No matter how bright your light is, at some point you must emerge from the darkness.

One  day, while I was warming up in the snowy mountains of Park City, Utah, I  laced up my Gore-Tex running shoes, fastened the suspenders on my snow  pants, and recited Surah Al-Fatiha in my head. I was getting ready to compete in my first World Cup Bobsled race as a brakeman for Team USA, and I wanted to push the fastest time of my life. I pressed play on my  Spotify ‘warm-up’ mix, which was comprised of 70% Afrobeats songs, and  took off jogging. A song came on called Arise by the Mavins. I swear I  had listened to that song 100 times before then. But that day, for some  reason, after about :50 seconds I was so overwhelmed with emotions that I  stopped mid-stride and started walking. I found myself in a remote area  of the mountains, at 7300 ft elevation, staring into the distance. I  was both happy and sad at the same time.

My mind understood what  I was doing but my heart knew the ode I had made to myself over a  decade earlier. It was bigger than sport and I knew what I had to do.

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