Post by pig in mud on Aug 10, 2004 10:24:16 GMT -5
Here is a great article that was run in the kitchener record.
It's a bit worrying when the muscular guy hurling a steel ball and chain says "Oops." Hammer thrower Nathan Lennie has flung his 16-pound projectile off course -- it's headed west when it should be flying roughly northward. Silhouetted against the setting sun, its chain wagging like a tail behind it, the metal missile seems on a collision course with the nearby skateboard park. Teenage skateboarders kickflip and railslide, unaware of the hammer's arcing approach. Gravity finally kicks in, tugging the hammer back to Earth. A grassy divot explodes on impact, a safe dozen metres or so from the skateboarders. "I haven't hit anyone yet," Lennie says with a chuckle. The apparent danger was mostly a trick of perception -- the effect of throwing into a bright sunset. Given the protective cage that surrounds three-quarters of the hammer-throwing circle at Kitchener's Centennial Stadium, it would would take a really big "Oops" for the hammer to land anywhere but the empty field. And misfires are rare for 25-year-old Lennie these days. He throws the hammer 30 times a day, five days a week -- almost always due north and impressively far. He's training for this weekend's Canadian Olympic track and field trials in Victoria. Tomorrow, he will take on the strongest throwers in the country, all hoping to earn the opportunity to hurl the hammer at the Summer Games in Athens. At five foot 10, he's a little guy in a sport of giants. But what he lacks in height he makes up for in power and finesse. His bear-like torso stretches the Canadian flag printed on his T-shirt; the muscles in his elephantine legs flex with each step. Lennie looks starkly different than he did just a few hours earlier, dressed in a shirt and tie for his job as an underwriter with the Economical Insurance Group in Kitchener. As usual, he's training alone -- tossing his hammers, fetching them from about 40 metres downfield and throwing them again. "I was an only child," he says, "so I'm used to playing by myself." He readies himself in the concrete throwing circle, clutching the handle of his 14-pound hammer with his gloved left hand. The thick metal handle is bent slightly from the intense forces of throwing. First he spins the hammer counter-clockwise over his head like the rotor of a helicopter. Then his entire body turns with it in three quickening rotations, the maple leaf on his shirt swirling into a red blur. With so much momentum, it's hard to tell if he's spinning the hammer or if the hammer's spinning him. Ideally, he says, it should be a balance of both. He grunts as he releases, and the hammer arcs through the air and thumps the soil about 45 metres out. Not bad, for a warm-up. It was about a year ago, during a provincewide track meet in Kitchener, that he unleashed his farthest ever throw of 53.53 metres. It was enough to earn him a spot at the Olympic trials and to get him dreaming about throwing at the Games. When he was growing up in North Bay, he dreamed of winning a gold medal in, well, anything. He excelled in every sport he tried, and he tried them all. He was a star on the basketball and volleyball courts. He was a top-ranked alpine skier. When he started his political science degree at the University of Windsor, he played for the golf team when not training with the track and field squad. Back then he wasn't quite as hefty -- a fleet-footed imp who could sprint and high jump among the best in the club. But for reasons even he still doesn't fully understand, he especially enjoyed picking up heavy things and throwing them. He started with the shot put and the weight throw (the indoor version of the hammer), but was instantly hooked when he swung his first hammer. That was three years ago, and now he ranks among the best dozen hammer throwers in the country. He studies the sport, reading books on physics and biomechanics. He watches videotapes of his own throws, analyzing every movement. When he's not training at Centennial Stadium, he's often in the weight room at The Aud, getting stronger. "I really enjoy training," he says, walking out across the pock-marked field to retrieve his hammers. "The first thought I have in the morning and the last thought I have at night is training. If you bust your butt and work hard, good things will happen." He grabs his hammers by their chains and heads back to the circle. The steel balls drag heavily on the grass behind him like disobedient dogs. Lennie knows his best throws are still several years of intense training away. He knows he'll have to make some amazing throws this weekend in Victoria to stand a chance of qualifying for the Olympic team. "There's always a chance though," he says. "If you don't have goals, you'll never get anywhere." He steps into the concrete circle again and hurls out a couple of cool-down throws. With the Olympic trials just days away, he doesn't want to overdo anything. Aside from the "Oops" throw, it's been a good practice. Lennie is pleased. "I love getting out here and doing this," he says. "I'm as happy as a pig in mud."
