My hometown, Kenora, Ontario isn’t close to much. NCAA scouts don’t go there. The closest town to compete against in over 90 minutes away; it’s remote to say the least.

On cool fall evenings, my dad would take me down to tour the course leading up to local cross-country meets, and in the spring he would drive me to the local track after school to practice my sprints. I remember the 800m feeling like an eternity, and loving the thrill of racing.

I was inspired by local decathlete Michael Smith, who attended my elementary school years before I arrived on the scene. Smith would go on to serve as Canada’s flag-bearer at the 1992 Olympic Summer Games in Barcelona. His story resonated with me.

When I was in high school, we didn’t have a proper athletics program, so I delved into other sports, like hockey. My parents bought me a book containing every single American University, and I researched the schools that had a women’s hockey program. With support from my parents and a local videographer, I sent (aka snail mailed) each one of the coaches a letter and highlight tape. We sent over 50 packages. I heard back from a handful of schools, including Yale. I decided on Union College, in upstate New York, where I would eventually go on to be captain of the hockey team.

A lot of support, sweat, money and genuine good luck went into getting me to Union. When my mom and dad dropped me off on my first day, it was my first day on campus – and my dream of attending an American school began to unfold. I was the only athlete on my team who had attended public school and not an elite private school. I didn’t realize how truly unorthodox my route to making the team was until many years later. It was what I knew – knock on and knock down doors to get to where you want to go.

There were over a dozen girls from my hometown who went on to play collegiate sport after this door was opened.

Finding My Balance

Grinduro by Lindsay Dwyer

Data in Triathlon by Thorsten Radde