I arrived was the first of many occasions I wanted to leave. One of the biggest issues facing a foreign student-athlete is finance. Most New Zealanders are enrolled in a Division 1 school where finance is not an issue. I chose Western because of its location, its history and whom I thought was coaching, not on where I would receive the most gear or money. The point is, a "full-ride" at Western means you work the summer (If you happen to stay) and at least 2 hours a night during the semester. The issues surrounding money caused me the most stress. Without the help of my family there would have been no way I could have stayed. I tried to account for what I would need when I first arrived, but as Kim explained the financial situation that I would be in, I realised it was a very different scenario to what had been described to me by the coaching staff on the phone before arriving. I thought I had asked the right questions regarding finance for rent, books etc. Each time my questions were answered with "That'll all be taken care of", or "That will be a very minimal cost". I felt secure, but I soon realised that this is how a school is supposed to make you feel. I was understandably frustrated. In the coming months the costs that were supposed to be "very minimal" were US$300 a semester for books and a US$800 house deposit. My refund cheque to cover this, as well as all living and running expenses was just over US$1200 a semester. As expected, two days after I arrived I was working 8 hours a day. Even so I had arrived and was living out my dream.
Kiwis at Western had traditionally gotten by through the handing down of essentials; furniture, cutlery, towels etc. Things you don't really think about when you're planning to come over. Kim made sure that I had what I needed. It seems like a small issue, but when you have just arrived on the other side of the world and things are very different than you expected, issues can escalate quickly.

The first night I really felt like things would work out was the first night I met Mike and Nicole Aish. As mentioned earlier, I am a student of the sport and to Mike and Nicole's relative surprise; I knew a fair amount about both of them and their careers, particularly Mike's. Discussion about the team was delicate. I had only found out a week or so before my arrival that long-time coach Vandenbusche would not be coaching, and that Mike would not have anything to do with the program. It had been another un-expectancy that made my transition all the more difficult. Nonetheless, Mike and Nicole were more than welcoming and being in Gunnison immediately became easier. Such is the feeling I am sure athletes around the US who attend schools with other Kiwis on the team are assured with. Of course Kim was on the team with me, but I can say that his company differed significantly to that of a regular sophomore, with the exception of the night out following the National Cross-Country Championships in Missouri!
I had long read about training at altitude, it is however, difficult to describe. For three months I was reduced to little more than jogging, while a day off a week became essential for recovery. Mike Aish described it too me as "running with weights on, and when you get to sea level, you take those weights off". Altitude and dealing with its affects have continued to be variables which are often very hard to deal with. In Wellington I trained hard and consistently week after week, feeling tired was usually something short-lived and remedied by an easy day or two. However, after spending over 12 months living and training at almost 8,000ft (2,438m) above sea-level, feeling tired has become something of everyday life. Never before has an afternoon sleep been such a necessity. Moreover, travelling down to sea-level affects everyone differently and is still something very new to me.
I began the cross-country season in good shape, Rees and I had planned my months leading into September carefully, having me fit and strong when I needed to be. My first two races were above most peoples expectations; I finished as 3rd man on a team that would go on to be narrowly defeated at the National meet less than two months later, and did it at 7,500ft. Unfortunately this success was short-lived. Each week I would talk to Rees regarding the sessions I had done. He became increasingly concerned with the splits I was hitting, which were sometimes upwards of 15secs faster than he had run on the same loops in his final year at Western. The coaches had seen me race and were convinced that I needed to be amongst the 'top guys' during workouts, all of whom were either born and raised at altitude, or had been there for at least two years. I was coming into my fourth month. My fatigue was not something gradual, it was sudden. Within a week I had gone from finishing a 5x mile on 90secs recovery with a 4.46 (at 8,000ft, remember), hanging from Kim Hogarth's shorts, to being entirely drained for the rest of the week. The week turned into over two months of struggling to run at any level. I had been pushed over the limit, and living at 8,000ft was making it impossible to recover. I lost all confidence in the coaching staff when I was never slowly transitioned back into training; everything was all out or not at all. Everyday I was over the line but was given no other choice, by the middle of October there is generally only the top 8 guys left training together, so the luxury of sitting in a slower pack during a workout is quickly lost. I was getting deeper and deeper into a hole that I had never experienced. This would take more than one or two easy days and is something only those who have spent a considerable amount of time at significant altitude would understand. One day you are in the best shape of your life, the next your season is over. It came so quick that there was nothing I could do to stop it. It was another experience that was unique and, although I struggled immensely, I would not change what happened. I spent over a year in Wellington with no interruptions, making huge gains in both my fitness and knowledge in a comfortable environment. However, there is only so much you can learn in that kind of situation, as I mentioned earlier; it was experience and an investment in my future development that I was seeking. Already I feel it has paid off.
