Quest for third Olympics derailed
Swimmer tries to get ‘mojo’ back, is accused of doping
After two Olympics, four world championship meets and a slew of international medals, Winnetka-reared swimmer Conor Dwyer was still near the top of his sport last year, notching times that ranked him among the fastest Americans in the pool.
Out of the water, it was a different story. And the way that strange tale unfolded is chronicled in an arbitration panel’s decision released last month that resolved a case brought against Dwyer by the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency.
According to the decision, Dwyer told his longtime trainer that he was suffering from brain fog, low energy, depression and insomnia. The trainer, the decision said, suggested an unusual remedy: implanted pellets derived from soy and yam that raise the body’s testosterone level. But what Dwyer didn’t understand, the decision said, is that the pellets increase testosterone because they are testosterone – a banned substance under anti-doping rules.
That alleged misapprehension cost Dwyer his swimming career. The arbitrators imposed a suspension that meant he would miss the Olympic trials set for June. Dwyer announced his retirement from the sport moments later.
The decision offers a window into the high-stakes health care decisions made by top athletes. The arbitrators accepted Dwyer’s claim that he wasn’t trying to cheat but criticized his reliance on inexperienced advisers and his failure to sufficiently research the treatment.
“As an elite athlete with 10 years of anti-doping experience, having heard the treatment involved testosterone, he easily could have done more,” they said.
Through a family member, Dwyer, who now lives in Los Angeles, declined an interview request. But his trainer, Ed Reardon, told the Tribune that Olympic administrators aren’t owning up to their part in Dwyer’s case and insisted an unknown official told Dwyer’s doctor that the hormone treatment was allowed.
“If he was sneaking it and doing it illegally, why would we ask for permission?” Reardon said. “Who’s the guy on the phone call, and why did he say that?”
‘This is just hard work’
Dwyer started swimming as a 6-year-old — his mother, a former college All-American,
was his first instructor — and grew into a talented but unspectacular athlete during his time at Loyola Academy and the University of Iowa.
But after transferring to the University of Florida his junior year, his times dropped dramatically and he won two NCAA titles after failing to even qualify for the meet the previous season.
His coach, Gregg Troy, scoffed at speculation that drugs might have been involved.
“If he is (juicing), he would be the skinniest guy in the world on drugs,” Troy said in a 2010 Tribune interview. “He was tested randomly all season. This is just hard work.”
From there, Dwyer became a mainstay on the U.S. national team, earning Olympic gold medals as part of the 800-meter freestyle relay in 2012 and 2016, and a bronze medal in the 200meter freestyle in 2016.
But after the Rio de Janiero games, Dwyer “never got his mojo back,” feeling downcast, overly tired and unable to sleep, according to the arbitration decision. His results, however, remained strong: He medaled at the world championships in 2017, and last year recorded a personal best in the 100-meter freestyle.
Dwyer didn’t consult with USA Swimming or the U.S. Olympic and Paralympic Committee about his health issues, feeling they gave preference to his rivals, the decision said. Instead, he turned to Reardon, the owner of two North Shore weight loss clinics and “the person whom he trusted the most in his life,” according to the decision.
Reardon was Dwyer’s friend, trainer and nutritional consultant. He suggested a product called BioTE, according to the arbitrators’ decision, which describes the pellets as plant-derived hormones that are implanted beneath the skin.
The two consulted with Dr. Dana Russo, an obstetrician-gynecologist who founded a Northfield clinic called Inner Beauty Medical Rejuvenation and Hormone Optimization.
She looked at a blood panel Dwyer provided and concluded his testosterone level was in the 5th percentile, far lower than it should have been for someone his age. According to the decision, she diagnosed him with a testosterone deficiency.
At the arbitration hearing, Dr. Bradley Anawalt, chief of medicine at the University of Washington Medical Center and a member of USADA’s therapeutic use exemption committee, criticized Russo’s methods. He said best practice is to examine multiple blood samples taken in the morning, though Russo testified her training did not call for that, the decision said.
Russo declined to discuss the case with the Tribune out of privacy concerns but said in a statement, “I stand by the quality care I provide to all of my patients.”
BioTE pellets contain “bioidentical” hormones, which the company’s website claims are superior to synthetic versions.
