Conversation Left Unheard

 About six months, fourteen hours ago everything changed.

Countless times I walked to my car, five/six o’clock, leaving work after too many hours that day. Normally I’d dial you up and we would talk while I drove home. About nothing, but it made my drive easier. Some days it was because I was killing it at work and wanted, with zero specifics, to share it. Other times it was because work was killing me, and without specifics I wanted to share it. That’s just who I’ve always been: short on words, big on thoughts.

It’s taken forever just to remember I can’t make that call anymore. One of the bad ones I was walking to my car, feet hurting, but man did I have a long ass, good day. I thought I’ll give you a call and chat. It took only a second to have that internal “Oh”

We would talk usually 25-30minutes, your normal long distance father-son conversation. How’s the weather. How’s work. What are you having for dinner. Have you seen your brother. How is Sam. How are the dogs. I can literally hear the conversation. You’d tell me about work. About Gmom. About Baxter. About your plans for the house. Something you had for dinner. Somewhere in that conversation you would tell me something that would make me worry, never intentionally, normally about your finances.

Not a day passes that I don’t recall something. Usually young things. Sad things. Happy things. A mixture.

I think a lot now, what I feel is pretty normal, about all the conversations that never happened. Maybe because I left home young. Maybe just because I didn’t reach that age where we have those conversations. Maybe because of how stubborn you were. But damn, there was a lot of talking and learning still to do. And that’s okay. We’ll still have those conversations, but now they’ll just sound a little different.

And don’t worry. It was cold and windy as hell today. I’ll probably have leftovers or something for dinner tonight. I made spaghetti and meatballs last night. Works good like normal. It’s been a bit since I saw Kevin, but I talked to him a couple days ago, all is good. Sam is doing good. She’s doing fine at work. Dogs are good. Kane is still crazy. No school for him lately, COVID and all. And no, I haven’t been snowboarding recently, hoping to go next week.

Scrambled Thoughts and Important Concepts

There's a video somewhere in the world of the internet, it is a interview with Joey Cheek. I can't find it at the moment but I've watched it a hundred times so bare with me on the exact details. He talks about the 2002 Games and winning a bronze medal, a medal he wasn't exactly expected to win. He talks about how awesome it felt and how great it was and the attention he got and then two weeks later no one cared. He talks about knowing in the coming days/weeks that the moment he wasn't having fun skating anymore he would be done. He talks about how everything he thought that medal would bring, it didn't, and even as an olympic medalist he was still just Joey Cheek. In the end, I don't know if he says it or if it's just what I took away from it: whatever closure or feeling you are hoping to gain by becoming an olympian or winning a medal won't be there. If you didn't feel like you had enough before, you won't afterwards. Many years ago this hit home for me, before I got this close, before any of it mattered.

I guess somewhere in here it's important for me to be heartfelt, to tell it like it is, so I guess here we go:
Two weeks from the start of trials, so I guess two weeks and a few days now. I was doing an off-ice workout involving one leg reactionary box jumps (small box) from the side. On my very last jump I had a misstep, I landed awkwardly on my ankle and it ballooned instantly I've never had anything like it. We did an MRI. I had one grade 1 partial tear, and one grade 2 partial tear in my ankle. Everyday I went to practice did whatever I could, went to the training room to work on stability, balance, rehab, recovery, then I went to the pool to do a low-impact workout, and then I went home and did rehab, balance, and stability workouts throughout the night. The first week after the incident there wasn't much I could do, by the end of that week I was able to skate close to normal at a slower speed. The next week was the week leading into trials, I was able to skate everything at practice. I continued my rehab and recovery. We had a tape job we did for practice, and then I would take that tape off and had a different tape job for the rest of the day. On Thursday the day before trials began, I couldn't skate a start with the tape. I kept slipping and had trouble with it. I decided I could skate without tape all together. Hindsight might be 20/20. I don't think I was able to skate without the tape. I had trouble, I had unprecedented falls, extremely high rate of slipping/breaking out, I just thought I was having a bad day... and then a second bad day. The last day was interesting to say the least, I still had a shot and I got pretty close, I also skated with tape that day. Had I skated the first two days like I did the last even with flaws and everything I believe I would have made the team.

To say it doesn't suck would be a lie, it does suck. But it life goes on. Probably two years ago I made the decision that this would be it for me, good or bad. The problem lies somewhere in the journey. My journey is different then others, and I don't mean the whole thing, I'm just talking about the current day-to-day. I'm assuming you already know if you are reading this, but five nights a week I'm at work until midnight. I walk 10-12 miles a night on average. I get 5-6 hours of sleep on those five nights and then I try and go to practice like it never happened. I can't skate if I don't work, and I can't move up anymore at work with skating. This grind is hard on me, its hard on those close to me that see it, that have to deal with only seeing me in the cracks between the two.

I've never once asked anyone for money, never complained that I deserved more, never cried on social media that working and skating is impossible. There was never a gofundme or anything else. The entire time, that was always by design. It wasn't easy, there were plenty of times I wasn't sure if or how I was going to make ends meet and continue skating. I got lucky a few times with unnamed people doing little things to help me out here and there.. this was how I was suppose to make it up to them. This might be one of the biggest parts of the journey for me, because it was my terms. Maybe you call it stubborn, maybe you call it stupid, but I've always said first I am an adult, and second I am an athlete. If I can't support myself as a human being and if I can't support myself as a speed skater then I won't do it.

Some might have seen me, seen my trials and wondered what was going on. Some probably insinuated and thought they knew exactly what was happening because that's what humans do. I guess in the end I can't exactly put my finger on what happened, but I can tell you what didn't happen. I'm a believer in what you tell yourself matters. I never thought for one second that I couldn't do it. I never gave up and I never lost my confidence. When I hurt my ankle I knew if my foot fit in my boot, I was going to skate, and from there I laughed it off. I just starting telling people, I can't do anything the easy way. After the first day, I was pissed off, I thought I let easy points walk away.. but I still thought I was making the team. After the second day I was upset, but I knew there was still another day and because of that I could still make the team.

In the end, it just wasn't in the cards, and that's something I can live with. Judging my life as a success or failure won't be measured by anything I could ever accomplish in sport, let alone on skates. Those guys that I trained with, that we went through some serious highs and some deep lows together, I wish them the best not just in the coming months but in the rest of their careers. If I could keep going on my own terms and on my own time I probably would.

Lastly, I've had a lot of people reach out to me and everyone's message is a little different and I appreciate every piece of it, I really do, even if I haven't responded just yet. One theme that keeps being repeated to me is that they were in my corner, and that they respect my journey and how it was unique and different and at the end of the day no one can rob me of the hard work it took to just get that far.

Without going into too much detail, by every statistical measure I was never suppose to get this far. When you look at backgrounds, and family, and upbringings there's no statistic that would have pointed me here. No matter what, this will be a success story.

Rule #1: Believe in Yourself

Where to start I guess? The last two stops of this years world cup circuit and also the last two Olympic Qualifying events have come to an end. Individually, I got to skate some races and was able to contribute to us qualifying some spots at the games. As a relay, we are coming back with a gold, a bronze, and a world record.

It feels great to string together some solid results as our last international competitions before the Games. There’s still a lot of work to do and even mistakes to fix, but there is no doubt we are on the right path.

