Crisis Text Line has decided to stop sharing conversation data with spun-off AI company Loris.ai after facing scrutiny from data privacy experts. “During these past days, we have listened closely to our community’s concerns,” the hotline service writes in a statement on its website. “We hear you. Crisis Text Line has had an open and public relationship with Loris AI. We understand that you don’t want Crisis Text Line to share any data with Loris, even though the data is handled securely, anonymized and scrubbed of personally identifiable information.” Loris.ai will delete any data it has received from Crisis Text Line.
Politico recently reported how Crisis Text Line (which is not affiliated with the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline)…
After multiple rebrands, congressional hearings, and several high-profile staff departures, the Meta-backed cryptocurrency known as Diem is calling it quits.
The association behind Diem confirmed Monday that it sold its assets for around $200 million to Silvergate, a crypto-focused bank it was working with last year to launch a stablecoin pegged to the U.S. dollar. The decision to sell was made after it “became clear from our dialogue with federal regulators that the project could not move ahead,” Diem CEO Stuart Levey said in a press release. (It’s already known that the U.S. Federal Reserve was a key opponent to Diem launching.)
Researchers have identified an enzyme in the thymus that is essential for immune T cells to correctly identify threats, safeguarding them from going rogue and attacking healthy tissue in the body.
Elite American athlete Josh Williamson is gearing up for a slot on the Team USA Olympic Bobsled team. Very few bobsledders come from the state of Florida, but the line of questioning about a snowless kid pursuing a winter sport has grown tiresome for Williamson. He’s ready to talk about much more. Known for being a methodical tactician with a giant work ethic, Williamson spoke with Men’s Journal from his apartment at the Olympic Training Center in Lake Placid, NY, on the eve of his departure for Europe and pre-Olympic competition.
Men’s Journal: How are you feeling today with so much big competition approaching—and so many years of training distilled down to hundredths of a second?
Josh Williamson: Yes! Faster than the blink of an eye. You can win or lose by just that. I feel really good. I’m anxious and excited, but mainly just ready to go. We’ve put a lot of work in this summer. It’s pretty exciting.
Are there any rituals you stick to during your “off days” of training?
Every day I try to do some kind of activity, even if it’s just a low-intensity, 10-minute bike ride. I make sure I get enough sleep—sleep in if I have to—eat a ton, drink lots of water, and be as low stress as I can. I try to pack [in advance] to make sure I’m not stressfully scrambling around before travel. I like to keep the nervous system cool and calm to get as recovered as possible.
With bobsledding being such a short burst, high-intensity, sprint-like sport, it requires heavy weightlifting movements—so it’s really important my nervous system stays healthy when I’m burning that candle. If I’m stressed in my life, whether it’s with a relationship or family or anything like that, I’m burning the candle at both ends—so sometimes the best thing to do is just rest to feel fresh when it’s time to really get after it, whether it’s on a race day or on those hard training days.
How would you describe your road to the Olympic Games so far? Have there been any twists, turns, or surprises?
One of the biggest surprises for me is finding ways outside of training and competition to cool down. Mental health is key. I played sports my entire life—and was always the tall, lanky kid. Another twist, early in high school, was finding the weight room. Eventually I got a strength and conditioning coach who really made me love it, and I started to see results from consistently showing up. It put me in a strong, positive position for bobsled.
As far as training, I love sprinting, weightlifting, and jumping. Anything that requires explosive, short-burst movement is something I really enjoy doing. Motivation to train has never been an issue for me—not even the monotony of it, surprisingly enough. It’s actually something I enthusiastically embrace. I’m a big routine guy—y’know, the disciplined, methodical guy who lays his clothes out for the next day.
Sometimes I’d say I have to pull back on the reins a little bit. I’ll stay up too late at night watching videos of my training instead of getting enough sleep. I can stress myself out over perfection and that stress to the body isn’t good.
What do you like to do in your free time?
It’s the little things that keep me happy. I love drinking coffee. That’s not very unique, but I really enjoy it. I love getting outside. Up here in the Adirondacks it’s so beautiful. I never grew up around mountains. In Florida, I spent almost every day in a lake, river, or the ocean. I love that too, but up here it’s just a completely different environment and beautiful in another way. I limit time on my phone and computer, which really improves my mood. I have a lot of great friends here at the Olympic Training Center, but it’s almost like dorm living. I tend to be a pretty introverted person, so that down time to stay balanced and energized is pretty vital to me even as part of a team.
