With a simple “Hey, kid - come over here and try this,” Alex Ghanotakis was on his way to what later would become a lifelong dream. His first attempt at throwing shot put landed across the gym, and by his sophomore year of high school he began throwing discus. He was a state champ in Massachusetts by his senior year, and continued throwing throughout his college career at Dartmouth.

As a college freshman, Alex placed fifth at the USA Junior Nationals; was Ivy League champion in the indoor 35-pound weight, Ivy League champ in the hammer (outdoor) and runner-up at the IC4A championships in discus during his junior year. As a senior, he was Ivy League champion in the hammer and discus, outstanding performer in the Heptagonal Championship, runner-up in the discus in IC4A and named All-American. He decided to continue this success, moving to California and rigorous training at Stanford University. But Corporate America won out.

Despite a goal of training for the Olympics, Alex was distracted. With school loans to pay, he took a software sales job with Oracle. Eventually, he found he was competing harder with his cube-mates for the next big sell than he was for his Olympic dream - so in 2000, he quit.

Alex dedicated himself to his job for almost two years, and in April 2002, he realized victories in the business world were not enough. He quit his job the next day, and chose to devote all of his time and talent toward one goal - competing for the Greek Olympic Team in 2004.

Proud to have dual citizenship in America and Greece due to his father’s heritage, Alex is thrilled at the prospect of competing on the Greek team. “There’s something very special about throwing discus for Greece, in Greece, in the Olympics.” Already he is allied with a club in Athens, and will begin training with that group in April 2003.

DHAC funding is in place exactly for people like him, Alex explained. “This is the problem they are trying to eliminate - what happened to me, athletes losing sight of their athletic goals and getting distracted by career goals or material interests. As for me, I wake up every day and just laugh, because I’m so pleased with my decision to focus on my dream.”

I remember the day very clearly. It was about 10:00 a.m. on a beautiful April morning at the track. The sun was warm and bright. A cool breeze was sweeping across the infield. The smell of freshly cut grass was in the air as the Stanford grounds keepers made their morning rounds. The track was a buzz with activity. Athletes from an array of sports were busy running, jumping, drilling, and stretching. Making use of the corner of the track by the discus cage for my warm-up - I too was part of the synergy. Half way through my warm up it hit me - I was free!

I was overcome with an intense wave of emotion. A 6′5″, 275lb, hulking giant and I was standing in the middle of the track with tears in my eyes and laughing. Any other given Tuesday, or weekday, prior to that morning, I would have been back at the office chained to my desk. Instead, I was out on the track getting ready for a throwing workout. What I was feeling was pure joy! Exhilaration! After three years of struggling to balance training, work, supporting myself, and throwing the discus far, and then two years away from the sport, I was back to doing what I love. I had removed a huge burden, a career stifling my athletic dreams, and everything inside of me affirmed that I had made the right decision.

That Tuesday morning workout came the day after I quit my job. It is the day that I rededicated myself to the goal of competing in an Olympics and started training again in the discus. That moment, my best sports moment, marks the time in my life that I had the courage, the strength, and the confidence to follow my heart, align my actions with the pursuit of my dreams, and commit 100% to believing in myself.

I had a very successful college career. I earned All-American honors, several individual Ivy League Titles, and was Team Captain. Despite these accomplishments my most striking feature was my potential - I was a big athletic guy with lots of “it.” When coaches and athletes saw me throw they would say, “When that kid figures out what he is doing he is going to throw it a mile.”

Upon graduation in 1997, I moved to California to pursue my athletic goals and train at Stanford University. Training was the priority and throwing far was the goal. Not long after my arrival in California with the reality of 20k in college loans, the necessity to support myself, and internal and external pressures I felt as an Ivy League grad to pursue a career, I accepted a job at Oracle Corporation selling software. I thought I could do it all - train intensely, begin a career, and pay off my college debt.

I am an individual committed to excellence in whatever endeavor I undertake. My career was no exception. In order to support the training, and myself I needed to work. In order to keep my job I had to produce. In order to produce I had to work hard. With Oracles cut throat environment and large quotas, I had to work very hard. As the demands of my job increased, more and more of my time and energy was consumed. My focus began to shift away from training. Ironically, when I picked my head up three years later I realized that my throwing was going nowhere and work had become my priority.

In the fall of 2000, I made the decision to retire from throwing. In the months that followed, I was miserable. I told myself that it had been a good effort but it was time to move on. I was only lying to myself. Yes, I had trained very hard and spent a lot of time in the process but never truly gave myself a chance - a chance to realize my potential. I felt incredibly unfulfilled. The goal of competing for Greece was then and is still very real. In addition, there is something very special about throwing the discus in an Olympics for Greece. Further more, in 2004, the Olympics would be taking place in Greece - the stars were aligning. For a period of almost two years this hung over my head. I found no peace.

Finally, I woke up one Sunday morning in April and knew, with a certainty and clarity that I have never before experienced, that I had to start training again. I went into work the very next morning and quit my job. The following day I was out at the track training.