For me, one of the biggest changes is just a mentality I chose to accept halfway through our Europe trip. I’ve always believed what you say or tell yourself has as much or more effect on performance as the physical training you do. Part of it for me is as simple as focusing on a few things I have to do in our relay to be successful.. not everything but just a few simple things. The next part is to stop caring about what the other teams might or could do. And lastly, just follow rule #1: believe in myself, and believe in my teammates. 

The path doesn’t get any easier here. We head back to SLC tomorrow where I’ll jump right back to work (as in my job) on Tuesday. While I try and balance a busy time there with probably the most important stretch of training of my career. In less than four weeks we will be competing in Olympic Trials and even with two medals and a world record it doesn’t guarantee myself or any of my teammates that we will be going to PyeongChang in February as our team for the Games is solely decided between three days of competition next month. 

“Life is what you make it. Always has been, always will be.” — Eleanor Roosevelt

Cloudy With A Chance of Rain

I can't describe the complete roller coaster of emotion I had this weekend. I've never been through anything like it. As much as I try to remember it's just never happened before.

But where do I start.

Several weeks ago, I finished up a practice and just didn't feel like myself. It was just hard. Not just a hard work-out (it was) but it was just hard for me to do anything. I skated poorly. Afterwards I talked to my trainer and coach, we decided to take the next day off. The next week it was more of the same. I just couldn't do anything. I'd show up and literally not be able to warm-up for practice. I didn't have the energy to do anything. This was an issue, I have a very demanding schedule with work and skating. After about a week and a half I started feeling like my old self again. I was worried that I missed too much training. Getting that close to trials. Two weeks before trials I started skating better almost everyday, somehow I figured out the simplest of technical things that helped put it all back together. The week of trials my concern was gone, I was skating great.

Fast forward a few days, Saturday morning. It was an early start for me. I'm not a huge morning person. The very first heat of fall trials I always have a tiny bit of nerves. I just have to get that first easy heat over with and I'm fine. Except I wasn't. The semi I deployed my usual strategy, and it worked but it didn't feel great. I tried to block it out. In the final I again used a strategy I've used a number of times and it never failed me. But this time it did. I actually died out in a race. That doesn't happen to me. Nothing changed that day for me and it felt way too much like the issue I had several weeks earlier. For my 1000m semi I went it with the mind set that it was my A final because I knew if I could get through it I wouldn't have anything left for the final. I fell with 7.5 laps to go while leading the race. It was a big disappointment. I left that day feeling as if everything went about as worse as it could have, but I was also afraid I wouldn't wake up feeling any better Sunday.

After cooling down and chatting with my coach, I was driving home when I heard a song on the radio I had never heard before and something about it caught my attention. I downloaded it, listened to it a lot.

The next morning I woke up and felt better. Tried to pack more calories into my breakfast to get me through the day. I left for the rink, plugged my phone into the car and turned that song on repeat. Time after time it just kept hitting me hard.

In the 500m I was able to skate my own race, something that sounds easier said than done when it comes to the 500m for me. I was skating very, very well. In my semi while in first place, I fell down. I didn't slip and didn't see it coming. I just put my blade down while crossing over and it didn't grab the ice. I went down fast. I've never.. ever had a fall that just sucked the life out of me like in that moment. I was skating so well, definitely on a high note thinking I was turning my trials around for the better.. That I could right the ship from yesterdays turbulent waters and then in the blink of an eye it was completely gone. Now I was in extreme danger of not even making the team at all.

The 1000m I didn't know what really to expect. I knew for the most part, it would come down to me and another skater and I wanted nothing more than to have an opportunity to race that person in the deciding race. In the semi that's exactly what happened. I skated a good race, not spectacular but mistake free and qualified for the A final.. giving me that final world cup spot. In that very moment the largest weight I've ever actually been able to feel came off of me. The expression is there, we've all heard it and probably have used it.... But in that moment it wasn't just an expression I actually could feel it come off of my shoulders.

In this crazy, wacky, and unpredictable sport I compete in anything can happen. It doesn't matter how good or bad you feel. For the overall point standings at the end of the competition I sat in third place, by the criteria they use to select our world cup team I finished 6th.

I Can't Keep Quiet -- Let Me Explain

I sat down the other day and read the entire McLaren report. The entire thing, you know, the report implicating a mass state-wide doping scandal in Russia. It's a pretty remarkable thing, at some point when this story has an ending I'm sure a movie will be based off of it (or maybe an ESPN 30for30). Reading the report it just sounds like something out of Hollywood.

Furthermore, today the IOC (International Olympic Committee) announced it would not exclude the Russian Olympic Team from Rio despite the suggestion from WADA (world anti-doping agency), and numerous other anti-doping organizations. Let me explain, should every single Russian athlete be banned? Probably not, but I don't have all of the details. If you are Russian, train outside of Russia for a length of time, and have a history of being tested out of competition by a non-russian anti-doping agency then you should be allowed to compete.

Again, I am no expert, I only have knowledge of the media and the McLaren report. But, if the allegations are true, which evidence and logic suggest they are, a state-sponsored doping program means that as an athlete you could have been exposed to forms of doping at a young age, it could be all you know as an elite athlete.

The allegations are so intense, so mind-boggling that a strong rash punishment is needed. It isn't as simple as going back and retesting samples. Thousand(s) of samples have been destroyed, samples switched with the presumable positive tests being poured down the drain, samples being found with multiple DNA's in them. These types of corruption do not deserve a benefit of the doubt.

Today the IOC made a decision to balance responsibility and "individual justice to which every human being and athlete is entitled to." Individual justice to several hundred Russian athletes instead of the individual justice of hundreds of thousands of individual athletes worldwide, both Olympians and Non-Olympians that have spent there athletic careers competing clean and doing things the right way.

Don't get me wrong, for the most part, I have sympathy for the Russian athletes. I really do. If your country, government, NGB (national governing-body), and organization tell you to 'take this' or 'drink that' because it will help with recovery, or help you.. You probably trust them and just do it especially if it starts at a younger age. But when they ask you to swish a PED cocktail around in your mouth and then spit it out that seems strange. Or when they test you before leaving for a competition and then decide to not send you that also seems strange.

My entire involvement in sport from the very beginning, was in search of proving I could do something. I want nothing more then to earn a medal every competition I attend, to stand on the most elusive podium in sport, as an Olympic Champion. But I could never look at that medal with an asterisk. I could never do anything to compromise my raw ability to possibly earn a medal it wouldn't be worth it. The whole concept for me is if I make an Olympic team, and I earn an Olympic medal it will be because of the hard work I put in. And if I fail to meet either of those objectives I will be able to walk away knowing I gave it the best chance I had.

A Letter To My Younger Self

Before I begin let me explain. If you've never checked out the Player's Tribune you have made a mistake. It's a fantastic website that allows you into the life of athletes in a way that hasn't been done before. One of the feature columns or articles consist of professional athletes writing letter's to ones own self at a younger age. Helping them, guiding them, informing them of the future. So I love it. I want to do it myself. I'm a speed skater, far from the level of professional athlete. I'll probably never have an opportunity to contribute to something like the Player's Tribune so here is my own version. Obviously, I am not retired, or retiring. Right now if I stop skating it would probably be called quitting more than retiring but I want to write this now. Maybe one day I'll have the chance to go back and rewrite a more formal version that can highlight from beginning to end.

Dear Keith,

The last thing you want to do right now is listen to anyone, about anything. You can hear people speaking but you just wish everyone would stop. But if you can find a way, I'm going to give you some advice, let you know what to expect going forward. I'm here to help.