Can it be challenging to achieve that vital balance given the degree of focus and dedication required for your sport?
I’ve been an athlete for so long that I just identify as one. But it’s just as important to step back from that a little bit. I’m much more than an athlete and my father reminds me to hold onto that broader perspective. Honestly, I’d love to train and race every second of the day, but that’s just not good for longevity or even high performance. Singular obsessiveness has proven itself to be an unhealthy way to go.
When athletes retire, many of them get lost. I’ve learned wholeheartedly that balance is really what allows me to perform at a high level. The best performers I’ve seen seem to be some of the most balanced people. They attack training so hard because they also know how to step away. When I take healthy breaks and days off, I’m that much more excited to get back in the gym or on the ice and do it again.
Is sustaining high-performance in bobsledding challenging at such an elite level?
This is such a high-performance environment for everyone. There’s the mental side, but those tangible numbers matter as well. There are daily—even hourly—goals to chase to achieve personal bests. We see training percentage points go up or down with lots of seconds, numbers, and data. In four-man, I’ve noticed successful teams are often the ones who’ve been together for a long time. Measurement, metrics, input, output. Being the best is about math and the longer you ride with your team the better.
Have you noticed any differences in the U.S. approach to training versus other countries?
There are differences. Germany is a great example. Their bobsledding program contracts each pilot to a four-man team with their own personal coaches. So collectively they’re Team Germany, but each of their sleds is more autonomous in that way. With Team USA, we have a large pool of athletes with the coaches making decisions about who’s on what sled, naming the team just one month before the Games. I think there are benefits and costs either way. On the one hand, our system gives everybody a fair shake to make the team and ensure we have the best athletes representing our country. On the other, there can be a real benefit to having that long-term cohesiveness. Some of the best teams in the world and the best teams historically are ones that have been together for years..
Most likely Hunter Church will be in the pilot saddle?
Hunter Church is one of the best pilots in the world and he deserves to go into turn one with a fighting chance. It’s my job to give him an extremely competitive push. He’s not only my teammate but my friend, and I want him to do well because he deserves it. Same goes for my other teammates. We’re all pulling and pushing for each other. That’s something our coaches talk about often. A lot of them are former Olympic medalists and they talk about when you get on that line, when it’s just you and those three other guys, they’re who you want to push for and win it for. Those are the people who know how hard we’ve all worked to get there and we’re the only people who can do it at that moment—together.
Who would you say are your top competitors this year?
Germany is consistently dominant. Latvia is very good. Canada has been great recently. Russia and Switzerland are always good, too.
Sounds like it’s anyone’s game.
Whoever’s the fastest in China during those two days of racing in February are the medalists. No matter how good you’ve been the rest of your career, that’s racing. That’s part of why I love it. I’ve played lacrosse and football and a lot of team sports, and those are long games. There’s a lot of giving and taking in those sports. In racing, it’s just us against that clock.
How far is the sprint at the beginning of the race?
It’s 60 meters. When the time actually starts, it’s 15 meters away from the block, so it’s what we like to call a “fly-in.” I weigh about 228 pounds. My teammates are generally anywhere from 210 to 235. It’s a bit of a push. You got guys squatting 500-plus pounds. You gotta be pretty tall to carry that weight as well, so you’re looking at six foot-plus for most guys, 220-plus pounds, fast, and powerful.
Fans can’t get a real sense of how many Gs you’re pulling down on those turns because the camera is moving with you. Can you describe for the rest of us what it all feels like?
It’s a rush like no other. The race looks very smooth, but we’re rattling the whole way down at over 90 miles per hour. The sound is deafening coming down the ice with over 1,000 pounds—like the roar of a freight train—while our pilot is navigating the gravity and forces of the turns. If you try to fight at the end of a turn to get off of it or build pressure, the track is gonna spit you out at the end. You don’t know where you’re at. You’re hitting walls while your helmet’s hitting the sides of the sled and you’re dancing with those millimeters. You’re in control while also being out of control. That’s the best way I can describe it.
What are you thinking while your head is tucked down during the race and you’re trusting your pilot at that speed?
Mainly about optimal body position, which we memorize. This summer we went to the wind tunnel down in North Carolina, sat in the sled, and found the most aerodynamic position with the least amount of drag. For example, I’m tight in this part of my abdomen and my hands are positioned a certain way. I memorize all that, then I try to hold that position as well as I can going down the track while also moving with the sled. I wanna feel like I’m one with the sled—not like I’m slapping my head left when we need to go right because any little force or energy going in a different direction can really change the ride. Again, we’re talking hundredths of a second and inches. There’s no better feeling in the world than seeing your teammates giving you the number one finger at the end of the run.
