For more than a decade, Marion Jones was hailed as the “the fastest woman on the planet.” In 2000 in Sydney, Australia, she became the first woman ever to win five medals at one Olympic game. That same year, the Associated Press and ESPN named her “Athlete of the Year.” Marion seemed to have it all—fame, fortune, talent, and international acclaim.

But then Marion lied to federal agents about using a performance-enhancing drug and her knowledge of a check fraud scam. A few years later, no longer able to live with the lies, she admitted the truth. In a sad end to what seemed like a storybook career, Marion was stripped of her medals, and her track and field records were wiped from the books. In 2008, Marion served a six-month prison sentence, saying goodbye to her husband, children, and family.

On the Right Track is Marion’s story of how she came to grips with her lies, the consequences of her actions, and how she made meaning from all of it. She describes events leading up to, and including, her incarceration, as well as life after prison—and what she learned about honesty, decision-making, discouragement, failure, hope, and inner strength.< “A revealing and humbling account of a strong woman's pain of self-discovery . . . and how one bad decision, a decision made in less than 30 seconds, can change your life forever."< “Marion's story is a powerful, poignant reminder to us all that being true to yourself provides the power required to achieve success, endure profound failure, and be successful again."< "A forthright account of one athlete’s dizzying rise to fame, her precipitous fall, and the unexpected ramifications of both journeys."<

CHAPTER 1THE WAY BACK

As the cameras clicked and the videotapes rolled, I stepped up to a battalion of microphones stationed in front of the West-chester County Federal Courthouse in White Plains, New York. It was Friday, October 5, 2007, an unseasonably warm day. The treetops swayed with occasional gusts of wind. There was a long ribbon of people across the street, shouting “We love you, Marion.” I didn’t know any of them, but they were like angels sent from God to wrap their wings around me on one of the lowest days of my life.

My mother, other relatives, and close supporters stood behind me and around me like sturdy pillars. A swarm of reporters and photographers was arrayed on the steps of the brick-faced courthouse, all jockeying for spots near the microphones.

Moments earlier, I had been inside the building, standing before U.S. District Judge Kenneth Karas. Karas is a bespectacled man with a shock of brown hair and a stern, hard-nosed manner. His courtroom looked like something straight out of a legal drama, with wood-paneled walls, pews, and a sign above the judge’s head that said “In God We Trust.” It was filled to capacity with journalists from around the world. The proceeding was televised on closed-circuit television to a nearby overflow room.

I was stoic and scared at the same time. I pled guilty to two charges: lying in 2003 to federal investigators about my use of a performance-enhancing drug and lying to them about my knowledge of a separate check fraud case. In my guilty plea, I told the court that in September 2000, before the Sydney Olympic Games, a former coach first gave me a substance he told me was flaxseed oil. As it turned out, the “flaxseed oil” was a performance-enhancing drug (PED) now known as “the clear.”

My eyes never strayed from Judge Karas’s face. Whenever he uttered the ramifications of my guilty plea, using words like “prison,” “felony,” or “punishment,” I simply said, “Yes, I understand.” As he spoke, I thought of the shame I’d brought on my family, the sport of track and field, my former teammates, and my many supporters. I knew I’d spend a very long time trying to make up for the damage I’d caused.

Judge Karas said he wanted to schedule my sentencing hearing for January fourth. I leaned over to my attorneys and whispered that January fourth was my mother’s birthday. They politely requested a different date. The judge complied and set my sentencing date for January 11, 2008.

The hearing lasted just thirty minutes. Judge Karas banged his gavel, and the courtroom cleared.

I was not only in emotional pain, but physical pain too. I was still breast-feeding my second son, Amir, who was home in Austin being cared for by my husband Obadele Thompson. I had packed my breast pump in my suitcase so I could pump milk and not become engorged, but a piece of the pump broke off during the trip. The pump wouldn’t work, so I couldn&r Read Less