From the Road to the Track: My Journey as a Young Athlete and Why I’m Now a Mental Performance Coach

Growing up on a tiny island off the coast of Vancouver wasn’t exactly a traditional sports paradise. No fancy leagues, no organized teams—just me, my road, and a lot of time to kill. But hey, I had one thing going for me: an incredibly active family. We were always outside. Hiking, biking, playing sports in the backyard—you name it, we did it. And me? I was the competitive little monster always looking for the next challenge. I didn’t need a team or a coach. I just needed the road in front of me, my sneakers, and a fierce drive to run.

I wasn’t out there because I thought it was “good for me” or because I was trying to impress anyone. No, I ran because it felt right. I loved the rush. I loved the competition—even if I was competing with myself. So while the other kids had their team sports, I had my solo runs, up and down that same stretch of pavement. Who needs a coach when you can make your own rules, right?

By high school, I was winning races, making a name for myself, and feeling pretty good about it. But here’s where things went sideways: the nerves and pressure kicked in. I wasn’t prepared for how hard it would be to face my own mind. I could nail a race, but afterward, instead of celebrating, I’d be curled up in fear, dreading the next competition. I’d finish provincials in cross-country, have a solid performance, and instead of soaking in the win, all I could feel was relief that I had another year to go before doing it all over again. Talk about self-sabotage.

Basketball wasn’t much better. If I missed my first couple of shots, I’d mentally check out, convinced I was about to have a complete disaster of a game. If I made my shots? “Oh, that’s just a fluke,” I’d say to myself. I was my own worst enemy. I had all the talent in the world, but I couldn’t get out of my own head.

But guess what? Despite all my mental baggage, I ended up running on scholarship for the University of Washington in cross-country and track and field, I made the Canadian National Team seven times, and I set two national records. So yeah, I was good. But mentally? I was a mess. No one ever asked me what was going on in my head before a race. I had one coach tell me to smile at the starting line like it was some magic solution. Spoiler alert: it just made me angry.

Over the years, I tried to figure it out on my own. I journaled, I read books on mental toughness, and I tried to reframe my fear into gratitude for my competitors. But still, the mental battle wore me down. It was exhausting, draining, and honestly, I was just tired of it all. I loved running, but the mental exhaustion? That was a different story. So, I quietly stepped away. No fanfare, no dramatic exit—just a tired athlete ready to explore something new.

But here’s the beauty of it all: I don’t regret a thing. My running career taught me so much about perseverance, resilience, and how far I could push myself. But what I do wish is that someone had been there for me to say, “Hey, it’s normal to struggle with nerves. You don’t have to do this alone.” That’s why I became a Mental Performance Coach. I want to be that person for the young athlete who’s out there grinding, feeling like they’re the only one battling their own mind. Trust me, you’re not alone.

I’ve been there. I know exactly what it’s like to doubt yourself, to fear failure, and to feel like you’re carrying the weight of the world in your head before every race. But here’s the truth: mental strength isn’t about pretending those nerves don’t exist. It’s about acknowledging them and learning how to use them to your advantage.

So if you’re a young athlete, listen up: it’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to have those self-doubt gremlins whispering in your ear. The difference between success and failure isn’t whether you have doubts—it’s whether you let those doubts define you. And trust me, you don’t have to do this alone.

I’m here now, not just as a coach, but as someone who gets it. I’m the person who’s going to help you work through those nerves, silence that inner critic, and push you past the mental roadblocks that keep you from showing up as your best self.

Because I’ve been there. And I’m here to help.