Right now you are sitting down at the Indoor National Championships for speed skating. Over the last year you thought this was your time. Last year you skated well, not well enough to medal overall but you were younger then everyone beating you. This year you would be older and you would be winning. But right now you are sitting down on the floor, head resting on your knees, going over everything that went wrong while tearing up.

You just lost. You just failed to qualify for the final. You've always hated losing. But this time is different. You weren't good enough to compete for a chance to win.

Savior this loss. Before you even realize it, this single moment will shape you into the athlete you become for better and for worse. You are only 14 and nothing gets easier. Life will get hard, then it will get harder. Skating will take you on a roller coaster you couldn't have imagined.

You know at this point in your life that some have it better then others, you know some families don't have to live or struggle like yours. You don't understand how other people's emotions work and how their sacrifices come in to play but one day you will understand. You know right now, your father is upset. You think he's mad at you, and maybe he is a little bit. He wants you to succeed but he wants you to understand how much is sacrificed just for you to have this moment. He wants you to take advantage of it because you might not be able to afford it tomorrow.

He'll get upset enough that he doesn't come to the rink the day of the medal ceremony. After all, it would be a long shot for you to manage to land on the podium at this point. There is still one more distances final to be raced but you didn't qualify for it either and even though you won a distance you failed in the other two. The cards will fall very oddly. That year four skaters make the podium instead of three and you will end up fourth. You don't have your uniform or your skates with you. You call your Dad and just hope he answers the phone because he needs to bring your stuff or you can't even stand on the podium. He does.

You'll go home after this trip. You'll never be short on focus another day of practice in your life. People will tell you that it isn't possible but you have a feeling etched into you that you can't get rid of. You are not a loser. The next season will challenge you mentally and emotionally. Every indoor meet you go to that season you will be winning or skating very well but you will fall down.. every single one.

At home your parents fight. They always have. Usually it's about money. Your dad works as much as possible. He always has. Your mom is on worker's compensation after an injury, you don't know much of the details and you never really will. They sit and try to figure out how to pay the bills. Which one can we afford to make late, how do we pay for the next month of skating. You hear it all but never dare say a word about it. You learned the value of a dollar at a young age.

Based off of last year you didn't set extremely high goals.. you didn't believe in yourself yet. You'll go to jr world trials with your only expectation to not embarrass yourself. Before your first race your coach will do this weird thing in the car, he says its so when you win a medal he won't have too much energy and can act like it isn't a big deal. You feel a lump in your throat, you don't want to let people down but there is no way you can win a medal.

Your coach is a smart man who knows the sport. You'll win a medal, in that very first race. It'll be one of the purest moments of satisfaction,success, and surprise you will ever feel. Before the last distance you are on the cusp of qualifying for the jr world team. It was your goal to accomplish it in another year. Your coach tells you that you can decide your fate. If you go out and win the race you will make the team. If you lose, you go home. You lose again. It's bittersweet. On one hand you performed so much higher then you imagined but you still feel like you failed.

In a month you will go to indoor nationals just hoping not to fall down. You'll walk away that weekend as a national champion. You'll set three national records that weekend. You'll finally feel a little redemption.

After you get back your parents will split up, your dad moves out. All of your siblings, including you stay at home with your mom. Shortly after that you'll break your collarbone in two spots during a race. You'll skate 11 miles with a broken collarbone because you are not a loser. You'll stand on the podium as the winner of a season of outdoor races broken collarbone and all.. then you will go to hospital.

You grew up thinking your mom was great, she was always there at home while your Dad was at work. Over your childhood years, probably not intentionally, she will make you think less of your dad then you ever should have. Over the next year you'll start seeing your mom less. First she won't be home to cook dinner. Then she won't be home at all. When you get up for school she'll still be sleeping. When she gets up she'll be in her own world. You know she's fallen back into her old ways. She's an alcoholic. You don't know anything about drugs and how to identify if someone is on them but you think it's more then alcohol. Then she'll just stop coming home. You'll go days without seeing her. You are a smart kid so you learned how to cook but inside you are livid that your thirteen year old brother is without a mother to care for him. When winter comes around the heat is shut off. Your electricity too. You drive without a drivers license, to the grocery store to get food for home. You tell your brother it will be okay.

You'll make the decision to move out. You and your brother are going to stay with your dad. You won't even tell your mom you are leaving. She'll see the uhaul outside she'll come out to ask what is going on and you will tell her. She will cry, she will say she doesn't understand, there is a slur to her words. You will barely say a word, you will show no sympathy. This will be the last time you speak to the woman you thought would always be there for you and your siblings. You won't hold a grudge, you will forgive. But you will believe in surrounding yourself with people that are good for you and she won't fit the mold.

Skating takes off for you. Sponsors begin calling. You'll hurt your back before your next jr world trials and have to skate without being in the best shape but you will make the team. A former world team coach will tell you that you didn't deserve to make the team. She'll come up to you, introduce herself and then say you didn't deserve it. You go home, and train a minimum twice a day. Three times a day, whatever it takes. When worlds comes around you aren't skating like someone that barely made the team. That same coach will tell you they were wrong. You'll skate a relay and then call your coach that night. You'll tell him, "Jeff we did it, we won a silver medal."

A respected member of the skating community will publicly say your indoor national title the previous year was a fluke. He'll guarantee you can't win again. But you will. You'll lose the first race and then lead every lap the rest of the competition and you will win. Think about what I just told you. You'll lead every lap, 1500m, and win. Right now you can't imagine yourself ever having the endurance to win a longer race.

Skating will continue to go well. Money will continue to not go well. At one point you'll be taking change to a coin collecting machine in Walmart just to scrounge up enough money to pay the entry fee for nationals for you and your brother.

You don't know yet but you want to transition to ice. But you tell yourself you need to win an individual medal at the inline world championships first. You weigh your options heavily and try to decide what is right. After high school you get a full time job at Target, you work your way up to a department manger. Then a year later you decide its time even though that medal never came. You move, along with your girlfriend, all the way to Utah to tackle a dream. You move into a house with 4 other skaters, some big time names. Joey Mantia, Josh Wood, Justin Stelly, Hank Gailbraith. It's a big house and pretty cheap.

You have a little income but not much. Finding a job for you and Sam turns out to be a little harder then you expected. You'll struggle for awhile but get by. You'll excel on the ice very quickly. After a year you and Sam will move in with Jake Powers in a cool townhouse and you'll get two dogs to call your own. They are funny creatures.. absolutely nothing like you can currently imagine.

The whole time you are in Utah you'll work a full time job along with your skating commitments. You are the only guy working full time all year round. You are a senior manager at Target now. You skate all morning long, lift weights, run, bike, do dry land exercises, and then work all night. Some times you will go weeks with no more then 6 hours of sleep a night. You'll work overnights occasionally and then go to practice. One common theme will always be repeated to you, how do you do it. The first time someone asks it catches you by surprise. You never thought of it that way. You've always knew that skating was a privilege not an entitlement and that you had to work in life for things you wanted. You just start telling people when you have no other choice you have to do it.

