Travel is one of the most visible parts of an athlete’s life—and also one of the least understood.
From the outside, it can look exciting: new cities, international competitions, different rinks, and constant movement. And in some ways, it is. But when you’re living it season after season, the reality is more complex. Being on the road as an ice dancer can mean that you rarely are in one place long enough for it to feel like “home.”
Over time, I’ve learned that stability in this sport doesn’t come from location, but from the consistency you create within yourself, no matter where you are.
Redefining home as a concept and not a location.
One of the earliest shifts in my career was moving away from home to train full-time in Michigan. At the time, it meant leaving behind a familiar life—my family, friends, school, and other routines that made me feel comfortable – it also meant starting over in a completely new environment.
What I learned is that “home” doesn’t really disappear when you leave it. It just becomes something you rebuild in new places. Throughout the years, the rink, my training group, and the daily rhythm of practice started to feel familiar in its own way, and through those consistent variables, I felt like I built a sense of home.
Finding comfort in consistency.
One of the most important things I’ve learned is that routine doesn’t have to be tied to a place. It has to be tied to intention.
When everything around you is changing, the things you can control become anchors: warm-up habits, off-ice preparation, mental routines before competing, how you structure your day in a new environment. These small, repeatable actions create a sense of familiarity, even when nothing else is familiar.
And then there are the more personal anchors—the small pieces of “home” I intentionally bring with me. A dear friend I used to train with in Michigan gave me some advice that stuck with me throughout my entire career. She told me early on in my international competition experience to always bring something familiar with me when going to a competition. Over the years, this became a few different things – my pillow, a favorite candle, and a well-worn hoodie. It might seem simple, but those little pieces of comfort make a real difference. No matter what hotel room or training city I’m in, those familiar things help create a sense of consistency. It’s not about recreating home perfectly—it’s about giving yourself enough familiarity to feel grounded.
Home becomes people, not places.
When you’re traveling constantly, your definition of home starts to shift. It becomes less about a physical space and more about the people and relationships you carry with you.
In ice dance, that’s especially true. Your partner often becomes the most constant factor in an ever-changing environment. You also learn to appreciate small moments of connection—familiar coaches, teammates you train with on a daily basis that are at the same competition, or trainers and staff from your country’s federation that you see when you get to a new competition. Those become home in their own way.
Over time, I’ve learned that stability doesn’t have to mean staying in one place. Sometimes it just means learning how to carry your sense of home with you.