It's a bit worrying when the muscular guy hurling a steel ball and chain says "Oops." Hammer thrower Nathan Lennie has flung his 16-pound projectile off course -- it's headed west when it should be flying roughly northward. Silhouetted against the setting sun, its chain wagging like a tail behind it, the metal missile seems on a collision course with the nearby skateboard park. Teenage skateboarders kickflip and railslide, unaware of the hammer's arcing approach. Gravity finally kicks in, tugging the hammer back to Earth. A grassy divot explodes on impact, a safe dozen metres or so from the skateboarders. "I haven't hit anyone yet," Lennie says with a chuckle. The apparent danger was mostly a trick of perception -- the effect of throwing into a bright sunset. Given the protective cage that surrounds three-quarters of the hammer-throwing circle at Kitchener's Centennial Stadium, it would would take a really big "Oops" for the hammer to land anywhere but the empty field. And misfires are rare for 25-year-old Lennie these days. He throws the hammer 30 times a day, five days a week -- almost always due north and impressively far. He's training for this weekend's Canadian Olympic track and field trials in Victoria. Tomorrow, he will take on the strongest throwers in the country, all hoping to earn the opportunity to hurl the hammer at the Summer Games in Athens. At five foot 10, he's a little guy in a sport of giants. But what he lacks in height he makes up for in power and finesse. His bear-like torso stretches the Canadian flag printed on his T-shirt; the muscles in his elephantine legs flex with each step. Lennie looks starkly different than he did just a few hours earlier, dressed in a shirt and tie for his job as an underwriter with the Economical Insurance Group in Kitchener. As usual, he's training alone -- tossing his hammers, fetching them from about 40 metres downfield and throwing them again. "I was an only child," he says, "so I'm used to playing by myself." He readies himself in the concrete throwing circle, clutching the handle of his 14-pound hammer with his gloved left hand. The thick metal handle is bent slightly from the intense forces of throwing. First he spins the hammer counter-clockwise over his head like the rotor of a helicopter. Then his entire body turns with it in three quickening rotations, the maple leaf on his shirt swirling into a red blur. With so much momentum, it's hard to tell if he's spinning the hammer or if the hammer's spinning him. Ideally, he says, it should be a balance of both. He grunts as he releases, and the hammer arcs through the air and thumps the soil about 45 metres out. Not bad, for a warm-up. It was about a year ago, during a provincewide track meet in Kitchener, that he unleashed his farthest ever throw of 53.53 metres. It was enough to earn him a spot at the Olympic trials and to get him dreaming about throwing at the Games. When he was growing up in North Bay, he dreamed of winning a gold medal in, well, anything. He excelled in every sport he tried, and he tried them all. He was a star on the basketball and volleyball courts. He was a top-ranked alpine skier. When he started his political science degree at the University of Windsor, he played for the golf team when not training with the track and field squad. Back then he wasn't quite as hefty -- a fleet-footed imp who could sprint and high jump among the best in the club. But for reasons even he still doesn't fully understand, he especially enjoyed picking up heavy things and throwing them. He started with the shot put and the weight throw (the indoor version of the hammer), but was instantly hooked when he swung his first hammer. That was three years ago, and now he ranks among the best dozen hammer throwers in the country. He studies the sport, reading books on physics and biomechanics. He watches videotapes of his own throws, analyzing every movement. When he's not training at Centennial Stadium, he's often in the weight room at The Aud, getting stronger. "I really enjoy training," he says, walking out across the pock-marked field to retrieve his hammers. "The first thought I have in the morning and the last thought I have at night is training. If you bust your butt and work hard, good things will happen." He grabs his hammers by their chains and heads back to the circle. The steel balls drag heavily on the grass behind him like disobedient dogs. Lennie knows his best throws are still several years of intense training away. He knows he'll have to make some amazing throws this weekend in Victoria to stand a chance of qualifying for the Olympic team. "There's always a chance though," he says. "If you don't have goals, you'll never get anywhere." He steps into the concrete circle again and hurls out a couple of cool-down throws. With the Olympic trials just days away, he doesn't want to overdo anything. Aside from the "Oops" throw, it's been a good practice. Lennie is pleased. "I love getting out here and doing this," he says. "I'm as happy as a pig in mud."