Winning the 2002 Canadian Henley Regatta was an absolutely unforgettable moment in my rowing career, and was the inspiration behind my commitment to train full-time with the US National Rowing Team.

The race was to be an elite competition, a showdown between two eights from the Canadian National Team and two US eights, six weeks before we’d meet at the World Championships in Seville. Selection was coming to a close, boats were about to be named for Worlds, and I had already been chosen an alternate for the US team. The eight women in my boat, registered as ‘Princeton Training Center B,’ pushed the guessing-game of selection out of our minds and planned to demonstrate that we were the best rowers in the United States. Before the race, we agreed to hammer out, with legs and backs, hearts and lungs, our collective will: Prove it.

A stiff cross-tail was blowing at the start, and our eight, with its bow pair still working to maintain a point, bobbled at “Attention, GO,” giving PTC a half-length lead off the start. To an outsider, and to us rowers ourselves, that start could have cast a shadow over the race.

But despite the start, no one faltered; our minds stayed with our boat, and we found a rhythm. Our stroke stubbornly held the rate at over 40 strokes per minute, long after the start. Instead of struggling to maintain unison at that fearsome rate, as most boats would have done, we rowed the rate, holding solidly a 39 into the body of the race. Never doubting the blistering pace, we took a risk. We rowed as if our lives depended on it, driving our legs down the boat.

That risk paid off. Crossing the thousand-meter mark, we heard Mary shout to us that we were even with the other US crew, that the Canadians were far behind. From that moment, our race changed from a fearless, nearly reckless pursuit to a sweet combination of exhaustion and exhilaration, wrath and pride, displaying the courage that only a leading boat with nothing to lose can feel. We surged ahead until we were nearly spent, and then tenaciously maintained our lead until we crossed the finish line.

We’d gone under six minutes in rough conditions, setting an unofficial world record. But more importantly, as we bowed our heads to receive gold medals, we knew we’d succeeded in shaking things up, that we’d proven that there were two eights of rowers who were world-class.

While I remained the spare for the US team that summer, two rowers from that Canadian Henley boat represented the US in the eight in Seville. For those two boatmates, our win in St. Catharines was the beginning of careers on the US team. For me, it was the defining moment in committing to train with the US team full-time. Despite the doubt off the start, we took a risk with the pace, committed to it, and were the fastest boat on the course.

I’ve taken the lessons of that race with me into my choice to train with the US team this year. Choosing to train full-time is a risk, one shadowed by the doubt of a summer on the sidelines-but backed by relentless commitment and desire, it’s a risk I believe will result in success. My gold medal from the Canadian Henley marked not the start of a journey towards Athens, but rather a defining moment on a trip I’d already begun. Winning that race, I felt confident, for the first time, that I truly possessed everything it takes to earn a place on a team that is now the fastest in the world, and I realized that taking — and trusting — the risk to train was the only step remaining. On that August day, I committed to the journey ahead, and I am confident that every training experience this year will bring me closer to my goal of competing at the 2004 Olympics. This September, I dove into the Guadalquivir to congratulate the eight at the finish line, and while I was thrilled for all of my teammates, I was happiest for my challenge-boat teammates who’d just become World Champions. Our shared race in Canada has been my inspiration for full-time training, and I have full intentions of pulling behind them once again at the Athens Games in 2004.

This September, I dove into the Guadalquivir to congratulate the eight at the finish line, and while I was thrilled for all of my teammates, I was happiest for my challenge-boat teammates who’d just become World Champions. Our shared race in Canada has been my inspiration for full-time training, and I have full intentions of pulling behind them once again at the Athens Games in 2004.