Most of your time on ice will be riddled with scandal. Everything about this sport spells drama. You'll  get invited to skate with the national racing program and a coach that is everything you could want. He'll turn you from an inliner with knives on their feet into a short track speed skater. He'll get you to a high level in just one summer but you won't pickup on the racing side of the sport. You'll keep falling just barely short of the world cup team. They will keep telling you its because of your lack of experience. You'll get mad at your self. How can you falter at the exact thing you thrived at on inlines? You'll qualify for the 2014 Olympic trials. You won't be a favorite but you are a small threat. You'll fail and it will make you contemplate quitting. But you have never quit anything and you are not a loser.

The next year after the entire men's Olympic team chooses not to return to the sport you qualify for both world cup teams and world championships. You won't be allowed to work with your coach. He can't give you a training program and he can't help you at world cups. The following year you won't be allowed to skate for him. You'll be devastated. It's your career that is being hindered and no one will seem to care. But you are a resilient and smart guy. You'll pull from the very moment you find yourself at right now, you will remember that utter disgusting feeling and decide you cannot be a loser and you will go back to work. And the rest has yet to be written.

Take care of yourself kid and most importantly remember that you achieve nothing if you don't work hard at everything, every single day.

-Keith

In order to get where you are going, you have to remember where you've been.

When I had a chance to visit home my reason for making the trip was to get my mold done for my new boots. I've had 1 pair of boots since I switched over to ice and it had been some time and I thought it was the right time to get a new pair. Turns out my feet are a little different now then they were then so it was a good idea.

Anyway, I had the all important decision of trying to figure out my color scheme for my boots. My old pair I had this super out-of-this-world scheme and then I ditched it for an all black pair with yellow logos (i got nervous). This time I wanted to do something a little different but I struggled with what to do. White looks nice, but scuffing it up looks bad and I am that type of skater so I scratched that idea.

What I ended up doing means a lot to me and where I have been and I am glad I made that decision because not a day will go by that I will ever forget that. I've written a number of times about the journey.. about being just a little kid that wanted to skate and how terrible I was for like three solid years and then something clicked. Then I was all business. It was all skating all the time and I wanted to be the best I could everyday at every thing. What you do as a child can easily mold you as an adult and thats a concept that holds true for me.

So, I spent my childhood inlining like most of you already know. And I wouldn't be an ice skater, let alone short track, or be in the position I am today without that and whether or not I ever compete on my wheels again I will never forget that. More importantly I spent my days at the roller rink I visited in my last post. Skateaway in Shillington, PA. I left a lot at that rink. Time, sweat, blood, tears, struggles, success, wins, losses, everything. Without that rink I'm not me, plain and simple. Then at that rink I spent that time as a part of the SOS Speed Team. I wore that skin suit proudly and I loved my team and my environment and it means the world to me still. I can recall tons of races from start to finish still. I can walk in that rink and relive some tough days mentally, physically, and emotionally. I can remember some of the talks the team had and I still take a lot of that stuff to heart. I recently wrote an essay about me, about my history with inline and my struggles through it all and what I believe and what has molded me as an athlete and person. Almost every piece of that essay came from my time on that team and in that rink.

Anyway, every time I achieve something on the ice. I still wish I had that uniform on to wear it proudly because I stopped skating for just me a long time ago. Now I skate for me and I also skate for everyone that's helped me through the years and there has been a ton of us. Every time I workout or race I have so many memories with me. One of the things I've been asked is what would it mean to achieve success and to mean it will always mean we've done it together, all of us.

So with all of that being said, my boots that I just got in the mail today have a color scheme I am very proud to wear. This is probably the last pair of short track skates I will ever get as they will last me through the Olympic season in 2018 and if I'm able to make it and have that opportunity I am proud and glad to say I'll be wearing these colors. It means a lot to me that every practice I have now I can always look down and have a little something extra to help me get through it.

Where the road may go

I started planning last year when I would get a pair of new skates. I knew this year was when I needed to get the ball rolling. So, when I found out that I needed to make a trip to the Marchese Racing shop I decided to sandwich it around two days at home. The last time I visited Pennsylvania was November 2012 when a race I was attending in Ohio was cancelled so I spent the time home.

I kept myself pretty busy, flew in red-eye so I would have the rest of Tuesday at home and I ended up visiting an inline practice at the rink I spent years chasing dreams and checking off goals.

Wednesday I made my trip to the shop to get molded and really enjoyed seeing the process of boots being made. I'm a huge nerd with that stuff. I was so focused on everything going on and asking questions I didn't even end up taking a single photo. Oh well.

Thursday I visited some of my siblings and their children that basically couldn't remember me because they were so little last time I was here.

 

It was a trip I'm ultimately glad I made.

But mostly I want to focus on that first photo for today. Fourteen or fifteen years ago my family, already speed skating for a few years, switched to a rink further away for multiple reasons at the time. But as small of a change it was, it would have seemed impossible then that I would be where I am today.

Visiting that rink a couple of days ago really brought me back to a time I didn't even know I remembered. My first day I ever stepped into that rink. I was a small, scrawny, quiet nine year old that nodded his head instead of speaking and would do anything you told him to do. It was a fall practice after nationals so everything was back to the basics and we did circle laps. I watched the family of kids that were way better then me but all around my age. I didn't think I would ever be a regional, national, world, or olympic champion.. I just wanted to skate. 

I went through some really tough times at that rink on and off the skates over the years. Something I still believe and follow today is that our coaches would always say when you walk in that door all of your problems or issues will still be there when you walk back out so you might as well forget them for a few hours. Skating was an outlet for me for so many years.

I remember one year I struggled the whole season. Fell down at every indoor meet. Went to jr world team trials and just ever so barely missed making the team. I had a month or two before indoor nationals and like so many Wednesday nights, I would end up staying late and talking with my coach. I had a tough season, nationals would be my final race  of the year and I wanted to beat everyone that made the team instead of me and I wanted to stay on my feet. We were talking about what I needed to do to get on the podium. I stopped, and said all I want to do is win, getting on the podium wasn't enough. Somehow I won that year.

My favorite practices were always the days no one wanted to be at practice. For whatever reason, somehow everyone will end up sluggish on the same day. Maybe it's a crappy day outside and that's just the days vibe. Those rare days I didn't want to give 100% were my favorite because I knew no one wanted to.. So I would fight myself and truly force myself to give it everything I had. I always told myself those were the days that I would catch up to my competitors.

People say you have to remember where you are from and what you've been through in order to get where you are going.

What an Experience

Three weekends, three international short track events. That has been my life so far this month of November.

Making my first world cup team was awesome but it was always a means to an end, something I expected to allow me to compete at the next level. Going into those first two world cups I had no expectations because I had never done it before. I wasn't sure how it would go.. especially because this sport is dictated so little by speed and so much by racing strategy and tactics. I've been in the sport for four years and in the US we don't have a great racing series to continue developing up and coming talent which means in those four years I've only competed in 6 events against athletes that were traveling to world cups to compete.

Through two world cups I've had a little bad luck and a little bad of everything else. At the first world cup my blade was broken off of a start by another competitor. It's not a common thing to occur but it really sucks. Our relay had a little bit of lady luck on our side in Salt Lake though and we took home a bronze medal in the 5000m relay! It is of course great to earn a world cup medal in my very first event.
In Montreal I was trying to fix a few technical mistakes I made in Salt Lake, but while trying to do so I actually forced a few more technical errors on myself that I didn't even realize. The bad luck didn't stop in Salt Lake though. My first event in Montreal, the 1500m, I was scheduled to be in the very last heat (I think heat 10) and the heats take so long that when heat one skated I still had shoes on. Well, there was a change of heats and we (USA) missed the communication so my heat was changed from heat 10 to heat 2. I realized I was in heat 2 once they got on the ice. I slipped my skates on and competed against three Olympians with my skates completely untied.. Not a recipe for success on that one. Montreal was pretty much downhill from there. Without going into to much detail it didn't go so well. By the end of Montreal I was beyond frustrated. I was ready to get home and not ready to race again a few days later.

