You might be wondering why I changed the tagline on my website to “The Search.” Rather than try to explain it, I’ll tell you a story of what it took for me to become a champion.
2011 was the worst year of my rowing career. I’d been cut from the national team training center and was injured, dejected, and most importantly I hated rowing.
The previous two years had been brutal. I’d been broken up with. I had moved to Princeton from DC, leaving my close friends and favorite coach behind. But my aging body and my mentality was suffering under the brutal training conditions.
I remember one particular run along lake Carnegie with the training group that pushed me nearly to my physical and emotional breaking point. We were supposed to maintain a pace out and back and when the coach called “go” the group took off and I knew right away I was in trouble. I managed to keep up for the first couple of loops, but eventually I began to fatigue. While I pushed harder and harder the rest of the group started to leave me in the dust. I remember thinking to myself “I’m in an ocean of sharks and I am the bloody chum they are trying to devour.” I held on for dear life.
While training in Princeton, I never felt recovered or rested. I had big muscles but was weak and slow. I lost piece after piece to younger, fitter, tougher athletes who could seemingly go all day while all I wanted was a nap.
I had the worst race of my life that spring. It was the first National Selection Regatta in the single. I’d managed to eek into the a final by the skin of my teeth. But I knew going into the final I was out of my league. I’d emptied the tank to get there and had nothing left to give.
I finished nineteen seconds behind the winner. Do me a favor. Say “beep” out loud. Then count nineteen seconds silently in your head. Then, say “beep” again. I was that second beep. My fellow racers were lengths into their cool down by the time I crossed the line.
I paddled my way through one pathetic lap to cool down and then took it in. As I approached the dock I knew I was done. There was no coming back from this.
I’ll spare you the details of the rest of my time in Princeton, but the coach’s words stuck in my head. He said something along the lines of “if you think you have a chance in hell of making the team with that performance you’re kidding yourself.”
I wasn’t kidding myself. He was right. I needed a change. I moved back to DC shortly after.
This is where the search comes in. I was fortunate to be able to go back to the Potomac Boat Club and my coach Matt. He took the pressure off right away and we focused on getting back to the fundamentals. Getting healthy. And most importantly undoing all of the bad habits I had learned, which included negative self-talk.
A few years ago I’d put some mailbox stickers across the rigger on my single that said “BELIEVE IT.” Every time I went out for a row I saw those words. They reminded me to believe in myself and in my dreams. Those letters raced with me in Poland at my first international regatta in the single. But, as I looked at them while I rowed, they didn’t feel right anymore. I needed a new mantra.
I thought about my experiences in Princeton. How I was always hurt. Or complaining. Or angry at the coach. How nothing felt right. My single, which had always been my home base when things were bad, didn’t feel like home anymore. And then it came to me. The mantra I needed to get back to that home base.
I pulled out the mailbox stickers and affixed them to my rigger. Now staring back at me as I rowed were the words I needed to embrace more than anything: “LOVE IT.” It wasn’t an overnight change, but leaving Princeton to come back to a place I loved and adjusting my mindset helped me begin to enjoy what I was doing again. Over time the results were hard to ignore – I was healthier, happier, and going faster than I had all year in Princeton.
So – to go back to this idea of the search and what it means – sometimes it’s about loving what you do. Sometimes we lose that love. We try to replace it with medals or personal bests or being ultra competitive. But these extrinsic rewards fade and you’re left with an emptiness where joy should be.
That August I was back in Princeton, racing in the single at Pan American Trials. It was hard to face the fact that the last time I had been there was the worst performance of my career. But this time around I was in a different place. I was there because I loved rowing and competing and I was ready to prove to myself that I could do this again.
I won trials and later that fall I won my first gold medal in the single at the Pan American games in Guadalajara, Mexico. That’s the picture you see on my post – me crossing the line clenched fist raised. I remember closing my eyes as I gasped for air, lungs and legs burning, and feeling like my life had come full circle. I’d gone from the depths of despair and hating myself to a champion. I’d won gold yes, but I’d also won back my love of rowing and myself.
See, the search is a journey. To push your limits and struggle. To dream big and to love what you do. Finding my love of rowing was a search I had to go on. I was always capable of being a champion, but I’d never have gotten there if I’d given up.
And this theme of searching is a constant in my life. It continually pushes me to be better than I was the day before. To seek challenges and change and to overcome obstacles. When we are willing to search and endure the ups and downs and unknowns, we can accomplish amazing things.
Until next time.
Always on the search.
