Our family gathered on the couch of our Red Tail home the evening of February 6th to watch and celebrate the opening of the XXV Winter Olympic Games in Milano, Italy. Being a third-generation speedskater and former member of Team USA, the 17-day event has become our religious pilgrimage. But so much would be different these games – and not just the multi-city hosts and wide array of streaming options to capture every single minute of sports action. No, this would be the first time without having my dad either at my side or on speed dial to go through stroke-by-stroke analysis of every male and female speedskating event. He loved the Olympics.

Though dad and grandpa first put skates on my feet just shy of my second birthday, our real Olympic journey began 46 years ago in the quaint little village of Lake Placid when it hosted the XIII Winter Games. This was the site of the Miracle on Ice, along with Eric Heiden winning an unprecedented 5 Gold Medals. It is no wonder that Dad made the 1,100-mile round-trip from North Olmsted three times during those 17 days! Each time he picked up and returned a different crew of people – Mom, Grandpa, friends, relatives…and eventually me. I remember standing by dad’s side next to the glowing yellow protective mats of the speedskating oval as Eric Heiden (in his Golden skin suit) and Gaetan Boucher of Canada whipped past us at blazing speed. It was epic – and highly contagious for us both.

Over the next 14 years, our family travelled the country in our Chevy Conversion van, gaining racing experience and wisdom in powerhouse speedskating cities like Chicago, Minneapolis, Madison, and Saratoga Springs. We did not have family vacations. Speedskating getaways were our trip to the Magic Kingdom, often coming with the proverbial storylines defining the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. Long before cell phones and iPads, we were forced into family conversations about school, business, life, and, of course, speedskating. But as the obvious goal seemed to be Timmy and Erin pursuing an Olympic Dream, it was Dad who was building an astonishing resume as an on-ice referee. He grew bored sitting in the stands between our races, which could equate to 10 or more hours a day. So, he made the most of his spare time and volunteered at every competition, no matter where we travelled. 

In January of 1994, Dad and I returned to Lake Placid, NY, as I qualified to race in my third USA Olympic Team Trials, while Dad served as referee for the second time in the Women’s event. These 4-days proved to be a physical, mental, and emotional grind. Unfortunately, more tears than cheers were shed between us that weekend, as I ended up retaining USA National Team status but only as an Olympic Team alternate. I would not be racing in Lillehammer. With my brother now out of the sport, our family dream turned into what we perceived at the time as a nightmare. We made the long trip without reaching our destination…or had we?

Under my dad’s Senior year photo in his West Tech High School yearbook, it asked this question – What is your lifelong ambition? His answer simply read, “Participate in the Olympic Games.” Participate. In his unrelenting fashion, Dad continued to march forward with his referee career, now able to serve in both men's and women’s events since I was no longer in the racing field. Major opportunities soon poured in, and Dad was granted international status and ranking. Four short years later, he was on the ice in Nagano, Japan, participating in his first Winter Olympic Games. Eight years after he would be back in Torino (Italy) followed by Vancouver in 2010. Dad, who had ignited our initial Olympic flame, would now provide the fuel to keep it burning for eternity. 

Back to February 6th. While watching the opening ceremony, I could not stop glancing at the marble urn in our great room. Three sides colorfully display each of the Olympic logos from Nagano, Torino, and Vancouver, with the fourth side displaying Dad’s name and dates. In that moment, I was hit by the realization that our family journey must continue, and it was now my time to pass along our family Olympic torch. Looking at Alieshia with glossy eyes, I asked: “Do you want to go to the Olympics?” 

By the next Wednesday, we were on a flight to Milano.

We spent the next 5 days attending events, hanging with former skating friends and coaches, partying at Team USA House, and even finding our way onto the Today Show. A new chapter has now begun, as Milano assured our family tradition will live on. I am forever committed to following Dad’s lead, and plan to make future “roundtrips” with family and friends to the Winter Olympic Games. But the most sacred moment of this experience was taking dad for one last lap around the track, spreading a handful of his ashes at the Short Track venue during racing at the Milano-Cortina Olympics. After all, Dad always just wanted to participate.