EUGENE, Ore. -- Mary Decker Slaney had seen her daughter, Ashley, off to school, run a few errands and now was relaxing over a cup of cappuccino.
She was talking about how her life had changed in recent years, how she had learned to combine family and track. At 33, she was training for another shot at the Olympics, but this time she said things were different.
"I'm not putting a lot of pressure on myself," Slaney said. "I'm going to train as well as I can and whatever happens happens.
"I don't want to make this [Olympic year] like the end of the world. I've made that mistake before. I'm not going to make it again."
Of course, most people would have given up by now. Slaney was just a teen-age whippet in pigtails and braces when she began her pursuit of an Olympic medal in the '70s.
Over the years, she became the most accomplished female runner in U.S. history and set American records for every distance from 800 through 10,000 meters, but she never won the race that mattered most. She never won the Olympics.
Slaney's Olympic box score reads like a cruel joke. Consider:
* 1976: Sidelined by shin splints.
* 1980: Sidelined by the U.S. boycott.
* 1984: Injured in a collision with Zola Budd in the 3,000-meter final, she was carried off the track, weeping, by her husband, British shot putter Richard Slaney.
* 1988: Weakened by a viral infection, she finished eighth in the 1,500 meters and 10th in the 3,000 meters at Seoul.
There was an embarrassed silence in the interview room after the last race in Seoul when Slaney told the assembled press: "I still have Barcelona."
Poor Mary, everyone thought. She just won't let go. She won't admit it is over.
Well, maybe it's not over.
Maybe Slaney knew what she was talking about. She might have Barcelona after all.
She is running 50 miles a week at the University of Oregon with her sights on the U.S. track trials in June in New Orleans. If she qualifies there -- and she fully expects to -- she will be on her way to her third Olympics in July.
"Those people who thought they saw the last of me [in 1988] will have a rude awakening," Slaney said. "I don't give up easily."
Husband Richard, nibbling a muffin on the other side of the table, rolled his eyes.
"That's an understatement," he said.
The scars on Slaney's legs bear witness to her grit. She has undergone a dozen operations during her track career, including four Achilles' tendon surgeries in 13 months (June 1989 to July 1990). Stubbornly, she keeps fighting back.
She could have bowed out at any time, done the old "I-gave-it-my-best-shot" routine and called it a career. No one would have blamed her. But Slaney claims she never considered it, not even for a moment, no matter how many people wrote her off.
"I've put so much into my career that I can't bear the thought of leaving things unfinished," Slaney said. "That would be terribly frustrating for me. Maybe I won't accomplish everything, but I feel it's important for me to try.
"Winning an Olympic medal, obviously, is part of it. That's something I've wanted to do for a long time. But I also think I have the potential to run better times. Some women distance runners don't peak until their mid-30s, so I might still be peaking. Who knows?
"There's just a lot of questions out there and I can't answer any of them by quitting. I can only answer them by running.
"Besides," Slaney said, "I really love the sport. Despite all I've been through, I still love it."
Even as she spoke, Slaney was nursing a slight injury, a minor tear in a nerve near her foot. She had taken some time off and now she was ready to step up her training under Oregon track coach Bill Dellinger.
Slaney has worked with Dellinger since 1989. She has gone through seven coaches in her career. Most of them were driven off by her temperamental nature.
Bill Bowerman, a retired University of Oregon coach, lasted two weeks with Slaney in 1983. Said Bowerman: "I just couldn't put up with the tantrums."
But marriage and motherhood seem to have mellowed Slaney. She has accepted Dellinger's program, although she finds it a bit on the conservative side.
She wishes she could run faster in practice, but Dellinger keeps a firm grip on the reins. He doesn't want Slaney to risk another crippling injury between now and the Olympic trials.
For Slaney, the biggest difference between this Olympic quest and the ones in the past is that she no longer has a flotilla of corporate sponsors, fashion consultants and public relations types bobbing in her wake.
In 1984, Slaney was doing ads for Nike and Timex. She was the official Kodak Camera Girl for the L.A. Olympics. She was in demand for interviews and appearances. She couldn't run a lap at the University of Oregon without someone asking, "Hey, Mary, you got a minute?"
Today, her life is much calmer.