Former New Zealand representative and Western State athlete Carl Jackson commented to me that "no one runs well there first year at altitude". There are some exceptions, Aish in particular. However, while Carl McKenzie and Hayden McLaren are joining the 4min mile club out East, I am working out on treadmills and racing at upwards of 6,000ft. It is part of the decision process when choosing a school. My goal in coming to Western State was to get strong, I realise that my situation could be very different if I was elsewhere, but each athlete must weigh his priorities and decide what will best serve him in the future. For me, Gunnison is an investment. I have arguably sacrificed any chance of an indoor season in coming here due to the weather and with it being my first year at altitude. However, I do not believe that when I am finished with my career that I will be judged on what I did or did not accomplish in my first season in America.
Other uncontrollable elements have played a large role in my experience thus far in the US. The cold is something I thought I knew in Wellington but took on a whole new meaning in Gunnison. There is no track here over winter, we run on roads under thick ice and snow-pack, and there is only so long that you can healthily withstand being out on a Sunday run. Alternating between running on ice and treadmills has a dramatic affect on your body. While I am lucky enough to say that I have never been truly injured, many runners at Western have been and currently are as a result of the adverse conditions we are forced to deal with. It does however, become part of daily life and something that is not worth becoming frustrated with. It is something that has made me stronger and better prepared for future training.
Road Running
Illness is also something to be aware of. Most foreigners will find the first few weeks of the semester those when they get sick. New bugs and strands of colds and influenza are not to be underestimated, while living in small Valley in a state with an influenza epidemic is no exception. These are the elements that are more often that not, uncontrollable and all shape the initial experience and feelings of arriving in the US to run. More importantly, they are issues rarely on your mind before leaving, which makes their affects all the more frustrating. This is accentuated by the fact that whilst here on a scholarship, your purpose feels far narrower than in New Zealand. When you are unable to run, suddenly pressures add up. The sport in New Zealand is predominantly individualised and is a far cry from the collegiate system used here in the US. Thus, there is far more pressure from coaches and administrators to always be ready to perform and allow them to 'get there moneys worth'. What few coaches seem to understand is that the scholarship system is not a one-way deal, it is very much a business relationship, while they are accountable to expectations as well, not just the athlete. This is something I have been forced on occasion to address to those who expect there "moneys-worth" from me, with no consideration for their end of the deal.
As with all situations however, there is life away from running. Like many others living out scholarship-life in the states I have made lasting friendships, seen a lot of the country and learnt more about myself in a year than I ever thought possible. It is this side of life in America, the side away from the track, which has given me most enjoyment.
I began this article with the assertion that this topic is nothing new, and I will end with that. However, I feel that a small account of my experience could prove valuable for future athletes making the move to the US. There has been discussion about the topic, but too many athletes come over unprepared for the transition they are about to make and it's unnecessary. You can never know too much, you can never be too prepared. I hope this will be the start of a trend for other athletes in my situation; to provide accounts of their times in the US, the pressures they felt, and the lessons they would pass on. Too many athletes venture over to the US and are seemingly forgotten. If I am anything of an example, there are many high school runners out there who think of nothing else but emulating those of us who have gone before them. Information, resources, and accounts from other athletes should be something readily available in order to allow for more informed decisions about leaving, rather than just taking the first scholarship available, which has been the case for many. It is a life changing experience, and it need not be a bad one.
By Daniel Wallis.