I think when most people think of an Olympian, they picture a 20 something year old athlete that has been groomed in their sport for most of their life. At 34-years-old, as I glance over at my Olympic Silver medal emitting light (or so it seems) it is still hard to believe that I can now and forever call myself an Olympian. I found the sport of bobsled at the age of 30 by complete accident. It started with a simple question from a friend of mine in a Crossfit gym. “How much do you back squat?” Jill Potter 2016 Rugby Olympian asked me in passing. After a few follow up questions back and forth Jill confessed, “I think you should bobsled.” The suggestion came at possibly the worst and best time in my life. Worst, I was just finishing up my Executive MBA from Pepperdine and was expecting or expected to climb the corporate ladder. Best, because if I had been honest with myself, that ladder, wasn’t for me. I pursued the beginning steps to become a bobsledder with very little sincerity; after all, this wasn’t something I could actually do.
I still remember the day of my combine, making the drive down to the Olympic Training Center (OTC) in Colorado Springs, snapping pictures, buying mementos because I was certain that hot day in August of 2014 was going to be the beginning and end to my bobsled “career”. In most cases, I really hate to admit to being wrong but for this, I made a concession. Just weeks after completing my combine I was invited to a rookie push camp in Lake Placid, NY where the second OTC was located. Taking a week off from work and heading to camp I still had no intention of actually being a bobsledder but I figured living at a training center for a week would be cool and maybe I would meet some Olympians. I was right, it was and I did. As I headed home the top rookie of my class with numerous messages from coaches, other athletes and friends from home, I still could never have imagined what was in store for me.
By October this bobsled idea was not only still in my head, I was standing at the top of a bobsled track fastening my helmet and preparing for what ended up being the longest minute of my life. Surprisingly, I liked it, I was terrified but alive, I was hooked. For the next three and half years I would significantly pair down my life style; I gave up my apartment, sold my furniture on Craigslist and my car to my dad. I was between training centers in the summer training and traveling the world in the winter competing, living out of a suitcase and schlepping most of my worldly possessions every where I went.
Year after year, slowly but surely I made progress. Not coming from a track and field background and being a self proclaimed motor moron made my Olympic Dream tricky at times. I was competing against collegiate level track athletes that hadn’t spent the last decade sitting behind a desk and weren’t in their 30’s. The only thing I had on them was my work ethic. I knew my time in this sport would be limited, at best I had one quad (four year period in between the Olympics) in me so I had to make it count.
Bobsled wasn’t just my sport, it became my life. Whether I made it to the Games or was left off the team I was going to prepare with everything that I had so that if given the opportunity I knew I was the best. I was going to work so hard that when I stood on the starting line, got into position and heard the roar of the crowd, there would be no doubt, no nerves, there would only be a feeling of calm knowing that I had prepared for this with every ounce of my being….
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