I am a strong and athletic woman, which for some reason gives people the right to cast stereotypical judgements as I walk down the street. They don’t know me, what I do or how hard I work. I am world-class. I am an Olympian. To see that as arrogance would be a misjudgment. I am just resilient, hard working, respectful and damn right driven.
Having played hockey for England and Great Britain since the age of 19, I am now 31 and preparing for my second Olympic Games in Rio next year. Playing hockey is my full-time occupation. In 2009 hockey received funding from UK Sport and in 2011 Investec began sponsoring women’s hockey from grass roots through to the GB team. The funding supported 31 female players full-time in the buildup to London 2012.
When the announcement of a full‑time programme was made, I was 24, a qualified doctor in exercise physiology and gearing up for a life in academia. In the same week that I was applying for my first lecturing job, the Great Britain coach called offering a contract to join the newly formed full-time Great Britain programme. There was no decision to be made. This would be the only opportunity to see if I was good enough to be part of a team that would challenge for Olympic glory. You just can’t walk away from that.
Looking back to try to figure out how on I have got to this point in my life, I would probably admit I’m not very normal. Quiet and unassuming as a child, nothing special or out of the ordinary, but I had a drive and steely determination to achieve. I didn’t fit into any of the typical groups in the playground – the cool gang, the geeks, or the rebels. I just wanted to play sport and play it better every day.
Hockey wasn’t my first love, football was but girls weren’t allowed to play at my school. At 14, my PE teacher encouraged me to join a hockey club – a place where I fitted in. In a sports team, judgments move away from how popular you are and what you look like to how hard you are willing to work and how much you contribute. This was my “gang” and a supportive environment to help develop confidence and self-worth.
I sometimes wonder what might have been had I taken the lecturing job. I suspect my parents think the same. However, sport is like a drug, conjuring emotions few surely experience during their day job. I have been to some dark places but am mentally strong. I have to be. But the highs are incredible and live long after the moment has gone. I have shared some experiences like no other, and even now, they bring a tear of joy to my eye as I recall them.
In 2012, sitting in the changing room before the bronze medal match waiting for the coach to come in and deliver his final team talk, I looked around the room and into the eyes of my team-mates. Days, weeks, months, years of hard work reflected back. It is impossible to articulate how incredible that moment was – absolute, unwavering respect and faith in one another. We would have beaten any team that day. At that moment I knew we would go and win Olympic bronze that day. That moment drives me forward. I hope one day to find another team that makes me feel like that again. I fear it may never come in the day job that awaits upon retirement.
Life in elite sport is brutal. Every day we are judged on our performances. Everyday, someone is trying to get selected ahead of you. My body hurts in the morning. There are times when I am so tired, I can’t even follow the plot line of EastEnders. We don’t get days off, we miss family weddings, holidays and graduations.
A large part of life is on hold. But who really wants to be normal? Sure, I’m well behind on the accumulation of partners I’ve had over the years, my LinkedIn page has significant gaps in the employment section, my Facebook profile is not filled with pictures of my children.
All I want is to be the best in the world at what I do. I want to be able to say I helped inspire women and girls to play sport, be confident and be the best they can be because it is that which makes life truly fulfilling. There is always more than one way to live your life. I choose this way.
