I Was Shocked When My Daughter Wanted To Compete In The Olympics. What Happened Next Was Even More Stunning.

Yahoo

24-05-2025

My daughter had worked only months at a Big Four accounting firm when she said, 'Mom, I want to cut my hours and go part-time, so I can work out more. What do you think?'
Gwen had a passion for swimming and running — she had been a University of Wisconsin athlete in both — but after graduation, she settled into a job preparing corporate taxes.
I knew a USA Triathlon recruiter had called, and the word 'Olympics' got tossed around, but Gwen had abandoned college swimming on the advice of her coach and given up a dream of running professionally when her times weren't fast enough. She'd only recently gotten a road bike. How could professional triathlon be a serious pursuit?
'I've been improving every race,' she said, 'and USA Triathlon wants a commitment.'
When my daughters were young, I believed sports and music would build confidence, provide a solid group of friends and teach discipline. So, I spent three-day weekends inside natatoriums, fall afternoons on cross-country courses, Tuesday nights at violin lessons, and Friday evenings in the basketball bleachers.
But my assumption — both silent and spoken — was that my daughters would go to college, earn a degree and work in their chosen fields. 'Professional athlete' never made my list of possible occupations for them.
If Gwen took up triathlon, I would have to accept uncertainty and risk. Could she support herself? Would she be safe training on the roads? What would happen if she injured herself? Was she prepared to travel the country, and maybe the world? What about the emotional stakes?
Still, I knew my daughter. She would have considered investments in time, money and training. She would have considered possible rewards. She wanted to explore her potential, and I raised her to be independent and go after what she wanted.
'You're only 23 once,' I said. 'In 10 years, it will be too late to start an athletic career.'
Then I offered to help.
'Absolutely not!' Gwen said. 'I won't do this if my parents have to fund me.'
Instead, she worked remotely while traveling to competitions, searched for sponsors, and made the most of what USA Triathlon could offer — coaching and paying for her travel expenses and entry fees. And I, after thinking that competitions were a thing of the past, once again trekked the country to watch her compete.
One year later, USA Triathlon scheduled Gwen's first top-level race in Europe.
'Mom, Dad, do you wanna to go to London with me? But you can't expect too much,' she cautioned. 'It's just for experience. I'm ranked the lowest on USA's roster.'
I was strapped for cash after paying Gwen's tuition, but I had never been to Europe. Maybe it was time I took a few risks, too. I booked a flight for my husband and me.
I landed in London knowing races are unpredictable, that athletes get beat up in open water, crash on their bikes or bonk on the run. I tried to prepare myself for any scenario. And I dreamed — unrealistically — that, although Gwen was ranked 54th out of 60, she might finish in the top 20.
I never once imagined the scene that would play out.
After a so-so swim in London's Serpentine and a mediocre bike leg that circled Buckingham Palace, Gwen executed a come-from-behind run that propelled her to a second-place finish.
Meanwhile, I had forgotten — never thinking it would impact her — that the London race was also an Olympic qualifier. The top three finishers advanced to the London 2012 Olympic Games. This two-hour event took my daughter from small-town rookie to big-stage Olympian.
The race changed her life — and mine, too. While the rewards were exhilarating, London showed me there could also be trouble. For a few hours, I celebrated being the mom of an Olympian. Then, when news spread about Gwen's achievement, I commiserated with her over the jealous rebukes from other triathletes who wanted what she had achieved, as well as the brutal online critiques that doubted her ability to replicate her success.
With help from her coaches, Gwen faced the backlash and took a full leave of absence from her accounting job. She launched a speedy study in international triathlon: agents, sponsors, coaches, equipment, public speaking, drug testing and social media.
Time ran out before she could learn everything, like how to maintain her bike or change a tire, but she arrived at the London 2012 Olympics eager to perform.
I watched from the bleachers. On this same course, just one year ago, Gwen had won the silver medal — how could I not hope for a repeat? I had visions of my daughter on the podium, maybe even the top step.