Do pilots like Hunter Church and Cody Bascue have a different psychology or different attitude than the other athletes in bobsledding? Are they like quarterbacks or volleyball setters with a very unique kind of leadership mentality?
It’s a unique leadership role. The pilot is pushing too, so you need him to be a great athlete. But then he’s gotta get in and go to complete zen, like a race car driver. I’m thinking the same thing in the back, but I’m not the one driving. Cody and Hunter have both have been driving since they were kids. It’s now just in their blood.
What have been the most important ways you’ve overcome adversity? Any sage advice for future Olympic bobsledders?
I think you have to be accountable to yourself—and also to others. I love what I do. I love training and racing, but the relationships and friendships I’ve built are the only reason I am where I am at this moment. There’s this big misconception that being a man is about going it alone and the need to bury your feelings. We hear a lot about “being tough.” That’s just so backwards. The only times I’ve done anything remarkable in my life have been because people, friends, teammates, coaches, and family members have helped me get there or figure something out. My achievements are all a byproduct of so many people investing in me. That’s a huge driving force. There are things you definitely have to do for yourself, but nothing worth doing is achieved alone. So my advice is to lean into your friends and ask for help when you need it. It’s okay to not be okay sometimes. I’m the one racing. I’m the one who shows up and does the work, but I’m also mature and humble enough to know I didn’t do any of this by myself.
Who are the most important mentors or influencers in your life?
My grandfather (mother’s father). He was a great athlete. He’s taught me so many valuable lessons about sport and life. My father. I’ve watched the way he’s lived, the way he operates, and the way he works—and I can see myself in him a lot. My dad also always reminds me to not be so hard on myself—keeps that perspective and balance. “If you were to stop bobsledding tomorrow,” he tells me, “there’s so much more to you than the sport—and there’s so much more to you than any sport you’ve ever done.” That’s a great reminder.
Quick speed round?
Bring it.
Favorite band?
I love Outkast, ACDC, Red Hot Chili Peppers, The Eagles, The Allman Brothers, Fleetwood Mac, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Tom Petty.
Favorite food while training?
We were joking today that the cafeteria here is giving us our last meal for lunch today. We’re having steak, Texas Toast, and peanut butter cookies as a sendoff. That’s some serious American diesel food before heading over to Europe.
Favorite Olympic sport besides bobsledding?
Track and field and weightlifting are huge for me. There are some incredible athletes who do raw speed, power, jumping, and strength. It’s so pure to me—just this beautiful expression of raw ability.
Welcome to Do It Right, a new series where we cover essential skills that everyone should know. From staying fit to caring for your gear and beyond, each Do It Right post calls on expert advice to help you learn something new across a wide range of topics.
The Skill: How to Deadlift
Deadlifting is the simple act of standing up while holding a lot of weight. It’s a relatively simple exercise, but doing it correctly requires proper technique, and many people mess it up. The step-by-step guide below will ensure you’re on the right track. For clarity’s sake, we’re going to handle the conventional barbell deadlift—the most commonly used version of the lift—and not any of its counterpart movements.
The Expert
Lee Boyce, Toronto-based strength coach, speaker, owner of Lee Boyce Training Systems, college professor, and internationally published fitness writer. Despite having undergone reconstructive surgery to both knees just a few years ago, I can deadlift over 500 pounds, so I know a thing or two about how to get strong and avoid injuries—especially with this movement.
What You Need
A barbell, weight plates to load onto it, some empty floor space, and good old fashioned gusto.
Load the barbell to your desired weight. It’s best to start light, and make sure to take note of the size of the weight plates you’re using. You want the bar to rest about nine inches off the ground (by using standard plates about 18 inches in diameter). Olympic bumper plates are all this size, regardless of the weight of the plate. Iron plates, on the other hand, often get smaller as they get lighter. If you’re using smaller plates, the height of the bar will be closer to the ground, meaning you’ll have to bend over further to pick the weight up. That could be risky. Instead, mount the bar on a slightly elevated surface so the height matches the standard Olympic plate height.
Step right up. First, find your foot placement relative to the bar. Place your feet hip-width apart, and close enough that your shins almost touch the bar—an inch of space between shin and bar is ideal. When you look directly down at the bar, it should divide your foot roughly in half, right over your shoelaces.