When I got back to SLC we trained twice Wednesday and it was a pure basics day for me. Getting help from my coach to point out the technical errors that shouldn't be there, and skating to fix them rather then trying to go fast. Thursday we were suppose to skate at the sight of the Apolo Ohno Invitational that would take place Friday night but some technical difficulties cancelled our ice time so it was back to the basics again Thursday to continue working out the technical kinks off the ice. Friday was a jam packed day for us. Practice ice session in the morning, followed by lunch provided downtown, back to the arena to warm up and then to skate our quarterfinals to get down to semi-finals that were showcased during the event. Then it was go-time.

The Apolo Ohno Invitational was a great experience. It was a completely different feel then a world cup which made it a little more relaxing. It was an incredible field which allowed me to race very, very great athletes again and learn more. And it was on television so it got our sport showcased and allowed people back home the chance to watch me compete which is always nice. More importantly if gave me another chance to renew some confidence I lost in Montreal and prove to myself that I could quickly fix a few errors or bad habits created during the prior two weekends of racing.

I skated so much better this time around then last weekend and although individually I didn't qualify for an 'A' final only one person did that wasn't an Olympic Medalist and that was my teammate. In the relay our incredibly young and inexperienced team pulled off a second place finish after a fall and a penalty to other countries. One of the craziest things in the relay for short track is how bad the ice gets. It is a little difficult to explain if you haven't experienced it but by the end of a 5000m relay the ice is chopped up and has ruts in it they you can get stuck in and lose a lot of your speed. These ruts make your blade jump from where you want it to be and where it ends up being which is why the event has so many falls. The catch is the ruts are created by so many laps and skaters skating in the same place on the ice, generally exactly where you want to skate in order to go fast so by the end of the relay you are skating a different track on the ice then you normally would to avoid the ruts.

To finish up the Apolo Ohno invitational renewing a little bit of my confidence is huge for me heading into the next two weeks of training and then two weeks from today I will be on my way to Shanghai to do it all over again!

Lastly, I started short track four years ago so, after Apolo had retired from the sport of short track. I had never actually met him before but I know so much about him as a competing athlete and a training athlete as we share the same coach. It was great to finally meet the guy that we are always trying to measure up to in our training sessions.

Reflection Day

"My great concern is not whether you have failed, but whether you are content with your failure."

When I get ready for a race our training gets a little easier so we can all taper and hopefully perform well. This means I have more time on my hand. And I always end up looking into the past. I do it for multiple reasons. Sometimes I am just looking to remember what held me back before so I can avoid it this time around. Sometimes I want to see exactly how far I've come or what my mindset was the time before. This is as much for me as it is for anyone else to read.

With all that being said, Tuesday I leave for my first world cup trials after the Olympic trials. Last season was pretty taxing on my mentally and I wasn't sure this was something I wanted to keep doing. But I understood myself well enough to know I wouldn't be able to live with walking away just yet.

Heading into this week I am fully aware there are five US Olympians that are not competing, but that is outside of my control. What has been in my control, the last five and a half months of torturing myself for my failures, in order to keep the complacency at bay. The last five months of training while constantly reminding myself of the failures that occurred just last season. Reminding myself there is no redemption. Four years from now I can try to redeem myself but until then I live with the burden of failure.

Realistically, this season is all about experience and gaining ground. Instead of an Olympic year where you take what you have and go with it, this season is about creating something you don't have. If you can lay the ground work now to improve drastically you set yourself up much better. Then of course, the last couple years I have been trying to learn on the fly. Trying to develop the skill in a season or two that the people I was aiming to beat had years to learn. Now, especially with some of them taking time off, this is the perfect opportunity to gain some of that experience and skill and learn.

As of right now, I am the oldest male athlete signed up to skate trials (or within a few months of the oldest).  I am only 23 years old. That kind of shows how young we are and how much we all have to learn.

Backtrack four years ago and I had yet to move to SLC. I knew I was about to but I didn't get here until after the world championships in November. Coming out here I had pretty realistic goals for myself. I wanted to learn as much as I could the first half season. The first full season I just wanted to race trials and hopefully learn something in the process. Following that the goal was to gain some experience the following season and hopefully finish top 5 in the final race. The next season I wanted to win the Am Cup series and I thought if I could do that I would put myself in a position to be competitive at Olympic Trials. Looking back, I qualified for trials in my first month in SLC, the next season I finished 3 at Am Cup Final, the next two seasons I won the Am Cup series and barely missed each world cup team. I went into Olympic trials with a legitimate shot at making the team, not a favorite by any means but I would be in the mix.

But what hurt was getting so good so fast and then stalling out because of the lack of racing skill and experience. Don't fool yourself there is nothing you can do on a pair of wheels that gives you any experience for pack racing on ice.

It's been a long journey so far. And with four years to come it's only going to be harder and longer. But I've been my biggest critic and now as I would expect nothing less, I am going into a race week feeling better than I ever.

The success is nothing without the journey. The struggles of today make tomorrow's victories vindicating.

Why I Want Shani Davis to Win

Before I even get started on this there are a few things I have to explain. I've ALWAYS put athletes on some sort of pedestal. I always thought that those that could achieve so much must have 'it'. I've never ever ever been confused as the most talented person, much less the most athletic. With that being said, I think subconsciously I've always thought the same about great athletes: they couldn't just be incredibly gifted and talented they must be gutting and working so unfathomably hard to perform at that high of a level.

It took me a very, very long time to realize it's not always the case. There are incredibly talented athletes that don't need to work as hard to achieve. They generally piss me off because I want them to work harder, to be even greater. Nevertheless, so many times in my life have a seen a skater that I looked up to when I was younger and surely thought they must be the hardest working person in the sport only to find out later that it is not the case. Time in time again I found out they weren't the person I envisioned in my head.

Before I can jump into my rant on Shani I have to explain I am a sports historian, much more a skating statistician. I have always, since I was 12 or 13 looked up decades of results, followed every competition I knew how to find results to. As an inliner I looked up every single result for the US at world championships I could find, individual results, team results, track results, road results.. All of them. I used to marvel not at the fact that Chad Hedrick won tons and tons of medals, but marvel at the margin that he would win point races. I would calculate how many first place laps he must of won. I would look at how many races someone skated at a certain world championships and how many medals they won in those races, how many gold. I would try and create formulas to decide who throughout history should be considered the best.

So when Chad switched to ice I naturally started looking up long track results. By 2006 I was looking up results for every US trials, every world cup, comparing splits. By this time I knew who Shani was. I didn't know Shani, but I knew all about his ability on the ice. I knew his short track background, his alternate status on the short track Olympic team in Salt Lake City in 2002. I knew that he barely ever lost.

He only got better, after the Turino games Shani hit his prime. It's difficult to understand, he is a world record holder. He has the 10 fastest sea level 1000m races ever. He has won sprint championships and all around championships.

My first summer in SLC I found out Shani skates short track all summer long until about July. Then he switches back over to long track and prepares for the season. He doesn't just skate short track, he skates with the National Team every year and he never fails to hold his own at practices with them.