After a decent swim and a few laps on the bike, a puncture forced Gwen to stop at the wheel station. 'What wheel do you need?' the official asked.
Gwen's answer: 'The back one?'
She eventually replaced the wheel but lost five minutes — a guaranteed off-podium result. Still, she refused to give up, rejoined a bike pack, and executed a sprint to the finish for 38th place.
I saw her after the race, but not after the tears.
'I'm so proud,' I said. That was true, but it didn't take away the hurt.
Within hours, Gwen told me, 'I want to go to Rio and I want to win gold.' The tears still poured, but her resilience found a way to seep through.
Back home, she researched the best triathletes and how they prepared.
'Mom,' she said, 'I want to join a training group in Australia. If I train with the best, I know I can improve.'
I understood her reasoning, but for me, it would mean 10 months every year without our impromptu dinners, our shopping trips and our jaunts to races. And once again, I questioned the uncertainty and risk: Could she afford the fees? What about Australia's high cost of living? What if she got hurt far from home? Who would help her?
But Gwen had considered potential problems. She left for Australia ready to devote every minute, every meal, every sleep, every swim, every bike and every run to achieving her goal.
As the Rio 2016 Olympics approached, I should have been excited. Instead, I grew anxious. The dangers of training — a torn muscle or fractured bone — worried me. The perils of competition — choppy water, a pile-up on the bike course, hazardous heat — scared me. The expectations to perform — from the triathlon world, but also those Gwen imposed on herself — concerned me.
I was in the bleachers in Rio de Janeiro on a warm, windy Aug. 20, 2016. I watched Gwen sprint into the surf at Copacabana Beach. With my pulse pounding, I viewed much of the bike leg on the jumbotron, averting my eyes each time she descended the treacherous hill. I stood on my seat, knees shaky, and shouted Gwen's name as she ran past me, dripping in sweat, head-to-head with the defending Olympic champion. And then I screamed, and hugged my husband and older daughter, as she pulled into the lead and crossed the finish line to become the USA's first Olympic gold medal triathlete.
I celebrated Gwen on the podium (my vision blurred by my tears), hand over heart, as the 'Star Spangled Banner' played. I joined her for an NBC broadcast. I partied with her at the USA House. Those scenes played, on repeat, long after I got in bed that night, and for the next several weeks. But my real celebration is forever, because the little girl I raised faced the unknown, chased a dream and made it come true.
I never imagined Gwen would be an elite athlete, much less an Olympic champion. I envisioned a future for my daughter, but she upended the one in my head and created her own. I would guess that's true for a lot of parents. We give kids our best, but once offered, it's theirs to do with as they choose.
Gwen extrapolated lessons of musical discipline, athletic dedication and a CPA's precision and, with no guarantee of success, used them to unearth her athletic potential. I might have been apprehensive about the risks, but I knew she wouldn't be happy wondering what if.
I imagine that is also true for a lot of parents: When kids have a dream, no matter how improbable, we offer support and hope for the best. For my daughter, Olympic gold or not, Gwen's decision was right for her.
Gwen never returned to her CPA job. She is still exploring her potential, still on USA's national team — she was an alternate for Paris 2024. But now, she's also the mother of two boys, 7-year-old Stanley and 2-year-old George. She travels to Miyazaki, Tongyeong, Havana or Abu Dhabi while raising the next generation.
I don't give parenting advice unless asked, but I'm happy she's using some of my playbook, giving her boys a range of adventures: cycling, swimming, art, music, books and taekwondo.
I look at my grandsons and wonder. Where will they go? What will they do? What goals will they have? When they do something risky, I worry like I did about their mother. But experience tells me risks are part of the deal if they want to follow a dream.
Nancy Jorgensen is a Wisconsin-based writer, educator and collaborative pianist. Her most recent book is a middle-grade sports biography, 'Gwen Jorgensen: USA's First Olympic Gold Medal Triathlete' (Meyer & Meyer). Her essays have appeared in Ms. Magazine, The Offing, River Teeth, Wisconsin Public Radio, Cheap Pop and elsewhere. Find out more about her at NancyJorgensen.weebly.com and follow her on Instagram @NancJoe.
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