As I crossed the finish line at the 2014 Paralympic Winter Games, I looked up at the scoreboard to see an 8th place finish, a solid gap between my time and a medal. Knowing it was a possibility wasn’t enough to prepare me for the reality of how it would feel or how to cope.
Chasing Ghosts
I still remember every sensation of that moment in Russia. Standing at the starting gate atop Rosa Khutor. The sun shining. Not a cloud in the sky. Feeling inexplicably cold despite the warmth. My mind foggy. No mantra in the world could calm the panic I felt in my body.
“Vetti,” they called, and seconds later I propelled forward, sliding over the slush that felt like quicksand beneath my board. Almost to the corner—then slipping. In a single second, I lost control, unable to stop the impact as my body crumbled underneath me. My muscles seized, then pushed me back to my feet. I forced myself to keep going even though I knew it was too late.
I had spent years preparing for this moment. Years imagining, preparing, and training. In less than two minutes, it fell apart.
The Weight of Expectations
Looking back now, I can see that I didn’t just fall on that course in Sochi. I collapsed under the weight of the expectations I’d placed on myself.
For months leading up to the Games, I had hyper-analyzed every detail and measured myself against standards I wasn’t prepared or even ready to meet. In my head, I had built the Paralympic Games into this monumental moment—a measure of my success, my ability, even the definition of who I was as a person.
I didn’t just want to compete. I wanted to be perfect.
And when perfection slipped away on that slushy course, I felt like I had failed at the very thing I had rebuilt my life around.
When Your Accomplishments Define You
All of us have moments when our accomplishments define us. I was a speaker, a snowboarder, a medalist. But what happens when those labels are threatened? When we don’t achieve our goal?
I became vulnerable to my own judgment. And that judgment spiraled out of control.
After Sochi, my self-judgment made me question my goals and my ability to achieve them. Unchecked, it shattered my self-confidence, leading me to question every aspect of my life. I felt angry because I wasn’t receiving the same recognition and opportunities as my peers.
I blamed everything I couldn’t control: the weather, the quicksand-like snow, even the media. Anything but accept that it wasn’t enough, and I wasn’t ready—not as an athlete, and certainly not in life.
Another Way
At the World Championships in La Molina, Spain, I had experienced the kind of day you dream about as an athlete. I was riding well, and everything came together in the right moments. I won a bronze medal that day—one of the most important medals of my career because it was the first time I felt validation as an athlete.
But the difference wasn’t in my performance. It was in my mindset.
In Spain, I wasn’t chasing perfect or comparing myself to other athletes. I was simply present, enjoying the ride and appreciating the moments in between. I wasn’t thinking about expectations.
Learning to Let Go
After the Games, I realized I had to reframe how I defined myself and my success.
Elite sports require everything you have—physically, mentally, and emotionally. As athletes, we strive for greatness and in the process sacrifice our life through years of dedication and discipline. But when “perfect” becomes the only acceptable outcome, we set ourselves up for disappointment.
The truth is, no amount of preparation can control every variable. Sometimes the snow turns to slush. Sometimes your body doesn’t cooperate. Sometimes, despite your best efforts, you finish 8th instead of on the podium.
And that has to be okay.
Carving My Own Path
In 2016, at the end of the season, I took the overall gold in women’s boardercross. It’s an honor to know that it didn’t come easy.
But the medal itself isn’t what I value most from that season. What I cherish is that I competed differently. I rode for myself, not for some imagined ideal of perfection. I embraced the quirks that make me who I am. I stopped comparing my journey to anyone else’s.
I learned that my accomplishments do not define me. I am a woman who is stronger than she knows. I am honest, forgiving, stubborn at times, but a hard worker. I appreciate change. I get anxious over the logistics. Like you, I have insecurities, but I have learned not to worry what others think.
I have been broken, and I have been humbled. Yet I am stronger.
For Those Still Chasing Perfect
If you’re reading this while in the grip of perfectionism—whether in sports, career, parenting, or relationships—I want you to know something: perfect is an illusion that keeps moving the finish line.
What if, instead of chasing perfect, you embraced being present? What if you let go of how your journey “should” look and started appreciating it for what it is?
Your story will continue to unfold in its own time. It will be different from those before you and those after you. But your journey is only yours to take.
Isn’t it about time to own your journey, to write your story, and carve your own path?
Nicole Roundy is a Paralympic snowboarder, speaker, and founder of The Phule Project. This post is part of an ongoing series exploring resilience, adaptation, and redefining possibilities.
