From Childhood Dreams to Olympic Quarantine: My Story
There was a young girl from Australia who fell in love with skiing at eight years old. That girl was me. I was lucky enough to start skiing at five, but it was a trip to Japan with my dad that lit a fire in me. Ski racing was pure joy. I wanted more of it.
Soon after, my mum put her life on pause so I could chase this dream. We moved to Mt Buller, Australia during the winters, and I started to win races, even though I was much smaller than the others. There was one race I still remember, I was so sick, but nothing could stop me from getting out there. I was determined to improve every day, rain or shine.
Eventually, I started competing internationally. When I placed 3rd at the US Junior Olympics as a U16, I realized I had potential. I was a small fish from a small ski nation, going head-to-head with Americans who skied far more than I did. How was this possible? The belief started growing.
Back in Melbourne, though, things were harder. At school, I didn’t fit in. No one understood my life on the mountain. I felt left out, constantly questioning where I belonged. That feeling stuck with me for a long time. Was it my true self? Or was it ego?
Eventually, my parents gave me a choice: stop skiing or move to a ski academy in the U.S. I didn’t hesitate. I moved and finally found my people. I found friendship, growth, competition, and academics. This is when I quietly decided I wanted to go to the Olympics. A dream I kept close because I also knew it was my parents' dream. The pressure scared me.
I worked my way onto the Utah Ski Team as a walk-on. I was the worst on the team at first. But slowly, I proved to myself I could keep up. For three years, I lived the best version of myself. I became team captain, pushed my limits, and truly enjoyed the journey.
Then came the Olympic season in 2022.
On the outside, I acted like I didn’t care, but on the inside, I was terrified. The dream was too big to admit. I told myself that qualifying wouldn’t be that impressive because I was from Australia, maybe to protect myself in case I failed to make the team. But I didn’t. I achieved my best-ever result in the final week of qualification and secured a spot at the Olympics.
Just one problem, that same race, I contracted COVID.
I was terrified to tell anyone. My parents were too emotional and devastated for me to help. My oldest sister stepped up and helped me get through the overwhelming logistics and I thank and appreciate her help to this day. The story made the press. I tested on average 4 times a day, desperately hoping for a negative. I missed the chance to compete in my best event, Giant Slalom. Then, on the last possible day to make the Slalom, I got a negative test.
But wait, China required four consecutive days of negative tests from an approved facility. I would puke on the way to the tests but I managed it. I made it. I flew to Beijing.
But things only got worse.
When I landed, they tested me again at the airport. Something felt off when I was ushered onto a separate bus. I had no cellular data, no way to ask for help. Four hours later, I arrived at my village. Without a warm welcome, just a woman who kept her distance. I thought, did I test positive again?
I was told to go to my room and wait. Then a doctor came in: "You can probably guess what’s happened." My stomach dropped.
I tested positive.
The next 12 hours were a blur. The isolation, the panic, the unknown. I was tested by doctors throughout the whole night. At 5 a.m., I got a call saying one of my tests was negative. I had 30 minutes to get ready, drive to the correct village and race.
I cried the whole way there. Not even sure if they were happy or sad tears. Exhaustion took over. I couldn’t find my gear. I was surrounded by unfamiliar coaches. I inspected the course and raced, but I straddled and got disqualified.
In a weird way, I was relieved it was over. My family had gathered in Australia to watch me for five seconds on TV. I felt guilt. I felt like I let everyone down.
I asked if I could stay and experience the Olympics. They said no. I was a close contact and had to leave the next day. After 30+ hours of travel there, I flew straight back to the US to finish my exams.
I carried my Olympic experience as a weight on my shoulders for years, so here is what I can say now.
Lessons Learned (from me, now)
My 10-year-old self would be proud. Not because everything went perfectly, but because I kept going. Through heartbreak, disappointment, and chaos.
I learned to be proud of representing Australia. For a long time, I tried to downplay it. But now I know it’s something truly special, to come from a small ski nation and make it to the biggest stage and it is also more than allowed to take up space and feel proud.
Time heals. It took me nearly three years to fully process and accept what happened. You need patience and a whole lot of self-kindness.
The journey matters more than the destination. Okay, we have all heard this saying… but looking back, it wasn’t just about the Olympics, it was about everything I learned, overcame, and experienced along the way.
You can feel many emotions at once. Pressure, fear, joy, sadness, I felt these emotions all at once. It’s all real. And it’s all valid.
Being tough doesn’t mean going through it alone. My sister was my rock but looking back I should have allowed myself to ask for more help and support from those around me. In one of the images below I said “Today’s the day im giving up on myself, meeting with the psychologist for the first time.” I look back on those words and realize that you are not giving up on yourself by going to the psychologist. It takes a lot of strength and courage. So, lets reframe that to “Today’s the day I start taking care of myself”.
No one else will ever truly understand your experience. People will have opinions, but only you know your truth and what you went through.
I am worthy, regardless of results. My value isn’t tied to a race or a ranking. I am enough, just as I am.
I can get through really hard things. This wasn’t the fairytale ending I imagined, but I made it through something incredibly difficult, and that’s strength.
This story may have started with a little girl falling in love with skiing. But it continues with a woman who knows her strength doesn’t come from medals. It comes from resilience.
And that’s a lesson worth sharing.
Take a look at some raw images below!
