Source: Quanesha Burks
As a Tokyo 2021 Olympian, I thought I had faced every test of resilience. But when I placed fourth at the Olympic trials for Paris 2024, narrowly missing my second Olympic Team, I was confronted with unforeseen emotions and doubts. The disappointment sparked unsettling questions: "Am I still an Olympian?" and "Was Tokyo just a fluke?" Yet, I knew I couldn't let self-doubt dictate my narrative.
Instead, I chose to draw upon the same inner strength that propelled me to Olympic heights, and face the challenges ahead with renewed determination.
The Moment of Truth
I vividly recall walking away from Hayward Field, witnessing others celebrate their reclamation of the title "Olympian" - a lifelong dream come true. The roaring crowds, flashing cameras, and reporters clamoring for interviews only heightened the sting. As I exited the stadium, my world crumbled around me.
Sitting on the trainer's table, reality hit hard: I fell short of my next Olympic goal, a second Olympic team, my second dream.
Time stood still. Everything seemed to freeze. I felt paralyzed, unsure how to move forward.
"How do I get up from this?"
"How do I keep going?" The questions swirled in my mind.
I had never prepared for this outcome. My focus was fixed on standing atop the podium in Paris, just weeks away. Flight arrangements for friends and family were already made. Every aspect of my life had revolved around Olympic training for three years. Now, I faced an unsettling question: How do I move on with life when my entire existence has been defined by this singular pursuit?
The Unspoken Struggle
We often celebrate the triumphs of Olympic athletes, but rarely acknowledge the struggles of those who come agonizingly close — just 6cm, in my case.
The mental toll of missing the team is overwhelming. You question everything: identity, purpose, and value.
And the irony? I still had to go through Team USA processing as an "alternate" — a label that grated. To me, alternate meant backup, reserve, or secondary. But I'm not a backup. I'm an Olympian! Top 5 in the World, a favorite to make the teams, with a track record of success since the last Games. What was always a celebratory ritual for me instantly became a painful reminder of what could have been.
For days, months even, I felt lost. The sting lingered. The shift from insider to outsider was jarring. I'd always been part of the inner circle, and now I felt like a spectator looking in. I've built a reputation for consistency, so falling short of the top 3 was incomprehensible. The disappointment was suffocating. Countless calls and texts poured in, but l lacked the motivation to respond. It all felt like a nightmare I couldn't wake up from.
Paradoxically, I felt both alone and under intense scrutiny. I could hear my phone buzzing nonstop, but I couldn't bear to acknowledge the words from the other end, bringing me face to face with a nightmare. Accepting the reality of my situation was too painful.
Jun 29, 2024; Eugene, OR, USA; Quanesha Burks rallies the crowd during her jump in the women’s long jump at the US Olympic Track and Field Team Trials. Credit: Craig Strobeck-Imagn Images
The trials continued, and the impending Olympic Games loomed, making it harder to cope. Watching peers celebrate their selections was bittersweet. I was genuinely happy for them, yet every congratulatory message I sent was tinged with sadness, reminding me of my own disappointment.
Tears flowed freely, and the hurt lingered. It was essential to remind myself: my worth extends far beyond athletic achievements. I am more than my performance.
In those dark moments, I had to reconcile my identity with this unexpected outcome. It wasn't easy, but I began to separate my self-worth from my athletic success.
As I navigated this unfamiliar terrain, I grappled with:
- Identity crisis: Who am I without the Olympic team?
- Purpose: What drives me now?
- Self-doubt: Was I fooling myself thinking I still had it?
But I refused to let this setback define me.
The Mental Game
It's easy to get sucked into the narrative that you're only an Olympian if you make the current team, erasing one’s past achievements.
To cope, I hit pause on life, despite having relentless momentum. I needed solitude to reflect. During this dark period, my tight-knit friend group of four and counselor, Dr. A, were my lifeline. We communicated constantly — sometimes hourly. I shared my raw emotions with them, unfiltered and unguarded.
