See me poised in the starting blocks of the 400-meter hurdles, and you might think I have nerves of steel. After all, I’m the women’s world-record holder in the event and the 2021 Olympic gold medalist. But I’m far from unflappable. In fact, for most of my life, I was driven by fear. Fear of failure, of not living up to people’s expectations.
I defined myself by my athletic accomplishments. Nothing about me mattered if I wasn’t winning a race. It wasn’t until I suffered crushing defeats on and off the track that I turned to the only One greater than my problems, greater than my fear, and discovered my truest identity, the title that means the most: daughter of God.
Do you ever feel as if you’re being chased by fear and anxiety? I’d like to share some lessons I’ve learned in my faith journey, lessons I’ve framed through verses from Proverbs. I hope they will help bring you the peace, freedom and joy they’ve brought me.
Lesson 1: “The fear of man lays a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is safe.” (Proverbs 29:25)
I grew up in Dunellen, New Jersey, a suburb 30 miles from New York City. Both of my parents ran track, but they never pressured me. From an early age, I loved to run.
Then I began competing, and something else took hold of me. A need not just to run but to win. On the way to a race when I was seven, I told my dad I was terrified of losing.
“If that happens,” he said calmly, “we’ll get some food and go home.”
His message didn’t sink in. The more I raced, the more I won. And the more I won, the more fear took over. What if I didn’t win the next time?
Junior year of high school, I ran so well, I made it to the 2016 U.S. Olympic trials in Eugene, Oregon. Before my first heat, I looked at the runners warming up around me. They were confident women with well-designed race strategies. I was a timid 16-year-old girl. I’d never felt so undeserving.
I was so scared, I called my dad. “Can I please pull out?” I begged.
“You’re already there, Syd,” he said. “Just get the experience.”
At the starting line, my competitive instinct kicked in. I won that heat and the next. In the final, I finished third, grabbing the last spot on the Rio Olympic team. I felt relief that the race was over. Then panic.
I’d dreamed of running in the Olympics since watching the women of Team USA win gold in the 4-by-400-meter relay on TV when I was eight, but all I could think about now was the very real possibility of losing.
I made the semifinals of the 400-meter hurdles in Rio. So did the other two Americans, Dalilah Muhammad and Ashley Spencer. There was talk of an American sweep. The weight of those expectations was suffocating.
Partway through my semifinal, my will to win left me. Instead of my usual surge in the last seconds, I let up. My Olympics were over.
The fear I’d been giving in to was a trap. It stole one of the great seasons of my life. It told me, If you can’t be perfect, why even try?
Blessings can become burdens if you let fear control you. Had I known then what I know now—that I should have looked to the Lord, not other people, for meaning and purpose—I would have run for the pleasure of running. Competed for the joy of competition. Honored God for the gift he had given me: the gift of speed.
Lesson 2: “Know that wisdom is such to your soul; if you find it, there will be a future, and your hope will not be cut off.” (Proverbs 24:14)
I moved to Los Angeles in the fall of 2018 to begin my professional career. The 400-meter hurdles are one of the most grueling events in track. No other event requires such a combination of technique, endurance and speed. My first year as a pro, I missed too many training days. My lack of discipline showed. I had trouble clearing the hurdles. Dalilah, the reigning Olympic champion, demolished me—and the world record—at Nationals.
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