I have been an athlete my entire life. It is literally all that I have known. From an early age I became accustomed to
being celebrated for my athletic achievements.
When I was a kid I competed in gymnastics and played youth soccer. Every kid on my team received an award merely
for participating, which was a concept my young, competitive brain couldn’t quite
reconcile. I have never really liked
attention and have always been the quiet introverted kid, but without even
knowing it being celebrated as an athlete became a staple in my life.
I knew early on that I wanted to be a collegiate
athlete. I didn’t know what sport I wanted
to participate in, but I always knew that I wanted to continue to pursue my
passion for sports. I initially tried
out for soccer at UCDavis and was devastated when I did not make the team. After licking my wounds and after much
pressure from the coaches, I reluctantly made my way out to track practice. It didn’t take me long to realize that track
and field was where I belonged. I worked
hard and I could directly see my work pay off in times and results. I competed against myself every day, received
praise when I succeeded and picked myself up when I failed. I knew the emphasis was student first and
then athlete, but in my heart I was always an athlete first. I dressed and prepared for practice every
morning before school and consistently biked to class, fully outfitted in spandex
and covered in bags of recovery ice. Without
even knowing it I became addicted to identifying as an athlete.
After finishing my four years of collegiate athletics I
struggled to figure out what was next. I
watched my boyfriend at the time sign an MLB contract and have the opportunity to
continue to play baseball. I was envious
of his opportunity and anxious to find my next athletic ‘fix.’ It came soon after, in the form of
bobsled.
I can’t say I immediately fell in love with bobsled. Our relationship has always been
complex. I loved competing and I loved
pushing my body in training, but there were many other complexities that took
some adjustment. As time went on, I
learned to love the integral details necessary to be successful in the sport. At some point our relationship and I was head
over heels in love and 100 percent in.
My identity evolved from athlete, to bobsledder. It was who I was for eight years. My daily successes were celebrated as I
easily settled into the lifestyle. In
the back of mind I knew I could not be a bobsledder forever, but I was willing
to sacrifice my entire self for one goal.
I convinced myself I had balance in my life and that I was prepared for
the inevitable end of my career.
In 2014 when I did not make the Olympic team and chose to
leave the sport, I realized how unprepared I really was. I felt like a kid who had just graduated college,
riddled with extreme uncertainty and unsettled that the college experience was
over. It was almost as if I had excelled
in sport and regressed in every other aspect of my life. I had to relearn what seemed like basic
domestic skills. I was overwhelmed by
simple interactions and felt like an alien trying to assimilate to a life that
was very unfamiliar. I desperately tried
to just be normal.
I vowed to be courageous and brave throughout my major life transition. I did not have any idea where my life would
take me and I was scared of all the future unknowns. It was incredibly overwhelming and admittedly
often still is. Thankfully my sister and
brother in law opened their doors to me with no questions asked. They were patient, kind and didn’t push me
any harder than I needed to be pushed.
They weren’t hard on me, but also helped to give me a little nudge when
I needed it. They knew that it is my
nature to hold myself to unreasonably high standards under every circumstance,
so offered what I needed most; unconditional love and support. If it was not for my family I would have
never been able to use the last two years to explore different
opportunities.
My sister and brother in law gave me the gift of time. It is a gift that I don’t know if I will ever
be able to repay them for. I was able to
try different paths and see what fit for me.
I knew when I was done with bobsled I would never go back to the sport,
but I was not satisfied with the athletic footprint I left. My family supported me when I started playing
rugby, even if in the back of their heads they thought I was crazy. It was different this time around. I was a recovering bobsled addict and I was
well aware of the consequences if I did not continue to maintain the balance I had
fought to find.
After ten years of elite athletics, I gave rugby what I had
left in my body and mind. I gave it what
I could as I simultaneously worked hard towards establishing future plans. I ended my elite athletic career on a high
note and can be at peace with the legacy I left. Rugby has given me lifelong friends and a
community I will always be a part of. I am
very proud to have contributed to the first Women’s Olympic Rugby Team and to have
competed for the National Team. I know
celebrating participation ended with youth soccer, but in this case participating
was one of my greatest athletic achievements.
Crossing over to rugby, learning the game and the skill was arguably one
of the most difficult athletic experiences of my life. It is an achievement I am very proud.
I am now in training for the next Olympic quad, but this
time in a different capacity, as a student.
When I am doing schoolwork I often think of the days struggling on the rugby
pitch when I thought I had nothing more to give. Those days remind me just how tough I am. I think in the midst of everything I lost sight
of that. I know my classes will push me
and I will often feel just as uncomfortable as I felt the first day I slid down
the ice or tied up my rugby cleats. I
know it may never get easier, but I will adjust and it will get more comfortable.
My identity will continue to evolve as I
take risks and discover who I am. I have
learned that there is not just one element to who I am, but instead my identity
encompasses many. I am an Olympian, a former
student-athlete, a retired bobsledder, a rugby player, a student, but most
importantly… I am a fighter.
