by Jessica Long
I was only two years into this Paralympic world, but I was already being recognized because I had just swept the World Championships, winning all nine of my events (seven individual swims and two relays). Being able to participate in parades made me feel important. It was an honor to be interviewed and congratulated after Athens, but this kind of attention was completely different. Nine gold medals were bound to draw some attention, and they most certainly did. Shortly after winning the Sullivan Award, I was approached by Nike. I couldn’t believe it. Nike wanted me? I have high expectations for myself, but I never thought Nike was going to call and say they wanted me to represent them. I had “gone pro” the previous year, when I signed a contract with a management company. Once an amateur athlete signs with a sponsor, she officially becomes a professional athlete and is ineligible for college scholarships related to her sport. My parents and I had discussed it and decided it was worth it. Swimming was my world, and I wanted to see where that could take me. When Nike expressed an interest in me, I knew I had made the right decision. The contracts were signed, and at age fifteen I became a true professional athlete.
One of the best parts was receiving a private account and being able to order all sorts of Nike clothes. My favorite item was a pair of green-and-pink sneakers with zebra stripes on the side. I wore them everywhere. I loved feeling so influential that Nike wanted me to wear its clothes. I loved being linked to a brand and being able to call myself a professional athlete. Since Nike, I have collaborated with several other corporations, including Nutrilite, a vitamin company, as well as Arena swimwear, Liberty Mutual, Oakley, and Airweave. Visa even put my face on a credit card!
I was selected to work with CocaCola as one of eight athletes they chose to represent them for the 2012 Games. I had my very own Coke commercial, which was a blast to shoot. They had to teach me how to drink out of the soda bottle—who knew there was a right way and a wrong way to do it for the camera?
Posing next to my picture in a giant Visa ad.
I remember going to a movie theater, shocked to see my face on the screen before the previews began. I modeled for Ralph Lauren, and my picture was on posters all over Macy’s and in Elle and Vogue magazines. My grandmother actually convinced a mall employee to give her one of the displays when they were taking it down. We had a Ralph Lauren display with my face on it gracing our living room for much too long after that.
Celebrating silver on the podium at the medal ceremony in Rio.
I can’t believe all the companies I’ve had the privilege to work with and who’ve helped share my story. I’ve seen more sponsorship opportunities open up to Paralympians through the years, and it has been an honor helping to spread awareness of the Paralympic movement and to see how it has steadily gained more attention and coverage in the United States. I love that I’ve been part of it.
At the Nike suite in Houston, Texas, for team processing, one week before leaving for Rio.
7
The moment I won an ESPY
The ESPY Awards are like the Oscars for sports. In 2007, I received a phone call from my agent, who told me that I was nominated for Best Female Athlete with a Disability! I should mention that these votes are cast by the general public, so my family had sent out lots of emails and posts on social media to vote, vote, vote. Still, it was a big honor to even be nominated. I decided to take my big sister Amanda with me as my date. She is someone I always looked up to, and I knew we’d have a great time together. My mom took us shopping at Nordstrom for gowns. Amanda and I would be walking the red carpet with other athletes and celebrities, so I wanted it to be perfect. I settled for a bright blue silk dress with an open back. I fell in love with it immediately, especially because it showed my strong swimmer’s back. The ESPYs are held in Los Angeles, so they flew my sister and me first class, and I felt like a true celebrity. When we got to our hotel room, we found out about the ESPY gift suites. My sister and I went to the third floor, where all kinds of brands had stations set up featuring their clothes and accessories. We walked from room to room, adding gifts to our bag. I remember thinking, This is all for simply being nominated for an award? My favorite gifts were a custom pair of True Religion jeans and a pair of Fendi sunglasses, both of which I still own.
We saw Michael Phelps at the 2007 ESPYs and I had to get a picture.
Leaving the ESPYs after-after-party in Los Angeles, California, with my sister Amanda.
After “shopping” the gift suites, we went to the pre-party. This was when I really felt as if I had made it bigtime. There are pre-parties, after-parties, and even an after-after-party at the ESPYs. I knew my chances of meeting celebrities were really good, but I didn’t expect to see one of my favorites. Amanda and I were at the pre-party, laughing and having a great time admiring everyone’s clothing and dancing with each other, when my sister made a comment about how funny it would be if we saw Hilary Duff. I kid you not, no more than thirty seconds later I turned around and saw Hilary Duff. I didn’t work up the nerve to run over and say hi, but just being in the same room with her meant the world to me. The Lizzie McGuire Movie is one of my all-time favorites.
FAVORITE MOVIES:
A LOT LIKE LOVE, TITANIC, TOY STORY, A WALK TO REMEMBER.
Everything at the ESPYs is designed to make you feel special. The following day, Amanda and I got our hair and makeup done, put on our new attire in our hotel room, and set off to walk the red carpet. When our car arrived at the event, there was a sign directing the attendees and nominees. I was in awe of the whole experience. Amanda knew more of the celebrities than I did, pointing them out to me as we walked. There were so many cameras, and I loved pausing to pose for each one. We took our time on the red carpet, soaking up every minute of it.
