25/05/2026
Thirty years ago, I sat in a boat on a lake in Atlanta and won an Olympic gold medal. In a few days, I fly back to Atlanta, not to compete this time, but to watch my daughter race on the same water in the NCAAs (USA University Championships).
Somewhere between packing and not giving her the rowing advice she hasn't asked for, I've been thinking about ambition, ageing, starting again, and the strange way dreams change shape over time.
When I was 24, the dream was clear. There was a training plan, a race plan, a team, a finish line. Now, in my fifties, I am building something different. A business. A new chapter. A different kind of ambition, and honestly? It is uncomfortable. But it is also the most alive I have felt in years.
I used to think daring to dream belonged to youth. I don’t think that anymore.
I think the dreams that matter most are often the ones that still make your stomach turn a little when you say them out loud.
The ones you circle for months, maybe years. The ones that ask you to become a slightly braver version of yourself.
So my question is this: What do you dare to dream now? Not when you were 24. Not when life looked different. Now.
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