By Eric Holt

I’ll be competing in the 1500 meter finals today, just two days after running 3:32.95 in the prelims, the fastest race of my life by more than a second.

I wish I could say that I expected that outcome and that I was confident that I’d crush the prelims, but that wasn’t the case. I’ve run for more than 20 years, and I was more scared on the starting line Thursday night than I’d ever been in my life.

You could say that’s ridiculous, but think about it from my side. Last year, during my best season ever—when people started thinking an unsponsored 29-year-old might actually make Team USA—I fell short in the Olympic Trials. I psyched myself out, ran a dumb race during the 1,500m semifinals, and didn’t even make finals. I felt like I’d let everyone down.

A few days later, with my first professional contract with Puma PUMA signed, I ran the race of my life in the 800 meter semifinals—1:45.05—to clinch the final spot. A few minutes later, I found out I’d been disqualified for stepping twice on the line in my opening steps.

After all the support I’d received, it felt like I’d let down everyone who believed in me.

The devastation at the 2024 Olympic Trials quickly gave way to determination. I wanted to prove that my Trials 800 performance wasn’t a fluke. I wanted to prove that I truly was one of the country’s best 1500 middle distance runners. I wanted to prove to Puma PUMA that their belief in me was warranted.

I dialed up my speedwork, ran tons of mileage, and yet, for the rest of the 2024 season, the times didn’t come. In my last race of the year, I ran a 4:06 mile. I was in elite events, competing like I was a high-school senior.

After taking time to rest, I got back into training. I’d run a few 100-mile weeks before, but I got to altitude and strung them together. I lifted more weight and more often. I wanted more threshold training, more speed, more everything. I knew that, despite what it might seem, I hadn’t reached my potential.

You could say that’s a great way to burn out and that I was working far too hard. (Some people look through my Strava and say exactly that.) But the truth is, for all the new, fancy threshold sessions and carbon-plated shoes and hydrogel technology, you still have to work hard to be a professional runner. The best athletes in the world are always riding a line, whether they admit it or not.

And I could tell in the 2025 indoor season that I’d crossed that line. What I first thought was hamstring tightness turned into a strain. Anything approaching sprinting set it on fire.

I took some time off, but mostly I trained through it—running big mileage weeks and slower workouts that would spare my hamstring as much as possible. I got physical therapy, tried dry-needling, and grimaced through massages.

Sometimes, I could pretend that the injury wasn’t that serious, even when it felt like I couldn’t engage the biggest muscles in my leg. I was doing more mileage than ever, and some workouts were the best of my life. I knew, at least aerobically, that I was in great shape.

But in races, something always went wrong. I’d feel cooked from a recent session, or I’d have trouble shifting into a closing kick. From January through July, I ran 18 races, and I wasn’t happy with any of them. My best 1500 was 3:36.45 as I struggled to 10th place. My hamstring steadily improved, bit by bit, but the race results never matched what I could do in workouts.

And then, all of the sudden, I was on the starting line at USAs next to the reigning Olympic and NCAA champions, about to fight for a spot in what is almost inarguably the best American 1500-meter field ever assembled.

There’s a part of me that thought I didn’t belong there. Maybe I’d get blown out of the water and come shuffling in for last place. There was little reason for anyone to think I was going to make the final this year. Maybe they were right. Maybe I was too old or not talented enough. Maybe I was going to let my biggest supporters down.

But why not me? I’m a professional runner. I work as hard as anyone else. My goal was to latch on to the Olympic Champion and not let go. And for the first time all season, I did exactly what I set out to do.

I know everyone says I have about a zero percent chance to beat Cole Hocker, Yared Nuguse, Hobbs Kessler, and some of the most talented collegiate runners ever. And hey, maybe I don’t. But that’s why we run the race. Crazy stuff happens, all the time. I’m gonna try my best.

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