The summer of 2012 was the first time I ever really talked to Shani and it also happened to be the first time I would train with him on the ice. I remember all he did was talk about how out of shape he was at first. We would skate, we would do our dry land, then our cardio. He would tell us how crazy our workout was.. then do it next to us. Laughing and giggling during the really painful parts.

What makes Shani so special, isn't one thing alone. Sure, he trains alone which is incredible for an athlete that has been so dominate to understand so much of what he needs to succeed. To be in tune with your body to the point that you know when and how to train for fast ice or slow ice or how to get just a little faster or improve your endurance just a little and oh did I mention skate with some of the best technique ever.. at least through the turns. But none of that alone makes Shani that special. I remember that summer that he was apparently 'out of shape' we would do our workouts then go inside to cool down or ice and recover. When I would be leaving the oval in my car there was Shani.. working out again.

I don't know if there is a single person that doesn't like Shani. He has such a personality. He can joke around with anyone and it's always funny. He talks to everyone when he's at the oval asking how things are going. He gives everyone a nickname. And no matter how training is going he never gets angry or upset or at least you can never tell.

I want Shani to win because today I was at practice with my phone on the pads. After every set I went and refreshed my phone waiting for the results like I have the past few days. Once I saw Shani didn't win, much less didn't medal I didn't want to practice anymore. I didn't want to be skating.

When I think incredibly gifted-athlete-that-achieves-greatness but trains-even-harder to stay there while being-down-to-earth-and-generally-a-cool-person-to-be-around I think Shani Davis. That's why I want him to win.

History with Present Olympians

I started thinking about some of the speed skaters that will be taking part in the games over the next two weeks. And since opening ceremonies is tomorrow I figured it might be kind of cool to recap some of my memories I have with them. There are quite a few.

First, I guess I will start with Jess and Brittany. I pair them together because my first real significant memory with either of them happened when they were together. My first world team was in 2007. After making the team and everything we had a couple of months before residency. I just remember having never really talked to either of them they were super nice, helpful, and encouraging to me that entire stretch of time. I was 16, they were both on the Senior Ladies team. Then of course there is the fact that I've trained with Jess for almost two seasons now. She's always tried to help me out, having made the same jump from inline to ice 4 years before me and having dealt with some of the same technique issues that I've had with the switch. And then lastly of course, when I think of Jess right now I also think of Mike, her fiancé. Mike was one of my first ice coaches when I moved to SLC for about 6 weeks before he left to coach Germany. The last couple of months he has been back and he helped me with my equipment, strategy, and coaching the entire way through Olympic trials.

Next, I'll jump into Chris Creveling. I probably have the deepest roots with Chris. I grew watching Chris skate inlines as he is about five years older then me. My earliest memory would probably have to be when I was 12 at our inline regional championships I broke Chris' 300m record for the age group I was in from when he was in it in 1998. I went up to him and told him I broke it and he bet me I couldn't break his 500m record as well. I was 12 and when I broke the 500m record it was cool for me to go tell him that too. After that there are various memories throughout the years but I still remember the time we spent skating for MPC and testing wheels and everything.

Next we will go to Kyle Carr. I skated with Kyle when I was just a little kid and he still wore glasses when he raced. I don't have a ton of memories back then but I do remember skating inlines with him again in 2005 in Reading.

From there it's Eddy. My first memory of Eddy isn't even a memory of Eddy. I was at practice one time at the beginning of our training before the 2003-2004 season. Some of our older skaters and I were stretching after our warm-up. They were talking about my chances as I moved up into the next division. They decided I had fair chances, not great but not too bad. Then one said, wait, you have to race Eddy Alvarez.. you are screwed. I didn't even know who he was! Anyway, that year at nationals going into the last final I was in like fourth overall with a shot to get a medal. Eddy had gotten disqualified in both the previous distances so I was ahead of him overall. He ended up winning the last final which but my outside of the medals that year.

Coming up on my last two athletes: Jonathan. I don't have a ton of memories with Jonathan. My biggest memory is probably all the times he and Sebastian would argue and fight during residency training or pretty much any time they were together.

Lastly would be Joey. I don't have too many personal memories with Joey. Lot's of races, lot's of time at different worlds hanging out with everyone. There was also the year we I lived with him here in Utah. I guess two things that stand out both happened in the same year: 2009. The relay on track when he made a really good skater look like they were standing still, and the marathon when he told us he wanted to start his field sprint somewhere around 20th so know one would follow him.

Then there is Shani.. which I will save for a separate post later.

Feels Like

I don't really know the intent of this blog, I just want to write something. I haven't really said much about my skating over the last several weeks. Honestly I haven't wanted to think about it at all.

The absolute biggest change for me competing and training in an Olympic sport versus competing in a Pan American sport are the highs and lows. The highs feel really good and the lows make you rethink what you are even doing.

Fall trials seems like a nightmare and I can't even remember that much about it. I just remember the way I lost.. the last race. Then I remember all of the feelings afterward. I wanted to walk away.. for about two weeks I didn't want to skate anymore. Then I was all in. Then Olympic trials happened. It felt similar to fall trials but completely different at the same time. Olympics trials didn't go well from the get-go. There wasn't a single race I felt that I didn't underperform. So there wasn't a crushing/bitter defeat to end the competition it was just a slow grind of underachieving for four solid days.

The similar parts are the feeling afterward. I'm going another four years. But in my head I just hear this crazy echo of four years. The things I need to improve upon to make that next step are so minute yet make such a profound difference it's incredibly frustrating. I have a hard time thinking about how much hard work has to be put into this. How much stress and sacrifice it involves. The feeling of utter exhaustion of throwing 40 hours/week of work over the next 208 weeks understanding that until I am done skating I can't advance any further in my workplace.

When I switched to ice the idea of skating until 2018 was a given, I was pretty confident 2022 was in play as well.

But I actually had to sit down and contemplate if I wanted to skate anymore. Right now, still in one of those crazy low points I mentioned earlier I still don't know if I should. My deciding factor when I put my thought process into it was to eliminate the now. To try and imagine sitting watching the 2018 games without absolutely no regrets. To see some of my competitors or teammates at the games and not feel like I should be there. I can't do it. That alone is the reason I have to move past this. I feel a certain amount of pride with being able to make that decision. I don't want to feel this low but somewhere deep down I know this agony I can't get past will only help me. Lastly, I found a quote by Abraham Lincoln that pretty much put everything in a nutshell for me. He once said, "My great concern is not whether you have failed, but whether you are content with your failure."

Second Guess

There are some nights when I actually have a few moments to myself. That I will sit and think exactly how far I've come. Sometimes there's a moment of doubt. Occasionally I find myself second guessing, not believing in myself. But sometimes I think again of where I've been and how many people have helped me get here. All of these people over all of these years. If so many have believed in me enough to help me along the way then we can't all be wrong.

So many times have I been told just keep working hard. Ever since I was a kid I feel like someone has told me every year to just keep at it and my time will come. Every year someone has sacrificed something for me without anything in return. People worry about me for reasons that are beyond my comprehension. Some want success for me bad enough they worry about what I put myself through just to have this opportunity. They have to see something substantial. 

I hear all the time about pressure. About not putting pressure on yourself. About doing it strictly for youself and no one else. I don't see it that way. I want it for me and the hundreds or thousands of people that have helped me get here. I want to succeed and share that moment with all of them. When I start second guessing myself it only lasts a moment because then I realize how many people have the faith and belief in me and that feeling is enough to conquer the world. 

