Recently, Bisbee High School English teacher Mary Franco invited former Bisbee High graduates back to talk about their careers. The students listened in awe, realizing their predecessors roamed the same modest hallways of BHS.

Unfortunately, I missed it.

Although I can’t compete with the likes of doctors and rocket scientists, missing Mrs. Franco’s outstanding program totally bummed me out. It’s always fun to brag, but I missed a golden opportunity to motivate today’s youth. I’m excited to have this opportunity now.

Today, I work for the United States Ski and Snowboard Association, the organization behind our nation’s Olympic Ski and Snowboard Teams. Together, we strive to become the best in the world in Olympic skiing and snowboarding.

I do my part by serving as a Strength and Conditioning Specialist for the U.S. Women’s Alpine Ski Team, responsible for coordinating their year-round fitness regimens. In February, I’ll join them in Vancouver for the 2010 Olympic Winter Games.

The challenge and excitement of my career is nothing less than extraordinary, but my journey here makes it so much more compelling.

I concluded my master’s in education with a student-teaching assignment at BHS. My biology students asked so many questions, but interestingly, most of their questions had nothing to do with biology.  They asked about jobs and money, drugs and alcohol, love and even sex. Apparently, my high school antics still echoed after so many years because they asked me about those, too.

But they asked one question the most, “Why do I need to know this?”

“You don’t!” I answered.

Although administrators, teachers, and parents may disagree, I gave them my honest opinion. I explained that their jobs and/or college will teach them everything they’ll need to know.

I told them that ambition is the important thing. It’s not important to know where they’re going, but to let their ambition lead them.

Finally, I let them know that their ambition can’t lead them to the next step if they don’t get through my class. Therefore, I suggested they might as well get as much out of it as possible, because there’s a chance it could help in the future.

I sit here now, contemplating how all of my high school classes helped me. I spent seven semesters in the weight room with Coach Armando Ballesteros. Obviously, that paid off.

Tom Runyon was my favorite teacher, but I hated science. I had no idea I’d earn a bachelor’s degree in exercise science, with minors in biology and chemistry, all before becoming a sports scientist.

It’s a good thing Bill Sullivan and Ken Olander drilled me in English because from application letters, to resumes, research articles, and training programs, I’m happy they taught me how to write. Penelope Levario badgered me about learning some new software program called Excel, but I didn’t listen to her. Today, I write training applications in Excel with such complexity that countries from around the world contact me for consultation.

I should have paid more attention in Ron Olander’s math classes because with all the scientific research and statistics behind my job, math is paramount. In fact, some of my Excel equations cover four typed pages. I could go on, but the point is, I never knew how any of my classes would help me, but every single one of them has and continues doing so.

I’ve taken advantage of many remarkable opportunities since BHS, but I have also overcome mistakes and failures in order to find success.

My high school dream of playing college sports never came true. I had a daughter at the beginning of my senior year, and many people still say that she is the reason why I never played. Yes, I was irresponsible, but my daughter didn’t slow me down at all. I still became the star running back of the football team, and went to Australia for the Down Under Bowl. I played catcher for the baseball team, and participated in the Arizona Class 3A All-Star game. I starved myself for the Copper Classic Bodybuilding Championship, only to come in second to best friend Josh Riggs. I wrote for the local newspaper, and I graduated valedictorian. 

My daughter didn’t stop me. She merely fueled my ambition. She gave me a bigger reason to succeed.

The truth is that I was too proud. I had many opportunities to play at the junior college or Division III levels, but I refused to play anything less than Division I college sports. Unfortunately, I quickly found out I didn’t have enough talent for D-I when the University of Arizona baseball team cut me after the first day of tryouts.

Three years later, I transferred to Northern Arizona University and tried out for the football team. My speed disappeared, and I quickly became known as “The Matrix,” for my ability to pull off a few magical plays, all in slow motion. Obviously, I didn’t make the team.

I laugh about it today, but that humiliating nickname still haunts me. Every time an old friend reminds me, I’m forced to face my shortcomings. Quite frankly, I wasn’t good enough to play at the top, and my own pride prevented me from playing at a lower level.  I don’t regret it though, because I’ve realized that my ambition drives me in a way that I’d rather fail at being the best than to settle for being something less. 

That might be one of the most valuable revelations I’ve had in my career thus far. I’m not afraid to fail. Knowing this makes me feel invincible because I feel like I can do anything without fear.

My ambition and my willingness to fail have made my voyage a downhill stroll. When my athletic career ended, I simply redirected my passions.  As I searched for a career, I put my heart and soul into my studies, and ended up graduating from NAU with a 4.0 GPA. My passion for sports and the weight room pushed me into the strength and conditioning profession. I immediately started exploring this dream of coaching at the elite level. I mailed my resume to every single team in the NFL. I fell short, but did land an internship in the Arena Football League. The following spring, I sent my resume to every NFL team again as well as the United States Olympic Committee. The USOC rejected me, but this time, I spent the next six months in an NFL weight room. Then I sent my resume to the USOC one more time.

It paid off. I spent my summer at the Olympic Training Center in Chula Vista, Calif., preparing our nation’s finest athletes for Athens 2004.

That’s where I developed my passion for Olympic sport.

After the USOC, I returned to NAU, where I coached until the USSA hired me in 2007. I thought, “Finally, I’m going to the Olympics.”

But my euphoria ended quickly. 

My new supervisor sat down with me and told me to avoid becoming complacent. He told me that all strength coaches write training programs and get their athletes stronger. He demanded that I go beyond that. He said that he doesn’t want me to work, but he wants me to live an extraordinary career.

I’ll watch the Olympics from the bottom of the race hill, but I understand that I must continue pushing myself. That’s exactly what I’ll do. My rockin’ mullet will flow behind me as my ambition launches me forward. Who knows? Maybe I’ll publish a book or get a Ph.D. I’m not sure, but I will say this. I’m eager.