Their unwavering support was a beacon of comfort. Simply being on the phone with my supporters brought solace, like a virtual hug. In those moments, I didn't need advice; l just needed to be heard.
As I navigated the emotional aftermath of missing my second Olympic games, my four friends — all with a background in track athletics — stood by me. One had also come up short at the trials, and together we grieved, sharing inexplicable motions.
With their help, I began to:
- Separate my identity from my athletic performance,
- Reclaim my self-worth beyond Olympic accomplishments,
- Find strength in vulnerability,
- Rediscover purpose beyond the Games.
These relationships reminded me that shared experiences can heal emotional wounds, vulnerability fosters deeper connections, and true support knows no bounds, not even Olympic cycles.
I was broken, more mentally than physically.
Losing is part of sports, but falling agonizingly close — 6cm shy — left me torn. I felt both accomplished and failed simultaneously. The questions swirled: "How do I stop this feeling?" "Will it ever go away?"
But amidst the turmoil, a truth emerged: being an Olympian transcends making the team. I began to focus on the relentless journey, the countless sacrifices, and the unwavering dedication. I am still an Olympian, regardless of the outcome on June 29th, 2024. My identity isn't defined by a single moment or outcome.
Jun 26, 2021; Eugene, OR, USA; Women's long jump winner Brittney Reese (middle) poses with runner-up Tara Davis (left) and third-place finisher Quanesha Burks during the US Olympic Team Trials at Hayward Field. Credit: Kirby Lee-Imagn Images
Finding Resilience
Coping with disappointment after falling short of an Olympic berth is challenging, especially when others minimize your feelings. Placing 4th at the Olympic trials felt like a lifetime dream slipped through my fingers, and some didn’t understand that.
In such cases, well-intentioned comments often miss the mark:
"You made it to the Olympic trials, that's amazing!"
"At least you made it that far."
"You're still an Olympian."
These statements, though supportive, can feel dismissive. They overlook the years of sacrifice, dedication, and hard work invested in a singular goal: making the Olympic team.
For me, reaching the trials wasn't the ultimate goal; it was a stepping stone to something greater. Comments like these made me feel guilty for being upset, as if I should be content with merely reaching the trials. But they couldn't understand the sacrifices, dedication, and all of the energy that was put into that one achievement.
I recognized they meant no harm, but their words exposed our differing realities. I decided to confront my disappointment head-on, as life wasn't waiting for me to process my emotions.
The Games were approaching, and reminders were inescapable because of:
- TV broadcasts
- News headlines
- Social media buzz
- Ads
- Even flight announcements from flight attendants
Source: Quanesha Burks
Every reminder stung, but I refused to let disappointment define me. It was time to face my emotions and move forward.
My Name and My Journey Continues
My story serves as a poignant reminder: your worth transcends athletic achievements. Being an Olympian or an almost-2x Olympian doesn't define you. Remember who you are, what you've accomplished, and the incredible journey that has shaped you.
To fellow athletes and those facing similar struggles, l urge you to:
- Hold onto your identity
- Cherish your passion
- Harness your resilience
Your worth extends far beyond the finish line.
Embrace the journey, not just the destination.
Years of dedication and sacrifice may culminate in a single moment, but it's important to find value in things like the early morning training session, sacrifices that you have to make, and triumphs and setbacks that you encounter. Those are the things really shape you into who you are, and who you will become.
As an Olympian, l've learned to draw strength from my journey, not just my achievements.
Setbacks don't define your worth, they help you find strength you never knew you had. You will always be more than your accomplishments.
Never forget that your identity, worth, and value precede your athletic achievements.
Love and invest in the person bearing your name, for it matters most.
Remember, regardless of your Olympic status — former, multi-time, or aspiring — your name comes first, followed by the "OLY" distinction:
"Your Name" OLY
The "OLY" suffix symbolizes accomplishment, but it's your name that embodies your true essence.
— Quanesha Burks, OLY
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