When you are born in a small place like Saint Lucia, the road to travel is greater than elsewhere.

It takes more effort.

It takes more imagination.

It takes more planes. More trips. More phone calls.

And it also takes more sacrifices. More doubts. More sleepless nights.

It takes so many more things, to have the opportunity to compete with the others.

To play on equal terms with them.

Because the place where you come from is smaller.

More distant.

More lonely.

And above all, in that place, there is no one capable of showing you the way, of showing you how to do something. Especially something big.

Especially something that no one has ever managed to do before you.

The first.

I was the first to do so many things, in the course of my life.

The first World medal for my country.

Then the first Olympic medal.

The first woman ever to run under 7 seconds, in the 60 meters.

The first to leave as a teenager and then return as a woman, with a national holiday that now bears her name.

And yet, despite this, when I look back and think about the journey I have made so far, it was not ambition that guided me, because the only certainty I have is that I have never looked at the destination.

Never.

Not even once.

But I have always and only looked for a reason to keep going, day after day.

A reason, season after season, to put one step after another, one training session after another, even when things didn't work out the way I wanted.

Even when I thought the failure was definitive.

A feeling I have often felt, ever since I was just a child.

When my father passed away, I couldn't say goodbye to him.

And that moment of emptiness and silence is immortalized forever inside me: a half-memory, impossible to remove and impossible to complete.

Suspended in time.

Like an unanswered question.

I was used to not seeing him often.

He didn't live with us.

Because existence, at times, was a struggle for him.

And everyday life could be a puzzle too hard to put together.

But there were days when he came home, spent time with me and accompanied me to my trainings. Those were beautiful days.

Not being able to say goodbye to him taught me to show appreciation for loved ones, whenever I can. And, at the same time, it pushed me not to depend too much on others, but to rely only on my own strength.

To be able to be alone.

Now I know that the World is not a bad place, and I know that I am surrounded by special people, like my family, my agent, and my coach.

But the first times I left my space, my land, I often found myself alone.

Almost cuddled by my solitude.

At 14, after winning the Under 15 title of Central America and the Caribbean, I was offered a scholarship to go to Jamaica.

The land of sprinters: it was the opportunity of a lifetime.

And so I went.

I remember my mother's farewell, before leaving.

She had left me a note.

“Keep working hard. See you soon.”

Soon.

Well, not so much.

A whole year passed before I could see her again.

I had to learn a new culture from scratch.

Adapt to rhythms and ways that were not mine.

I suffered a lot, locked in my bedroom.

I did little, besides training.

I didn't go out, I didn't interact, I didn't take care of my mental health in any way.

Now I know.

Mom always told me to hold on, that "there was a light in the tunnel".

To be patient.

It was a very difficult and yet fundamental moment, because without it I would never have understood my physical and mental value. I would never have been able to forge my character and prepare myself for what awaited me next.

I don't know if I would do it again.

Certainly not like this, not without my family.

Not without protection.

Yet everything contributed to the construction of the present moment, even the difficulties, because the years before the 2024 Paris Games were anything but easy for me. And having lived experiences like that in the past, has prepared me to manage the pain.

The doubts.

The complications.

Between 2019 and 2021, injuries and COVID slowed my growth.

The following year was decent in terms of results, but I struggled enormously to truly believe in myself.

The year after that, things started to go better, but I couldn't manage the right approach to the Budapest World Championships.

This is why the Paris Olympics were truly the perfect moment.

The sum of all the mistakes and all the falls.

Of all the loneliness and shortcomings.

Of all the brave choices and all the people who have remained by my side, always.

From the day of my first practice, in Saint Lucia to the celebration for the Julien Alfred Day.

10 seconds and 72 hundredths, but more than twenty years long.

Dense as loneliness and light as true love.

Landing on top of the Moon, right on the World’s shoulder.

But yet, always waiting for the next flight home.