Trapped in a cycle

This of course is my first go round in this whole Olympic thing. Mid way through next year will mark my first full cycle. The one thing that's always in my mind is what it all means. I am not one of these professional athletes you see on TV. The ones that make millions of dollars and compete 16-160+ times a year. Who can afford a bad day. Who can get complacent and afford to put one in the L column. 

I am an athlete in an Olympic cycle. Which means I have one single shot at this. Otherwise I have to wait four years. Four years? Let's put four years into perspective. 

A different president will be in office. Kobe Bryant will most likely be a retired athlete. Along with Peyton Manning and Tom Brady. Every Current high school student should have graduated by then. Over 10 million people will die. Over 11 million children will be birthed. And yet all of that happens before the next Olympic Trials.

If this doesn't go my way, if I have an off day I will have 4 years or 1461 days to play it back in my head. What if my prime is gone? What if I suffer a serious injury? What if life's course takes me away from the sport. I am not a professional athlete who suffers an injury and can come back the next season and have the same goals. No. Imagine if every time a professional Superstar gets injured they have to wait four years to compete for a championship. That means Adrian Peterson doesn't run for 2,000 yards last year and isn't the MVP. Peyton Manning doesn't throw for a bizillion yards last season or this year, he isn't the comeback player. In fact he would have been 40 when he was coming back after missing his opportunity in a 4 year cycle. That would have probably ended his career.

There is a lot of importance on the Olympic cycle. You have to plan your life around being the best at the right time in the right year. That is incredible. At this point in the game it's not about speed, endurance, knowledge, ability, or any physical aspect. It's just all about execution through a 4-day window. Nail it then and you have reached the pinnacle of sport. Blow it and you may never have another opportunity.

Hard Work

I am a true believer in hard work. A blue-collar attitude. Ever since I was a kid I have been told if you work hard you can do it. Nothing has ever come very easy to me except for math and hard work. When I first started skating when I was five all I did was work hard. Couldn't skate worth a damn but I did everything I was told to do. A couple of years later I was told by my coach if you give me 100% and your focus you will get what you want.

Ever since that moment it's all I've known.

Hard work is a funny thing though, it is deeply restricted by the human brain. When I was first told, 'give me everything you got and you will get what you want.' I got what I wanted and I put everything I had into each practice but that was only 4 practices a week. I didn't think I could have trained any harder, I was 11. 

Then I was told to get where you want to go we have to train harder then you ever have. I did that too, and I gave every practice a solid 100. I got where I wanted to go, I was now 13 and I didn't think I could possibly train any harder then I was. That time I may have been practicing about 6 times a week.

After that I was again told if I wanted to reach my goals I would have to train harder then I ever have. I would have to rest properly, I would have eat better. I started practicing twice somedays, I built a slide board and put it in my bedroom. I put everything after skating, still I was just 15 surely I could not train any harder.

Fast forward until 2013, and I've trained harder then ever before. Harder then I ever would have assumed possible. I don't believe I could have trained much harder up to this point, maybe extend the length of what I will call hell weeks but during those weeks absolute effort was on display. 

Sometimes I think back and only wish I knew how far my body could have gone those years on my wheels. When I didn't believe I could possibly go any harder, there was a lot left to do.

Still I believe absolute effort must be given in order to achieve anything. It's a hard work frame of mind. If you can fight everyday to give it everything you have then you have to get better.

Hard work is the only thing I know how to do. Whether it be skating, work, or life in general I have to work hard.

Drift away

Most nights I lay awake in bed. Trying to sleep but understanding it won't happen. Sometimes it's the pain of grinding out workout after workout without proper nutrition, recovery, cool down. Other times it's the aches and pains of my back or knees that remind me I may be human after all. Or it may even be the stress of work keeping me on my toes.

Other nights it's my mind replaying a scene over and over and over again. It's never a long scene, never a race. Usually a couple of seconds of real time slowed down to last a minute or two, over and over and over again. One corner of one lap of one race maybe. Just a mistake, maybe a couple of inches here or there, maybe a split second of lost balance, or a lapse in mental judgement. Over and over again. Never changes. Never visualize it the way i thought it would go before it happened. This repeat is different, the repetitiveness is simply to prevent it from ever happening again. To dwell on it. To get angry about it. Sometimes it's not even a race. Sometimes it's not even to get angry over. Maybe it's a corner of one lap of one drill of one practice. Maybe it's something done correctly. It stays and lingers and plays and plays over and over trying to create muscle memory through a simple slowed image.

Sometimes it's just motivation. It's not easy to wake up and run your mind and body into a wall everyday, over and over again. It could be a word. Maybe a thought. A feeling. It seems to always be a similar theme, someone else's voice or thought describing exactly what I can't do and why.

Then right before I finally drift off it's always there in some concept or another, some phrase, word, or emotion: watch me. 

Gut Check

A couple of weeks ago I wrapped up 2013 single distance championships, which by all means was the trial run for the Olympic trials in January. More then that, it qualified athletes to compete in world cups 1-4, 3 and 4 serve as Olympic qualifiers for country positions. In other words, a poor World Cup 3 and 4 would limit how many athletes we take to compete at the games, or in each distance, or if we qualify a relay for the games.

Trials was the same format as Olympic trials. But six qualified to compete compared to the maximum of 5 that can at the games, if we qualify a relay. 

When it all ended I finished 7th. It was very difficult for me to swallow. My pride took a huge hit failing to qualify, to be completely honest. Not because this was my ultimate goal. My ultimate goal since November 2010 when I moved to SLC for ice has been Olympic Trials. The way it all happened is what made it hard. Last summer I gained an inordinate amount of speed in a short period of time, although I had the speed to make the team last year, I didn't know how to skate at all yet. 

This year the focus was trying to learn how to skate, and I made great strides in that regard. But falling down in 4/6 distances and getting DQ'd in another doesn't spell out a great performance. It's more then that even, falling down happens. But the way I fell sucked, once or twice was just random acts of a blade being on the ice instead of in it. Most were because I failed to control the speed I had at critical spots on the track.

Heading into the final distance I was in 6th place. I thought I new what I was doing at a time in my last race and I miscalculated. And in return I failed to qualify. Deja vu. In 2006 the final race of jr inline trials I still had a chance to make the team, and I blew it. You learn from your mistakes, but sometimes they linger.

The week that followed trials was tough for me. The next morning I was at work explaining 100 times that I finished 7th and six qualified. The thought that continued to run through my head wasn't that I failed, wasn't that I wasn't physically as fast or anything else. It was the idea that I'm putting in 80-90 hour weeks between training and work and I didn't have anything to show for it. I didn't have the vindication I was looking for. That's what weighed on me. 

A lot of people like to mention my time on the ice.. Still under three years, and tell me how impressive it is to be where I'm at in that time frame. I acknowledge and appreciate the compliment but in competition no one cares if you've been skating a day or a lifetime. It does remind me I'm learning on the fly, I didn't fully dedicate myself to just ice until last season. But when I chose to move to SLC my timing was mostly based on the idea that I didn't want to get really good in the 2015, the season after the games. I made the move when I did with the idea that if I picked it up quick then I had time to figure it out before the games. 