Get a grip. The next step is to make fists on the bar. (Don’t worry about your back or the rest of your body just yet.) Keep your feet planted, reach down, and place your hands on the bar just outside your shins using a double overhand grip. Let your back round. You should feel a nice stretch in your hamstrings.
Get uncomfortable. This sounds counterintuitive, but hear me out. Squeeze your body into a flat-back position by sticking your butt out and pushing your chest up high, all while holding the bar while it rests on the floor. To help get into this position, pinch your armpits back and drive your knees out against your forearms as you try to raise your chest. If done correctly, you’ll have your upper chest positioned over the bar, and the top of your head, your back, and your butt will form a straight line. Remember to tuck your chin in; your eyes should stay focused on a spot just in front of the bar. All this tension you’ve created shouldn’t feel relaxed—and that’s a good thing.
Dig in and bend the bar. When deadlifting, you shouldn’t rely on your arms or lower back exclusively to move the weight. That’s why it’s important to squeeze every last ounce of flex out of the bar before lifting it. That’ll ensure you keep your elbows straight and lift with your body, not your hands. It also avoids any jerky, spastic motions that can throw off your technique. Before lifting, keep the bar close to your shins and try to pull it up with both hands, as if you wanted to bend the bar ends upward to the ceiling.
Stand up. Now’s the time to trust your technique. Stay tight, keep your core engaged, and lift. Make sure the bar stays no more than an inch away from your body. Drive with your legs, squeezing your glutes, until you’re standing up tall. You don’t have to lean back. As long as you squeeze the glutes the whole way up, you’ll know when you can’t get any taller. Once you’re up, hold still with a proud chest and tight butt for one full second.
The dismount. Now it’s time to reverse the steps to return the starting position. First, drop the hips back. Pretend you’re aiming for your butt to touch a wall behind you, and keep your back flat as you go down. While doing this, let the bar drag down your thighs in a smooth, controlled motion. Once the bar crosses knee level, it’s okay to emphasize a “sit down” pattern, and let the weight return to the floor. Once the bar passes your knees, it’s also okay to lower it a bit faster.
Repeat. Now that the weight is back on the floor, take a second before you grip and rip another repetition. Reset yourself, and repeat everything from step four onward. Don’t skip this step—it’s important to give yourself a chance to get tight before each rep. It may feel unimportant if you’re lifting an empty bar, but once you tack on more weight, every last bit of tightness becomes invaluable.
If you’re more of a learn-by-seeing kind of person, then check out the video tutorial below, which breaks down all the steps visually.
With practice, you’ll master deadlifting and get the most out of this incredibly important movement. The deadlift targets the entire posterior chain, or the muscles on the back side of the body (primarily the gutes, hamstrings, and lower back). It offers serious strength and muscle-building benefits, and when done correctly, it’s one of the most joint-friendly exercises you can do. Take the time to learn the proper form now, and you’ll reap the rewards for a lifetime.
You’re unmoved by Joe Rogan’s pledges to “try harder,” or maybe just ready to try something new. Either way, you’ll want to hang onto your curated lists.
Sony’s deal for Bungie caps what’s been a huge month for gaming acquisitions. | Photo by STR/NurPhoto via Getty Images
Sony just announced its intent to acquire Destiny maker Bungie for $3.6 billion, capping what’s been an absolutely massive month for gaming acquisitions. Take-Two kicked things off with its deal to buy Zynga for $12.7 billion, which at the time may have counted as the biggest deal in the video game industry, but Microsoft significantly one-upped that just a week later with its $68.7 billion deal to buy Activision Blizzard. The total value of all three acquisitions, assuming they all go through, is a staggering $85 billion.
With Bungie, Sony will house the talent behind the hugely popular Destiny 2, and it seems likely the company will use Bungie’s expertise to help create similarly expansive and long-running live service titles. Sony is…
Success. What does that word mean when you’re an elite 21-year-old athlete and neuroscience major? Long-track Team USA speed skater Conor McDermott-Mostowy has a few thoughts about personal goals, becoming a well-balanced man, and what it means to represent the United States in the 2022 Olympics. He also has his own definition of success—and it’s not what you’d think.
For those of us who remember Eric and Beth Heiden, they truly introduced the U.S. to the sport. The Wisconsin-born siblings excelled in speed skating, cross-country skiing, tennis, soccer, and cycling back in the day when athletes didn’t specialize in one sport from a young age. Beth was a speed skating bronze medalist at the 1980 Lake Placid Winter Olympics and Eric won five speed skating gold medals. Their Upper Midwest, All-American smiles were on Wheaties boxes, the cover of TIME, and in our living rooms.