I ended up winning that year. Since Best Female Athlete with a Disability is not a televised category, my award wasn’t presented live. My name flashed on the screen as the ceremony was on commercial break, but I didn’t care. I won! I left the theater to go to the bathroom to call my family and share the good news. The ESPY was later sent to our house, and it had my name engraved on the front of the little plaque. We discovered that the statue is a lot heavier than it looks. That award is something I’m really proud of. A lot of athletes dream of being invited to the ESPYs, and I’ve had the privilege four times. I won in 2007, 2012, and 2013. I was nominated in 2009, but Erin Popovich won that year. If there’s anyone who’s allowed to beat me, it’s Po. I was so happy for her. I am truly grateful simply to have been at these events with all these incredible athletes.
Running into Selena Gomez while walking the red carpet at the 2013 ESPY Awards.
8
The moment I failed
How does it feel to have failed? You didn’t do what you said you would.” It seemed as if every reporter was asking me that same question. The answer was simple. It felt awful. Like a punch to the gut. Like I let everyone down, especially myself. The funny thing is, I had just won another Paralympic medal! In my second Paralympic Games in Beijing, China, I had taken the bronze medal in the hundred-meter breaststroke. I would be on the podium, taking a prize some athletes work for their whole career. I should have been happy. The problem was that I had told everyone I would walk out of the Beijing Games with seven gold medals, and this bronze medal just killed that dream.
The athletes finally have a chance to sightsee after the ten days of competition! The unevenness of the Great Wall made it hard for me to keep my balance, but I still went with a group to walk along a section of it.
My dad used to tell me about Mark Spitz and his record of seven gold medals at the 1972 Summer Olympics in Munich (West Germany). I figured, Why not go for seven gold medals—just like Mark Spitz? I had been ranked first in the world in six events and second in one event. I truly believed with my entire being that I could do it. Months before the competition, I wrote “7 gold” everywhere. I had it written on my laptop screen saver, next to my mirror, and in my journal. I taped a number 7 above my bed so it was
the first and last thing I saw each day. I wanted seven gold, and I told that to anyone who would listen. I was more determined than ever before.
Athletes who are about to compete wait in the “ready room.” You arrive twenty minutes prior to your race, and if you miss roll call, you are disqualified. Being in the ready room can be quite intimidating. You are surrounded by all your competitors, just waiting to swim. People are warming up, stretching in corners; some stare at you with a determined look on their face. But most are quiet, listening to music through their headphones. I have always loved dancing. I go into the ready room, put on my headphones, and try to relax by jamming out. I was ready for my first race. I was ready to win and be one gold medal closer to dominating all seven of my events. The thought of anything but a gold hadn’t even crossed my mind.
Diving into the 200 IM (short course) in Brazil for the 2009 World Championships.
I don’t think I had ever cried in front of my mom. I stubbornly refused to cry when most people would—not when I fell, had a bad leg infection, was in pain from a tough surgery, or even when my appendix burst. I used to tease my mom for crying so easily at movies or about other people’s struggles. I saw crying as weakness, and I refused to be weak.
IN THE ZONE
There are a couple of things I do every race day that have become important rituals for me before I feel ready to swim. One of those things is eating a banana. I’ve been doing this since Athens, where all I had before winning my first gold medal was a banana. I also clap my hands three times and shake my arms out while I’m standing behind the starting block before a race.
But when I went up to the stands as I did after each medal ceremony, this time with a bronze medal in hand, I collapsed in my mom’s arms and sobbed. I remember sitting in an empty stairwell with my family, hiding from the fans who wanted to take pictures with me, and crying my eyes out. I wasn’t supposed to win a bronze. I, Jessica Long, was the world record holder. I didn’t know what happened. I kept analyzing how my stroke had been slightly off that morning, but I believed it would work itself out and my fastest time would come back for finals. My family was so supportive and genuinely proud of me, but to my sixteen-year-old mind, I was a failure.
I gave up a lot for swimming. I missed out on vacations, birthday parties, weddings, and simple pleasures such as hanging out with friends and doing normal teenage things. I made those sacrifices to be the best in my sport. I was always at the pool, on my way to the pool, talking about a past practice set I swam, or thinking about what crazy set may be thrown at me in the future. My mind was preoccupied with swimming, and I chose that. But it didn’t mean it wasn’t hard to tell my friends every week that I couldn’t hang out because I had swim practice, or to turn down that ice cream everyone else was eating, or to skip a family vacation because a competition was coming up and missing even a single day of practice would throw my body off. Suddenly all these sacrifices were staring at me in the form of a bronze medal. I wondered if it had been worth it. Maybe that’s melodramatic, but touching that wall in third place absolutely crushed me.
