My speedskating baggage had been like a latent viral infection, until one little triggering event activated a cascade of raging catharsis.


During the early years of my comeback, I wasn't sure how to deal with my issues in the past, from being blackballed, to living through the Bid Scandal, to my self-destructive college years. Even by the time I had been through the Overtraining Experiment, I still kept everything inside and merely seethed internally. Eventually, it even became difficult to see certain people at the Oval when I came there to practice, but I still tried to convince myself that focusing on my training and trying to stay positive would be enough to get me through.

In the world of speedskating, people try to tell you that you must maintain a positive attitude at all cost, even if it means pretending that everything is OK, when it really is not. This did not work for me. During my years of "cease-fire" with US Speedskating, I felt slightly diseased, as if I were a cell carrying a lingering, latent viral infection. It was like I was not functioning at 100%, but at the same time, my immune system was not able to recognize and eliminate the invader.

Then, out of the blue, at the 2005 World Sprint Championships, came the proclamation from USS President Andy Gabel: "Nobody cares about Eva Rodansky!" Now, we can argue until we're blue in the face about whether he really said it or not, but all we have to deny it is the word of the two passengers he had in the back seat of his car (who were probably talking to each other at the time).

You may not believe it, but this statement was my salvation. Though I did not know it at the time, this was exactly what I had been waiting for. Strike 3, you're out: Blackball, Overtraining Experiment, "Nobody cares." All of a sudden, after years of hiding itself and my own attempts to bury it, the viral antigen had popped out onto the surface of the cell, and my immune system said, "A-ha!! There it is. DESTROY IT."

Surprisingly, rather than hurting my career, the Gabel comment and my reaction to it has been cathartic. I am no longer holding it all inside. I am no longer this cringing thing that walks around thinking, "They couldn't have done anything wrong. They only want what's best for the athletes! Focus on the positive!" Or worse, trying to convince myself that it is only my perception of their actions that is wrong, not the actions themselves.

Finally, I was free to tell all; from the way my premature, forced "retirement" at age 18 affected subsequent years of my life, to an all-out criticism of their current sponsorship and logo decisions, to some of the favoritism and blackballing that I still see happening to this day.

In doing so, my writing has come to the attention of a variety of people, from future Olympians to former speedskaters who have been screwed over in the past. By talking to people, and via email, I've heard how many former skaters relate to my story because something very similar had happened to them. It is not necessary to think that USS is evil; just know that it is valid to question why so many people who truly love this sport end up marginalized or ostracized.

Andy Gabel's comment, "Nobody cares about Eva Rodansky," gave me instant freedom from my own sense of guilt over my negative feelings towards USS. After all they had done to me, this was the last straw. This insult clearly demonstrated that I owed them no more deference.

I had always wanted to be able to name and describe all of the things I experienced in this sport, so that my path through it, though not necessarily as pleasant as that of the USS favorites, it could at least be as clear and as simple. Playing the political game and being "false friends" with USS for its so-called "support" is like walking on thin ice: You know it's only a matter of time before you fall through, and when you do, they'll turn and walk away.

I know I'm a polarizing person and that a lot of people absolutely hate my guts, but it is better for me to know EXACTLY WHERE the solid ground is. I would much rather have the solid support of true friends and the best wishes of all whom I haven't met yet, but who believe in what I am doing.

The sport of speedskating needed someone who could think logically, wasn't afraid to speak out, and had enough of a chance at the sport to make people want to listen to their story. Metric speedskating does not belong to "Them." I know the definition of metric speedskating better than anyone else, because I beat it into my own head all the time. Metric speedskating is "me against the clock." They cannot stop me, and I am not afraid.