Short-track speed skating only made its Olympic debut at the 1992 Winter Olympic Games. In South Korea, China, the Netherlands, and Norway, skating is extremely popular, but speed skating in the U.S. remains less so. In 2002, Nathaniel Mills, the three-time Olympian in long-track speed skating, helped start a beginner speed skating program at Fort Dupont Ice Arena in Washington, D.C.—a mecca for small skating clubs producing world-class speed skaters. Why The Beltway and not Salt Lake, Park City or Duluth? Coaching is the key. Years ago, Korean parents in the area started recruiting coaches directly from South Korea’s talent pool, organizing their visas and paying their salaries. That pipeline of talent has flowed and flourished. Now, three extremely competitive skating clubs stand out: Dominion, Potomac Speed skating and United Capital Blades.
McDermott-Mostowy discussed the rise of speed skating in the United States and why this sport gripped him so young.
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Men’s Journal: How is training going?
Conor McDermott-Mostowy: I’ve taken a year off from college and that has allowed me to train full time. I’ll be going into my junior year after The Games.
I’m eyeing the 1000m, 1500m, Mass Start, and Team Pursuit events.
What skaters or athletes did you look up to when you were a kid—and who was your biggest influence as an athlete, coach, and/or mentor?
I definitely looked up to Shani Davis from a young age, and as I got older I came to have great respect for Heather Richardson Bergsma and Brittney Bowe because of their poise and humility despite both being powerhouses in skating. I’m so grateful to have the opportunity to train with Brittney now and call her my friend as well as teammate. I’m also extremely excited to watch Gus Kenworthy ski.
When I was transitioning from short-track to long-track, one of the best experiences I had as a kid was watching Shani Davis. He made short-track in 2002 and by 2006 he was skating long-track—winning silver and gold in 2006 and 2010. I met him once and he was just so incredible. Meeting him was an awesome, indelible experience for me. He’s a great example of focus, technical execution, and kindness off the ice.
A word about your coaches? For non-athletes, it can be difficult to understand the athlete-coach relationship at the highest levels of sport.
My first coach was Nathaniel Mills—a 3-time Olympian [‘92, ‘94, ‘98] for Team USA in long-track. My first coach in Utah was Mitchell Whitmore, who’s also a 3-time Olympian (‘10, ‘14, ‘18) for Team USA in long-track. My current coach is Ryan Shimabukuro, our long-track National Team USA Sprint Coach.
I worked with my short-track coach [Hyun Jung Lee, a standout Korean Olympian in 1988] for eight years and we had conversations about how our training together fundamentally changed the way she coaches. She grew up among the Washington, D.C., community of speed skaters that implemented a very strict method of training. At the end of our tenure together, Coach Hyun Jung Lee, said to me, “You are as strong as I can make you. There’s nothing more I can teach you.” It was time for me to transition away. We both knew it was time.
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Unlike some athletes, you weren’t a prodigy or a standout from the beginning. Can that pay dividends in the long run?
Yeah, thankfully my parents prevented me from burning out early. There’s a deep tradition of speed skating in D.C. because of the Korean community. They’re the technical gold standard of the sport. Coach Lee told me that when she was younger, skating was the singular focus and everything else was sacrificed. She expressed that she was interested in making me a less singularly focused athlete and more of a well-rounded person—taking what she herself had learned and imparting that cautionary wisdom on me. I have my parents to thank for my long-haul focus psychology. They don’t let me get singularly obsessed, and I’m grateful for that too. I’ve definitely had a lot more failure than I’ve had success in my life. I wasn’t a prodigy, so I accepted failure and moved on.
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What’s the biggest lesson you’ve learned from failure and success as an athlete?
A poor result is only a failure if you don’t learn from it. I lost a lot when I was younger, and I think all that losing contributed to my success now. I never got comfortable with where I was and learned from every race I lost.
Are you a perfectionist?
Yeah, I am. I’m very technically-focused. The best skaters are flawless in every move they make. Part of what I love about skating at this level is that you can’t hide behind anything.
We have a saying in skating: Practice doesn’t make perfect. Perfect practice makes perfect. I show up 100 percent every day to skate. When I made the first World Team two years ago, it was the most excited I’ve ever felt about skating. My coach instilled so much confidence in me, so going from short-track to long-track was a thrill.