Dr. Craig Niederberger, a urologist at the University of Illinois College of Medicine, said that’s marketing language rather than a clinical distinction.
“The final molecule you’re delivering is testosterone,” he said. “Where it comes from doesn’t really matter.”
BioTE Medical’s website says its pellets can help with conditions ranging from osteoporosis to anxiety.
The U.S. Food and Drug Administration has not evaluated those claims, and in September published a statement saying the company failed to report thousands of “adverse events” related to its hormone pellets.
The agency said the matter is still under investigation.
BioTE Medical did not return a call seeking comment.
A mysterious call
The arbitration panel’s ruling said when Russo explained the treatment, Dwyer didn’t grasp its implications.
“Mr. Dwyer did not understand that the BioTE was in fact testosterone, but rather only that the pellets would raise his hormone health,” it said.
He knew enough, though, to ask whether the treatment was banned. Figuring that out fell to Russo, who had no experience navigating anti-doping rules.
At Reardon’s suggestion, the panel wrote, she called the USOPC, and her phone records indicate she received an eight-minute callback from the number of Amber Donaldson, the USOPC’s senior director of sports medicine clinics.
According to the decision, Russo told the panel she spoke to someone who told her the treatment would be permissible, but the identity of that person is in dispute. Donaldson testified she didn’t remember talking with Russo and would not have given such advice, while Russo said the person with whom she spoke was male.
But that person was never identified, and the hearing failed to clear up the matter; the panel found she probably misunderstood a conversation with someone at the USOPC.
Reardon told the Tribune the lingering ambiguity shows the sports bureaucracy is more interested in protecting itself than admitting a mistake.
“They’re circling the wagons to cover this thing up,” he said.
The USOPC declined to address Reardon’s comment, saying only that it “stands with every clean athlete around the world in promoting integrity, health and every athlete’s fundamental right to compete in clean sport.”
Russo finished the call convinced there was no problem with BioTE, according to the decision. With that, Dwyer said he was “100% OK” with the treatment.
In October 2018, the decision said, Dwyer signed forms that he didn’t read — “they referenced testosterone and that BioTE would increase hematocrit and muscle mass,” the ruling said — and in a procedure that lasted only a few minutes, Russo implanted the pellets.
Two months later, following several out-of-competition drug tests, the panel wrote, Dwyer was notified that he had tested positive for an anabolic agent.
Lasting gains
Testosterone is a powerful muscle-building hormone, which is why athletes are prohibited from taking it. Jonathan Dugas, a physiologist and co-founder of The Science of Sport website, said it allows athletes to train harder and gain benefits that remain even after their use of the hormone ends.
“You’re kind of laying down building blocks,” he said. “It does plateau in a way, but you are building on those adaptations, one after another. There’s an argument that they don’t disappear even if you stop training for months and years.”
Dwyer told the arbitrators he was “shocked, mad, sad and crushed” when he received word of the positive tests. He had tried to do the right thing his entire career, he said, and supported clean competition.
But Travis Tygart, the head of USADA, told the Tribune Olympic athletes receive extensive anti-doping education — the decision said Dwyer knew testosterone was not allowed — and are well aware that USADA is the go-to organization for questions on those matters.
“From our standpoint, it’s frustrating that he didn’t (call),” Tygart said. “But on the same hand, I think it’s pretty clear why he didn’t, because he wouldn’t want the answer we would give, which is unambiguous: You can’t take testosterone pellets.”
USADA sought a fouryear suspension in the arbitration, but Dwyer asked for no more than 16 months from the start of his provisional suspension on Dec. 21, 2018, which would have allowed him to swim in the Olympic trials. The arbitrators, while expressing sympathy, gave him 20 months, finding he bore the ultimate responsibility for the violation.
Dwyer could have appealed to the Court of Arbitration for Sport, an international forum that hears doping cases. But soon after the arbitrators released their ruling, he posted a message to his Twitter account that reiterated his defense and made an announcement.
“Regardless of the result of the arbitration ruling, I have decided to retire from swimming to pursue other professional interests,” he wrote. “It was an honor to represent my country alongside my teammates and with the support of my coaches, family and friends. I appreciate all of the opportunities I have been given and look forward to the next chapter.”