Sometimes I look back and wonder if my career started as a top-level athlete or as an artist? And more and more, I realize it was never either/or. It was both. A blend. The strength of one complemented the soul of the other.
As an athlete, the path is measurable. You win or you lose. There’s a stopwatch, a scoreboard, and a final result. It’s clear. It’s definitive. But in the world of art, the result is less tangible, more vulnerable. You can produce something powerful, something meaningful and still not everyone will like it. Art is subjective. And yet, both worlds demand discipline, passion, and courage.
In my case, dancing forged the bridge. It gave me the stamina and structure of a sport, and the creative expression of art. That training gave me not only the will to perform but the will to persist.
I’ve always had the drive to succeed, not just to do the work, but to have that work seen. Recognized. Shared. So maybe that is the reason I want to write, to talk, to share and produce what matters to me. To bring my message into the world, even if it means stepping into a space where success is uncertain, and talent alone is never enough.
Because let’s be honest, even success brings new doubts. Am I still as good as yesterday? Will I be tomorrow? What’s next? But I’ve come to see that doubt is part of the process. Talent helps. Ambition pushes. But it’s discipline, the practice that ties one day to the next. Just like in dance.
Maybe a career isn’t a ladder after all. Maybe it’s a checkerboard. Not just up, but across. Diagonal. Sometimes even backwards. Always moving.
So the question remains: can you be both an artist and a competitor?
I believe you can. And if you live in that space between structure and soul, maybe that’s where the real magic happens.
