This year, only two female divers from Australia qualified for the Olympic 3m diving event. I was third. When the results came in, my dream came crashing down. Fifteen years of hard work, seemingly for nothing. And my dream—to represent Australia at the Olympic Games for the first time—was gone in a second.
Having failed, I joined the club that no athlete wants to join: the club of “almost Olympians.” We all share the same journey: We ve trained so hard and made sacrifices, but came so close to securing our ticket to the Games. The feeling nestles deep in your chest and stays with you all the time.
The diving board
I started diving at the age of nine, after watching Mathew Mitcham and Melissa Wu win medals for Australia at the 2008 Beijing Games. I was determined to become the next big star on the springboard. I quickly tried out, plunging headfirst into a new life as part of an elite national team for junior athletes. I worked 30 hours a week. In the mornings, I got up at 4:30 a.m. No more parties or dates. My adolescence, organized around exhausting training sessions, smelled of chlorine.
While my determination drove me forward, I quickly realized that I was not alone in this adventure. The immense sacrifices that come with top-level sports are only possible thanks to a powerful support network. Over the past 15 years, my family has sacrificed a lot. Our finances, but also our emotional reserves, have been put to the test, all of which have disrupted the normal course of our family life. All for my Olympic dream. A dream that—let s face it—remains intact today.
The Olympic dream
That s how dreams work: they shape your life, even if they are eventually shattered. Those years of dedication and sacrifice didn t just evaporate when I learned I d failed; they wove the fabric of my identity, making me stronger, more resilient, and ready to face what came next.
Being eliminated from the Olympics is of course an invitation to question myself. I had already flirted with the idea of retiring just after winning gold at the 2018 Commonwealth Games with my teammate, Esther Qin. After reaching such heights, I felt a big slump. Any young athlete who has been competing at a high level for more than a decade knows this feeling: exhaustion. It s almost inevitable.
This exhaustion is not only physical; it s also emotional and mental, too. Chasing your dream is grueling, and that struggle isn t unique to athletes, of course. It s a universal experience. We all face moments when our passion becomes a burden and what we love most becomes our greatest source of stress. Whether it s a demanding job, a challenging project, or even our day-to-day balance, we ve all had occasion to feel overwhelmed and wonder whether we re capable of carrying on.
Retirement
After the 2018 Commonwealth Games, I decided to take an 18-month break to discover who I was outside diving. It was so scary but necessary. What kind of athlete did I want to become if I decided to get back on the diving board? Did I really want to go back? I had an epiphany at dinner one Saturday night with my closest friends. One of them pulled me aside and asked me if I intended to dive again. Her frankness struck a chord, even though the subject was taboo at the time. Many people around me avoided it. She said, “Try it again. You may not realize it now, but you still have the chance to continue. But if you do, make sure you re doing it for yourself, and not for anyone else.” Her words resonated with the feeling that had been slowly building up inside me for weeks: I was ready to try again.
At the end of 2021, I was back on the diving board, with the 2024 Olympic Games in my sights. I came back with a new sense of purpose and a better understanding of myself. I was convinced that things were going to change. I believed in my potential and trained with insane intensity for three and a half years. Looking back, I can confirm that I put all my energy into this adventure. And I m proud of it.
However, despite unwavering dedication, an athlete s journey is never simple. A missed routine, an unfortunate injury... A lot of little things can derail years of sacrifice. In my case, 0.5 points were missing. This figure is so small as to be almost laughable, yet it s the chasm that separates me from the Olympic Games.
Today, I m once again faced with a dilemma: whether to retire or not. I m not alone in this decision. I can t help thinking of my fellow athletes who, like me, gave their all and failed to qualify. I want to leave not only proud of what I have achieved, but also of the person I have become.
To those who continue their Olympic quest, they have my utmost respect. You have to be emotionally strong to stay motivated when you feel your potential remains untapped and within reach.
For me, as I contemplate my future in diving, a spark of determination takes hold of me and suggests that I m not ready to give up just yet. To my fellow athletes who are still chasing their dreams: know that I see you. You are not alone. In these difficult times, I find great comfort in knowing that I m part of a community of full-time dreaming athletes, united by the love of sport.