PUBLISHED 07/27/2007
In a sport that conjures up images of barroom brawls and beer bellies, Sarah Ellerby turns heads. The half-marathoner is running her way to the top of the elite billiard player rankings, changing the way people look at the game in the process.
It's not surprising for professional soccer players, golfers, and race-car drivers to credit running for enhancing their performance. But billiards?
"People don't realize that pool is a very physical game," says Ellerby, a 32-year-old Brit who lives in Orlando. "My practice sessions can last up to six hours. At tournaments you could play six or seven matches a day. Sometimes you go from 10 a.m. to midnight. Holding positions for extended periods of time and being on your feet all day is hard on your legs, back, and neck. You have to be in good shape if you want to play a serious game."
Ellerby didn't always respect the demands of the sport. The North Yorkshire, England, native started playing against her brother at age 12 and earned her first world title when she was 16. An intensive tournament and traveling schedule followed. Stress and her on-the-road lifestyle took a toll on her body--by the age of 24, she carried 225 pounds on her 5'6" frame--and on her performance.
"I was so heavy it was affecting my game," she says. "My hands got bigger and it changed my grip. I gained so much weight in my upper body that I lost my ability to reach over the table. I couldn't get where I needed to be."
The 1999 Women's Professional Billiards Association Open was a turning point for Ellerby. She failed to make a critical shot--a move that required her to balance on one leg, something she could no longer do. She lost the match, prompting her to take a break from the sport.
Soon after, Ellerby took another hit: Her mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. Instead of trying to find solace in food, however, Ellerby turned to a healthier habit. "When I was a teenager, I would sometimes run twice a day," she says. "It was how I cleared my head and dealt with everything going on around me. I loved running. It was part of my life." But running felt different than she remembered; it was difficult, painful. She felt the weight of those extra pounds, both physically and emotionally.
After returning from a run, she went into the bathroom, took off her clothes, and for the first time in years stood in front of a mirror. "I couldn't believe what I saw," she says. "It wasn't me. I stared at myself for an hour and cried."