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What the greatest benefits and challenges of being an elite athlete?
Being a professional athlete can be the best and worst job ever. It’s an incredible opportunity waking up every day and going into work to do what I love. I get to travel the world. I have access to amazing support staff that monitor my nutrition, give me massages, and just keep me in the best shape I can be both physically and mentally.
Where the fantastical illusion of being a professional athlete starts to crumble is when you look at the financial side of the sport and the lack of “job security.” Speed skating is not like basketball or football where professional athletes are all paid handsomely. The stories of Olympic athletes like Michael Phelps or Simone Biles who cash in from their athletic success are the exception, not the rule. How much I get paid, and even if I have access to healthcare, is dependent upon my results each year. I’m fortunate enough to have an amazing sponsor that helps pay for what I do and makes it all possible—but if I didn’t, I wouldn’t make half of what I need to survive.
In most of the countries we compete with, Olympic programs are government-funded. Their athletes are at least paid enough to live. That’s not the case with Team USA. I don’t think most people understand how prohibitively expensive training to be an Olympian is.
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How are you preparing mentally and physically?
The average training day consists of two workouts with a break in the middle for lunch. We usually skate in the morning, then have off-ice training, weights, or a bike ride in the afternoon. Recovery is almost as important as training. You need to be rested and recovered in order to perform your best every day. As a national team athlete, I have access to athletic trainers to treat acute injuries and perform recovery massages. I also have access to myriad recovery tools from hot/cold baths to compression sleeves for my legs that use pressurized air pockets to increase circulation and flush lactic acid.
How does diet factor in?
I don’t believe that you have to have a strict diet as an athlete as long as you’re conscious of what you’re putting in your body. At U.S. Speed Skating we have a great nutritionist who helps us navigate what we eat, and she agrees there isn’t a singular diet that fits all athletes. Simply cutting out all sugars and fats isn’t healthy or necessary, but I do try to just be mindful of what I eat.
In all athletics, there’s a huge mental game happening alongside the physical one. How do you view the mind/body connection?
I’ve spent a lot of time in the last few years thinking about that. If you’ve ever been through a rough breakup or had a loved one die, you know how powerful the mind is and how it can affect your physical wellbeing. The ability to overcome the messages your brain is sending is key to becoming a better athlete. I’m someone who used to not eat or not eat enough on race day because my nerves would make me so nauseous. It took a lot of work and experimentation to be able to overcome that urge not to eat, but being able to properly fuel your body, even when you don’t want to, is a skill all athletes must learn.
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How would you describe your mindset right now?
I get a little solitary before competition these days. When I was younger, and not as mentally strong, I’d become withdrawn, serious, and sort of scary. Honestly, I try not to think of goals like winning a medal. Instead, I focus on technical aspects of the sport.
What message would you send to young men out there who have a goal and dream—athletic or not?
I think the saying, “If you dream it, you can achieve it” is completely true. Achieving a dream is not as easy as that saying makes it seem, but I believe the spirit of the saying to be fundamentally true. Most lofty goals can be achieved if you are willing to put in the time and effort. Malcolm Gladwell popularized the idea that to become an expert in something, you have to put at least 10,000 hours into it. While I don’t subscribe to any philosophy that sets hard rules, I’d agree with his assertion that natural talent really only separates people who have put in the same amount of time in the pursuit of a goal. If you’re willing to put in more time and effort than someone who appears to be more naturally gifted than you, you can surpass them.
Your take on the “Just shut up and dribble” era of asking athletes to remain apolitical in the public domain?
I find that extremely offensive, objectifying, and insulting. Who we are outside of the ring matters. Being vocal is not for everybody, but it’s something I feel strongly about. I use my platform and voice to support positive change.
How do you define success?
I was walking by some graffiti a while back that had the word “success” painted on the wall. Success is always a moving target. For me, I always first ask: Does my success come at a cost to others? It’s a great motto to live by so I had the word tattooed on my arm. My mother and grandmother were floored.
The tattoo is a reminder for me. It means that I know I’m here. It reminds me to be satisfied. If I don’t medal, I can do plenty of things after that. I need to take inventory often and be happy just working toward this goal. It’s an ongoing process. Plus I have other ambitions so speed skating will not be the zenith of my life. I plan to go for more Olympics in 2026, then move on to other life goals. I’ll walk away with my head up no matter what. That’s the thing about success: It’s not about the crowds, the competition, or the outcome. I know it’s there.
