Passion for the Climb
As good as gold

By Kathryn (Kate) Bertine ’97


Kathryn Bertine’s second book, As Good As Gold, will be released by ESPN/RandomHouse in April 2010. Her first book, All the Sundays Yet to Come (Little, Brown), came out in 2003. In September 2009, Bertine placed 37th at the World Championships (time trial). She lives in Tucson, Ariz., and races for St. Kitts and Nevis.
I had a bike at Colgate. The old Trek languished in the basement of Stillman Hall. I think it was blue. It may or may not have had a seat by the time I checked in on it senior year. There was not one iota of foreshadowing that I’d become a professional cyclist 10 years after graduating. I am likely Colgate’s only professional athlete alum who had to set up chairs at graduation to fulfill a neglected gym requirement.
    As a student, I was a figure skater and rower. Each sport was quietly preparing me (and my quadriceps) for an unpredictable adventure.
    Upon graduation, I had The Plan: I would tour the world as a figure skater, then go to graduate school, get a publishing job, get married, have 2.5 children, a medium-sized dog, and a membership to an upscale health club — all before my 29th birthday. That’s how The Plan is done. Especially if you grow up in Westchester.
    First, I skated professionally in Europe and South America and then entered the University of Arizona for an MFA in creative writing. The Plan was ticking along nicely. But in Tucson, there is neither much ice nor open water. Rowing and skating were out; my muscles wanted a new activity. I bought a used bicycle.
    And then The Plan, so structured and lovely, was blown to smithereens.
    What happened next was a whirl-wind romance with endurance sports. My skating and rowing muscles transferred their usage into new territory. I spent five years as an amateur triathlete, then turned professional a few days shy of my 30th birthday. Oh, my poor, poor Plan! The husband and kids itinerary suddenly changed to single-hood and 2.5 bicycles (ironically, Trek became my sponsor), and my publishing aspirations gave way to part-time jobs: substitute teaching, waitressing, pet-sitting, whatever allowed me the flexibility to train, race, and survive. Besides, if I were going to be a writer, didn’t I need something to write about?
    Six Ironmans and more than 100 shortcourse triathlons later, I was hooked. And poor. I ate boxed foods, old food, and free food, kicking myself for all the times I rolled my eyes in Frank Dining Hall. But my new Plan was the love of my life. Or was it?
    A few years into my triathlon career, Life started whispering its early-30s suggestions. I began to question everything: relationships, home roots, career opportunities, daily choice of socks. Uncertainty and the dire circumstances of living on friends’ couches led me to give up sports. My gut was not happy, though, and implored me not to quit. I gave it Tums and told it to be quiet.
    After almost a year of waitressing, 11 rejections for 10 teaching positions (one school sent me duplicate letters), and utter silence from the publisher that produced my first book, I slunk into the local gym. “About time,” my gut said. That’s when I got the phone call.
    In 2006, ESPN, for whom I had occasionally freelanced, offered me a life-changing assignment: “We’d like you to write about the Beijing Olympic Games,” they said. “But that’s two years away,” I said. “We know. We’d like you to try to get there as an athlete. You can write about the journey along the way, both online and as a book.” I dropped the phone. It broke.
    So at the age of 33, through two years of training, travel, and adventures unlike anything I could ever imagine, I tried to qualify for the 2008 Beijing Olympics. After all those years as a skater/rower/triathlete, my quadriceps were well-suited to road cycling. I somehow made it from complete novice to decent pro-level rider to the U.S. National Championships — the Olympic qualifier.
    When I fell short there, ESPN joked, “Find another country to race for.” Then, strangely enough, I did.
    After months of effort, I was granted dual citizenship with the nation of St. Kitts and Nevis in the Caribbean, who promised to help me if I would help them build a strong cycling federation for future athletes. Still, citizenship with any country does not ensure an Olympic berth. I had to become one of the top-ranked 100 cyclists in the world — in six weeks. I had only 42 days to qualify by going to races and winning points among the best cyclists on the globe. From Shanghai to Caracas to remote volcanoes in Central America, my bike and I climbed amazing landscapes. I came within one race of winning an Olympic berth for St. Kitts and Nevis, but on the final day of qualification, I was not the fastest woman. There would be no Olympics for me. Or would there?
    Although my ESPN assignment ended in 2008, my love of cycling doubled. What if, I wondered, the 2012 London Olympics are doable? That question remains to be answered. My gut sure thinks it’s a good idea.
    I continue to race for St. Kitts and Nevis, holding fast to my promise to help the nation develop a thriving cycling federation. More than 800 pounds of bikes and equipment were recently donated to the country, and more and more kids are joining the Nevis cycling club instead of the rising gang culture. While some criticized my decision to race for a nation other than my beloved United States, I saw the opportunity to not only grow the sport of women’s cycling, but also to build social and moral bridges. I believe true patriotism does not mean “America only,” but rather, “America and…” The rewards of giving back are far greater than the sum of my Olympic goals. Although London 2012 is three years away, I’ve already won the gold.


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