Love the grind

There are moments in sport that seem to slow time. One of those moments, for me, came while being at centre ice before a gold medal game between Canada and the United States. More than 12,000 fans packed the arena, the noise bouncing off every surface, and for a second everything just kind of went quiet. I remember looking down at the maple leaf on my chest, then out into the crowd and finding my family. I just took it in. Years of training, sacrifice, wins, losses, early mornings and long days all stacking up into that exact moment. The pressure was there, but what stood out more than anything was pride. Pride in representing Canada. Pride in representing every coach, teammate, professor, family member, friend and classmate who helped me get there. In that moment, I realized I was part of something a lot bigger than myself.

What I have realized since then is that those moments do not get built in the spotlight. They are built in the grind that no one sees. Early mornings when the rink is still half asleep and the morning fog clings to the glass. Long training blocks where fatigue becomes normal, and you begin to understand that consistency matters more than motivation. Somewhere along that journey, I wrote a phrase at the top of my journal that still guides me today: “Love the grind.” Not just endure it. Not just survive it. But love it. Because the grind of the journey is where memories are made and champions are built.

There were definitely days where that idea got tested pretty hard. Days where things felt heavy and I was just trying to get through the next rep, the next drill, the next assignment. Over time, I learned something that changed how I handled those days. I started to surrender the outcome. In sport and in life, it is easy to get ahead of yourself and start thinking about what the final score is going to be or about the endless “what ifs” the moment brings. When that happens, it is easy to lose track of the present. Working with my mental performance coach at the time, Liam Heelis, we learned to lean on our foundation and training. One cue that has stayed with me, inspired by Tom Brady, is to surrender the outcome by focusing on making your next two reps the best they can possibly be. Not the whole game. Not the whole practice. Just the next two.

Unsurprisingly, that same foundation I built through my career in sport has been useful elsewhere in my life too, particularly during my education. I started to look at school the same way I approached training. You do not get a degree in one semester, just like you do not become a champion in one game. If you try to look at everything at once, it can get overwhelming fast. By breaking it down, the biggest of challenges become manageable, and by leaning on my foundation and focusing on completing the next two assignments to the best of my abilities, I was able to stay successful and grounded.

Mount Royal University gave me the opportunity to build my own community. On my first day of class, I met some of my closest friends. Going through school together we grew close, eventually living together and staying connected even after graduation and life pulling us in different directions. Then during the 2026 Milano Cortina Paralympic Games, those same friends surprised me there. Seeing familiar faces in a completely different part of the world hit me more than I expected, and I am so grateful. Ultimately, I had many classmates over the years who helped me get through it all. Notes, lectures, covering things I missed when I was away competing. I owe a lot of people a lot of thank-you coffees.

I have been fortunate to be supported by Mount Royal’s great community and that feeling isn’t lost in sport. Wherever hockey has taken me, teammates have continually sacrificed room time so I could study or write tests. Athletic therapists, doctors and physios who not only take care of me, but use their rare off-hours to help me study.

Upon reflection, representing Canada has never been about that moment at centre ice or the medals. That moment was just the result. Everything that mattered was found in the process: in classrooms, in rinks, in training rooms and in the people who were part of it all.

So I keep coming back to the same things. Love the grind. Surrender the outcome. Make the next two reps the best you possibly can. And maybe most importantly, find wonderful people and appreciate them properly while you have them. Because none of this ever really happens alone.