By Kristen Bujnowski, Canadian Olympian | Bobsleigh Athlete | MechanicalEngineer | Master’s Student in Counselling Psychology
MY PROUDEST MOMENT IN SPORT
As a brakeman, I’ve had the privilege of representing Canada on the world stage. I’ve achieved Canadian records, won multiple World Championship medals, and stood on the podium after World Cups. In 2022, I was the top Canadian brakeman and helped our team finish 5th at the Beijing Olympics. My journey as a brakeman was not always easy, and my transition to a pilot has been anything but smooth.
My first time as a pilot in Park City, Utah, a track known as “easy,” was grueling. I struggled so much that the coaches eventually took me out of the race. It was one of those moments where I questioned everything – my abilities, my future in the sport, and my resilience. Months later, I lost the financial support of the team. But I wasn’t willing to give up.
I rented a truck and drove alone with a sled from Whistler to Park City. When I arrived, I realized there would be no coach to help guide me through. It was just me, my 165 kg sled, and the track.
The first five weeks were unremitting. I hit walls, smoked out of corners, and even crashed three times in a row. The physical and mental toll was exhausting. After seeing me struggle for days, track workers began offering help. They watched corners with me, discussed lines, and encouraged me.
By the time I left, I had a better understanding of the track, but I was far from good. Still, I knew I was improving, and that kept me going.
The following season, I found myself back in Park City. My driving had improved, but I was still performing poorly in races. When my team showed up for race week, I felt a mix of nerves and pressure. Everyone assumed I would do well because I had trained there last year. But in the back of my mind, I couldn’t shake the doubts. I hadn’t been good last year. Why would things be any different now?
I paid for extra training runs before race week. My first run down the track that day was a revelation. I didn’t touch a single wall. When I reached the bottom, I was overwhelmed with joy and relief. I finally felt like I had finally broken through.
Just as I was riding that high, we received a message. Due to equipment issues, there wouldn’t be enough sleds for the Canadian pilots, and based on my performance up to that point, I wouldn’t be racing. I was devastated.
I spent some time feeling sorry for myself, but I knew there had to be a solution. I found out there was a monobob in Park City that wasn’t being used. I reached out, completed my first wire transfer, and rented the sled for the week.
To my surprise, not only did I set a start record, but I won the race. One of the track workers who had helped last winter presented the medals. In front of the entire crowd, he shared how proud he was to see me come back and win after witnessing my struggles the year before.
That moment is one I carry with immense pride. It wasn’t about the medal or the record but the journey. It was about proving to myself that I could get back up after every fall and keep going, even when no one was watching.
That victory symbolizes resilience, determination, and the quiet strength that grows in the hardest moments. And it’s a reminder that success often comes when we’re willing to keep pushing through our lowest points.
Originally published in IGNITE V9.