I earned medals for six out of my seven races at the 2008 Paralympic Games in Beijing, China. My dad tried to convince me to be excited about receiving a full set (gold, silver, and bronze), but I only liked the four gold medals.
Swimming was my whole world. It’s where I found my very self, and it became the way I measured whether I was worthy enough. I had set the foundation of who I was on winning seven gold medals. When I came home with four gold, a silver, and a bronze, it didn’t feel like enough. I didn’t feel like enough. I even considered retirement, all because of a silly color on a medal.
All ready for homeschool prom in Baltimore, Maryland.
I still loved swimming, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to train for any upcoming Paralympic meets. I got back into the routine of my regular life and started taking college courses along with my homeschool work. I decided to invest more in my social life, having more sleepovers and getting invited to several proms with my friends.
I talked through my doubts about swimming with my coach, Andrew Barranco, who had actually been training me since I started swimming. He refused to let me quit. He started picking me up for morning practices at 5:30 a.m. At the end of the summer he sat me down for a one-on-one meeting, where he walked me through my progress and potential. I can always count on Andrew’s loyalty and his commitment to seeing me succeed. He has always been willing to train me when I was in the process of switching coaches, or just hear me out when I need to talk. The thought of disappointing Andrew was greater than that of disappointing my parents. He had put up with a lot of sass from me over the years, but he never backed down. I needed that. I always knew I had to put in at least as much work as he put in to my training. I struggled with the decision to get back into the water after the Beijing Games, but Andrew helped me see that I couldn’t give in just yet. I knew I needed to compete in the London Games in 2012.
Sporting my Beijing medals in a photoshoot following the 2008 Paralympic Games.
9
The moment I claimed my independence
When I look back on my life, the years I spent at the Olympic Training Center (OTC) in Colorado Springs were some of the best. As my high school graduation was quickly approaching, I felt that I needed a change. Since I had already turned professional, I decided the training center was the right place for me to be challenged and grow as an athlete. The Olympic Training Center is basically a Disneyland for athletes.
It’s this amazing facility where Olympic and Paralympic hopefuls can live and train full-time. It’s impossible not to become a better athlete while training there. For swimmers, there’s a beautiful fifty-meter pool, a hot tub and a cold tub for recovering, and really anything you would need. One of my favorite places at the OTC was the Sports Medicine Clinic, where the staff would work on my shoulders after practice and I could get massages whenever I wanted.
And then there’s the food! The food in the cafeteria is some of the healthiest and most delicious in the world. They use whole foods and lean meats, with no processed sugars in sight. Avocados were traded like gold, and you had to know the right people to get one. Waffle Sunday was always my favorite day in the OTC cafeteria. After a long week of training, having a giant waffle was the perfect way to end the week.
At my homeschool graduation! I was extra excited because I was asked to speak as valedictorian.
FAVORITE RECIPES:
ANYTHING WITH BRUSSELS SPROUTS! I CAN’T GET ENOUGH.
I was eighteen, and the OTC was essentially my college experience, although instead of attending classes, I went to countless swim practices and weight training sessions, yoga and Pilates, and sports medicine. I had the opportunity to try new sports, too, and I was always happy to meet all the athletes outside of the swim world and hear about what made them passionate about their sport.
In 2010, I graduated from high school, competed in my second World Championships in the Netherlands, explored Paris for a few days with my two best friends, Kelley Becherer and Anna Eames, and from there went to my new home in Colorado Springs.
I had been attending swim camps there since I was twelve, but on my first night there as a resident, my suitcase still packed from Worlds and Paris, I was scared. This was where I would be living. This was it. I was on my own. That night I went out to get pizza for dinner, and it was my last taste of cheesy, greasy food for a long time.
I swear the first few weeks were designed to kill us . . . either that or the altitude really got to me. The OTC, based in Colorado Springs, is 6,557 feet above sea level and is meant to create a more difficult training atmosphere. Some days I’d be winded from just walking from my room to the pool. All I did during those first few weeks was eat, sleep, and swim. It was intense and exhausting, and I loved every second. I loved competing with the other Para-athletes, and I didn’t want to let my new coach, Dave “Davo” Denniston, down. In fact, during the second week, I didn’t even tell my co
ach I had bronchitis, because I didn’t want to miss a single practice.
I worked hard on my room to make it feel like a home away from home. I had a huge zebra picture above my bed, a bunch of circle mirrors strategically placed on one wall, and blackout curtains to block the sun for my recovery naps between practices. My only job was to swim—and swim fast. I quickly learned that the workouts would only get harder. We had something called “hell week” every month, where our practices would intensify and we were all pushed to our limits both mentally and physically. At the end of each hell week, my friend Anna Johannes and I would treat ourselves to a chocolate feast at the Melting Pot. Sometimes, looking forward to that tradition was the only thing that kept me going during hell week.
My dad took this picture of me diving into a race. I’ve been blessed to have such a supportive family who tried to come to as many swim meets as they were able to.