Some days it feels like yesterday, other days it feels like “yep, it really was that long ago”. One thing is certain, the Olympic experience is one that I will hold dear to my being for a lifetime to come. It’s not just for the experience itself -- which in the moment, felt like time snapped its fingers and the “Olympic high” was sent barreling down the backside of that mountain of accomplishment, but I digress… It was rather, all of the unlikely travels, experiences, life lessons, and camaraderie’s forged that led to those achievements. The Olympic ethos of “It’s not every four years, it’s every day”, isn’t just a pithy statement. It’s real life. It’s not just the Olympic achievement that makes it special, it’s the rugged and less traveled path that takes you through the perilous terrain of challenges and the uncertainty that four year interludes between Olympics can pose. Nonetheless, once the Olympic birth is solidified, there are a cascading series of events that finally, have you feeling like the time has come. The team is announced, a pre-Olympic's publicity schedule begins to fill in free time around training sessions, the chartered flights are booked, the team processing is performed, touch down in the host city, credentials are handed out, the moment has arrived. The athletes that don’t have competitions that interfere are staged by country according to the Greek alphabet and poised to march in the Opening Ceremonies soon to be televised before billions of viewers. The torch is lit commencing the official start to the Games. The dining hall becomes the main congregation point for all of the athletes at some stage, where training and competition highlights are recapped and people watching becomes a satisfying, yet mindless activity as you join the ranks of the fortunate few that have been selected to fly their country’s flag on their sleeve. There is soon a sense of normalcy and routine that settles in to be in that rare air, in that bubble that isn’t quite real life for two and a half weeks. It’s a small city with everything from a place to get your hair cut, to laundry services, to game rooms. Each Olympics takes on a life of its own and comes with a certain expectation. No two are alike. My first Games was Athen’s Greece. A country and a venue I had visited four years earlier when competing at the Jr. World Championships. It was almost like my young career had come full circle already. To compete on the world’s most significant sporting stage in the country where the Olympics began, was nothing short of remarkable. The host country embraced us and the historical pedigree was palatable. Doing a rooftop interview with the Acropolis as your backdrop was assured to be memorable and I felt blessed to experience it all with my parents in tow. Four years later, I competed in a country that had 140 times the amount of people occupying it. Every arena and every production was designed to be on a scale never before seen. It did not disappoint. The most noteworthy venue being the Bird’s Nest athletics stadium. Equally as recognizable was the uniquely colorfully illuminated Watercube which hosted the swimming events. Before the start of the Beijing Games a fellow Team USA athlete and I were given the opportunity to “model” the men’s and women’s Opening Ceremonies uniforms on the Today Show. Four years following this 29th Olympiad, I was able to make the selection for the London Olympic Long Team – the final selection pool of athletes from which the team would be chosen. This would be my third consecutive Games, but disappointingly, I missed out on being selected. An inevitable reality the longer you spend in sport. To step out of the athlete spotlight is no easier. The more time you spend away from it, the more the reality of an identity largely revolving around athletic gifts seems to be getting a little further from your grasp. The mind insists you’re still capable of peak performance, but the body begins to say otherwise. The reality besets us all at some point, that we will quite literally, never be as “good” as we once were. For the high performer, it’s the amount of weight you once picked up, pushed, or threw, sometimes without giving a proper warmup the credence it deserved. And of course, knowing you will one day not be capable of the power output, speeds, or even durations you once performed with the appearance of effortlessness to the untrained eye. Throughout my career, I looked for legitimate means of maximizing my performance output, recovery methodologies, and longevity in the sport. SKINS was one of the most versatile tools I routinely integrated. The compression garment that I always found a use for. If it wasn’t the long or short tights in the weight room, it was on the bike. If it wasn’t on the bike, it was the compression socks and travel tights on long haul flights, or while sleeping following a hard day’s training session or travel day. I found uses across the board. Now, as a weekend athlete, striving to maintain a routine and an appearance that is consistent with the lifestyle I once enjoyed for nearly two decades, I feel I have a duty to represent myself as an Olympian. As we say, “Never former, never past”. Being able to stay active at a high level and recover at a high level is important to me. SKINS compression garments are a tool I continue to use that afford me a leg up on the competitor we will never outpace, and that is time. I feel more confident in my movements with the security my muscles feel while in SKINS and I know my recovery is better too. While my Olympic journey may be complete, my athletic journey continues. The compliment I hear that makes me quietly smile to myself is the “you look like you play a sport”. Yep, it feels like yesterday. I hope to maintain that appearance and perform the part for a long time to come and inspire young and old alike, that limitations are self-imposed. Take care of your body and it will take care of you. Thank you, SKINS.
