It is hard for me to describe the worst day of my life. Not because it is hard for me to articulate my feelings, or that there are too many to choose from. No, the difficulty stems from my inability to label the worst day of my life as just one day. How can twenty-four hours, at the most, contain everything that brought you to one particular point? Since, more often than not, many factors contribute to creating that one particularly devastating event. As well, one particularly devastating event may show up unexpected; yet leave a trail of unpleasantness in its wake. To complicate matters even more, the “worst day of your life” can also be the best thing for you. Even though it is hard to encapsulate the worse day of your life into one day, “the worst day of your life” is typically the defining moment of that challenging situation.
Competitive sport, and everything that went with it was my definition of being alive. It was my life. It was who I was, and all that I identified with. Thanks to sport my life had meaning, direction, and I had something to look forward to everyday. I was deeply, utterly and passionately in love with what I did, and then one day everything changed.
I am not exactly sure when it happened, but the burning desire to compete and prove myself on the international scene died. I started envisioning myself traveling, doing other amazing things, and going to school. This made me nervous. I thought to myself, “Whoa, there are still two more years until the Vancouver Olympics: no more of these crazy thoughts. FOCUS.” But try as I might to focus on training, competing, and what I had set out to accomplish I was craving something different. My heart was not in it anymore. It was time to go. All I had to do was find the courage to leave. Easier said then done.
My big ‘ah-ha moment’ came September 2008, at the final testing camp before the start of the Bobsleigh season. I was eerily nonchalant about achieving excellent results at our testing camp and okay with it. This freaked me out. Not that I was eerily nonchalant about performing well at the testing camp, but that I was actually OK with it. This was not who I was. Typically, anytime I test my abilities I get extremely motivated to be as close to perfect as humanly possible. So, being rather laid back about the whole experience was kind of shocking. Yet, the atypical, non a-type personality traits were not enough to make me realize my heart just was not in it anymore, and really there was no other choice but to leave.
It was not long after this when I did finally realize it was time to move one. This happened when I stepped out of the “me mentality” and actually observed the world around me. I saw how passionate the new recruits and girls on the development team were. They wanted to be there more than anything, and I could barely piece together the motivation to be there. I was standing in their way. It wasn’t just about me, and my issues. Just because I happened to be more talented at pushing a heap of metal and fiberglass down a chunk of ice, did not give me the right to be there. I was unhappy, frustrated with the politics, and needed to do what was best for the team and myself. So I left, at the protest of the entire team, I left.
I grabbed my cell phone and snuck out of the side door before testing was even finished. This was it. This was the moment. The decision had been made and there was no turning back. I scanned the area for someplace to shelter myself before the dam exploded. My fingers dialed my mom’s number before I even realized what I was doing. I needed to talk to someone, and she was my person. I burst into tears as soon as she answered the phone. I cried so hard my body was heaving and my eyes were blind with tears. I needed to let go of that part of me, a part that had been a huge piece of my life. I dragged myself through this heart wrenching process. Then I just let go, and as quickly as the sorrow came, it left. After that, I took a deep breath and I realized the world had not come to an end. My world did not end. I was still alive, still breathing, and I had a whole world of possibilities in front of me.
Life has been very interesting since that day. I’ve done some traveling, other amazing things, and now I am back at school. There are still days where my heart aches to be back in that world. There are still holes left unfilled, and some days I still don’t feel alive, but those are just some days. Throughout this process I also realized that I am much more than just an athlete. People love me for who I am, not what I do. I have so much more to offer – thank goodness for that! Being an Olympian means I will be branded “athlete” till the end of my days, but that is just one of the many words to describe who I am.