I briefly thought I couldn't do it anymore that there was no way I could keep it up. My body hurts everyday, regardless of training, just being on my feet, not sleeping, not resting, not sitting, always moving 18-20 hours a day my body aches but I'm only 22. My diet isn't what I wanted to be, but the only two days I don't work I train even longer, some weeks I don't feel like cooking the food required for lunch and dinner for three days at a time. My recovery after training sessions normally consist of a 3min locker room shower followed by rushing off to work. At work I run a department and a few times a week I'm in charge of the store as well. 

Sure enough during my first training session after trials I still had mixed feelings about my capabilities. Then a hard workout put things back in perspective for me. I was done feeling sorry for myself. Within about a 45 minute span I 180'd everything. Now I find myself challenging my mental and physical capabilities. Keeping the purposes of everything in the front of my mind so I can focus on the details that can't be seen.

I have a little over three months and the way I see it, the only thing in my way is me. 

What the world owes

First, huge venting blog coming, if you don't care for it, pass it by.

I've come to learn that a lot of people think the world owes them something. Not the entire world (I bet those people exist too) because that would be too funny. But let's narrow the subject field down, let's say athletes. Athletes use these words like 'deserve' which basically means 'I'm better then my competition so this should be mine.' Which is quite demeaning actually. Let's continue though.

Athletes in the US always gripe about funding problems. Usually an argument comes up with if country (whatever country supports its athletes but is not comparable to the United States) can support its athletes the US should be able to. My biggest argument is go move then. To be honest, the country we live in is pretty great compared to a lot of other countries, even ones that support their athletes so if you want to sacrifice everything you do have in this country for a little support go right ahead, good luck.

Next, hard work goes a long way. Those that complain they NEED funding don't, plain and simple. They want funding but they don't need it. Those that NEED something find other ways to obtain it. Saying I need funding because it might affect my training is obsolete. If you NEED something, like money, you go out and make it plain and simple. Most athletes are the laziest SOB's out there. I don't mind saying it. Just because you work hard at a practice doesn't excuse you from working hard in life. Sport is a choice, regardless of how many people tell you it's their life, it's a choice. At least in this country. Skating is my life, but I support that lifestyle.

Sacrifice. This is a good one, sacrifice to athletes means living away from friends and family, putting off school, working hard at practice, and my favorite training through a injury. Those aren't real sacrifices. Athletes NEED something (like funding) so they don't have to make sacrifices, so they can train and then relax the rest of their days, so they can get 8-10 hours of sleep every night. So they can maintain a lifestyle. 

If you want something in life work for it, you might have to make sacrifices, and you might fall short in the long run. But you will never need to look back, and IF, if you succeed there is no greater satisfaction then being solely responsible for your success.

Where the heart lies

First, there are few times if any, that you experience a certain feeling of excitement. There are very few times that you would rather see someone else succeed then yourself. The first time I was overjoyed and just down right happy about someone's success was a few years ago when my brother won the 200m TT at jr trials. This week I was able to experience that feeling again.

I think proud is a better description. Just a feeling of pride washes over you for someone. Like you are just so proud of someone for what they were able to do. I wish I could feel it more often. Following along while Daniel skated trials gave me that feeling again. To be a first year junior and make the team basically off of just the four distance races is rare feat. Most people that make it right away are overall good skaters, skaters that get some points in all distances but aren't necessarily exceptional at any at that age. That wasn't Daniel. What he lacked in short twitch muscles he more then made up for with endurance and a fearlessness of getting tired.

Once upon a time we considered transferring to junior world class and making the junior world team a 3 part process:

First: you had to get strong enough, fast enough just to keep up.

Second: you had to learn how to race, make your mistakes and learn from them.

Third: Put it all together and see the finished product. 

With the top 8 point format that isn't necessarily the case anymore but it doesn't make it any less impressive. Watching the updates of the do-or-die points race was quite exciting for me. To see someone in any division get points on 18 of the last 19 laps (25 lap race) is incredibly rare. To follow along while he managed to be the only other jr man to win a race besides the incredibly impressive Tanner Worley made me pretty proud. 

I guess having practiced with Daniel since he was just a little kid plays a pretty big part. The other part is just how raw he is. So much still to learn about racing. So much to improve upon technically as a skater and yet it didn't matter. That's impressive to me. Plus he is the complete opposite of me as a skater around that age. I didn't finish a long race until I was 17 I think. Didn't earn a distance medal until 18. I've always had a certain appreciation for distance skaters, so much of each race is about fighting through being tired and willing yourself on, realizing everyone is tired and someone still has to win. For me, around 17 that's when i figured out that at the end of races everyone was tired. Once I realized everyone gets tired I could convince myself that my tired was better then theirs. 

Next I realized over the course of the week that my heart is still and always will be with my wheels. I truly believe I'll be back on my wheels at a trials again, I just can't put a date on it. I love the sport that molded me as a person and created every opportunity I have today. That and I still know I had to leave before I was ready so I still have some unfinished business. 

I was proud of the little ole' rink we skated at in Shillington. With our piss poor concrete floor that no one ever shied away from telling us no one could win practicing on. Everyone shows up and works hard and when you don't, you knew about it without being told. I hated when people would come to practice and not work hard. I always tried to work hard even on my worse days because I never wanted anyone younger or slower then me to think taking a day off was okay. There are always practices where the whole team is generally sluggish. I'm sure every team has them, sometimes it's the weather or the time of day or whatever but they happen. Whenever I felt those days and felt that way myself I would try as hard as possible for two reasons:

1. I didn't want to set a bad example

2. I knew if I blew up trying too hard no one was going to beat me feeling sluggish.

Lastly, I was proud of my coach, Jeff. For everything I guess. I never took for granted how much he sacrificed to work with me day in and day out. To do whatever it took, I always understood how much extra time must have been spent just thinking about all the questions and ideas and comments I always had. The best part is that he always demanded more of me as a person then a skater, and that made me the skater I became. I still remember some days it would just be Jeff, Kevin, and I on a late Wednesday night skating, and skating hard. I always wondered if those were the easy days to coach or the hard ones, just two skaters. 

When I first started skating for Jeff I was 9 and just a little kid. We had a huge team(and then we lost our nice wood floor and our team moved on from the sport for the most part. Ever since our team at our rink has been pretty small, but pretty successful.) and sometimes Jeff would address the team even if it was directed at a few skaters. I remember when I was probably 10 he gave us a speech about working hard. That we got what we put in. That if we gave him everything we had he would make sure we reached our goals. That hit home for me at just ten years old. I thought if I just try really hard Jeff can make me win. And it still works.

Before me there was always success at our club. One of the most iconic inliners, Steve Carter, came before me and he was exactly who i wanted to be. As a kid I was so naive I didn't know where or how people even made a world team. Steve would call and tell Jeff he made it again and Jeff would tell us and I would sit there in awe, "Steve's so good he made a world team."

After Steve I was the next one to make a world team, after me there was Sam and Kim. Then my brother, and now Daniel. Seven straight years of someone from one rink making a world team without it being the same person is no small feat. The only thing we all share is the man coaching us. 

And lastly (really this time) there is Kelly Archie. Our other coach and the only other coach our rink has had since before I was there. You always new how to make everyone work hard when Jeff wasn't there, and how to keep everyone trying when they wanted to quit. You always put the skaters way above your own skating and that's a sacrifice a lot of people can't make. You don't get the limelight or the recognition but your contribution to the success of our teams over the years was always felt.