Failing on the Biggest Stage: My Olympic Story

I left the track in shock, asking myself, “What did I do wrong? Is this really how the story ends?”

I had just competed in the qualifying rounds of the women's triple jump at the Tokyo Olympics. The auto-qualifying mark wasn’t one that I couldn’t have easily done any other year, yet on this day, I was far from it.

No one pursues a dream for a decade and expects to fall short. No one continues to push through adversity, challenge after challenge, entertaining the possibility of losing. Especially when their performance is so far below their capabilities.

After the competition, I walked past the media stations without being asked to stop, save for one woman at the very end of my long walk through the empty stadium corridors.

“Tori? Tori?” She beckoned.

I found her, surprised to hear anyone calling my name.

“Can you stop for an interview?”

I paused for just a moment, then shook my head no and continued to walk. What would I say, besides spewing all of my self-deprecating post-competition thoughts? Thoughts that would not be from my highest self.

“Oh hi! Yeah, today didn’t go my way. My legs felt heavy, and I couldn’t get to top speed. I’m angry. Angry that I only got to Tokyo 5 days ago, when every other country in the world had an extra week to adapt to the time change. Angry that I may have walked too much, and had to be out too late, on what was supposed to be my day off. Angry that I didn’t get enough direction during the competition. I’m angry and I’m embarrassed. I feel like I wasted everyone’s time. I feel like I can’t call myself an Olympian because I didn’t even make the final, and I don’t want the OLY after my name as a consolation prize. I feel a lot like the shitty side of my dusty ass, crusty ass shoe….thanks for the interview.”

I spent the next day lying in a cardboard bed, eating 6-day old cake that I’d saved, watching less-than-stellar Netflix originals. I cried off and on and refused to leave my room to get any real food. I hated the idea of facing people, seeing the pity in their eyes, and listening to their attempts at encouragement when I didn’t want to be…