Why I Retired: The Real Story Behind My Decision to Walk Away

The End of an Era

I’ve been surprised recently to see that many people weren’t actually aware that I retired from diving. I’ve had a few messages asking, “Wait, you retired?” and “Why now?” and even a “But you’re still so young, bro!” (Thanks—I’ll take that.)

So, I figured it was time to answer the question properly: how did I know it was time to retire, and why did I step away when I did?

Let’s dive in. (Pun fully intended.)

🦵🏽 1. My Body (and a Few Other Things) Told Me So

After my knee injury in 2022, I said to myself: “Give it 18 months. Go all in. Get to Paris. Then call it.” And in the most uncharacteristically cooperative plot twist—that’s exactly what happened.

But here’s the honest truth: even before I stepped onto the board for competition in Paris, I was done. My body was cooked. My brain was over it. The idea of doing another pre-season a few months later made my soul cry. Diving is precise. Especially at my size—I don’t have the margin for error that others might. I had to be close to perfect, every single day. That requires relentless mental focus. And after 13 years? That battery was empty.

To add to it, my coach was moving on to a new role post-Paris. That meant I’d need to find a new coach, new environment, new everything. And honestly? I didn’t have the energy or the will to start over again.

🔑 Key takeaways:

• Your body speaks. When you stop listening, you start breaking.

• Burnout isn’t weakness—it’s a signal. One that often shows up before you want to admit it.

• When your passion becomes a chore, it’s time to re-evaluate your why.

💰 2. I Needed to Start Earning a Living

Let’s talk money. I’ve been competing internationally for over a decade. Total prize money across 13 seasons? $8,000. Not a typo, it’s a tough world. Sponsorship? Not much more.

To keep going, I had to work—coaching, speaking, social media, whatever I could fit around training. But diving at the elite level requires full commitment, at least it does from my perspective. It’s not a side hustle. And yet, to survive, sometimes I had to treat it like one.

There’s a moment every athlete reaches where the life you’re living isn’t sustainable anymore. I loved being a professional athlete, but staying in that lifestyle would’ve meant devaluing the rest of my human life. I was tired of living, hand-to-mouth, in survival mode preparing for battle. I wanted more—and not just financially. I wanted freedom.

🔑 Key takeaways:

• Passion is powerful, but it doesn’t pay the rent.

• When your time to recover becomes your time to work and hustle, something’s got to give.

• You can love your sport and still choose yourself. That’s not selfish—it’s smart.

🎯 3. There Was Nothing Left for Me to Achieve

Let’s be real—I did significantly more in diving than most people ever thought I would. Three Olympic Games. The first male diver for Jamaica. A World Cup and Pan Am Games silver medal. Not bad for a 6ft-something dude doing a sport made for 5ft-nothing gymnasts (respectfully).

But here’s the thing: I never made an Olympic final, I never won an international gold medal. And no matter how hard I trained, someone else was always better on the day. Occasionally, that was hard to accept. But eventually, I had to. I hit my ceiling. I gave it everything. I just wasn’t quite good enough to go further—and that’s okay.

Could I have pushed for LA 2028? Maybe. But at what cost? Mentally, emotionally, physically, financially… I knew what the next four years would demand, genuine blood, sweat, and tears. And I knew for me, it wouldn’t be worth it to go through all that again. Not when the outcome wasn’t even guaranteed.

🔑 Key takeaways:

• Knowing when to stop is just as important as knowing how to push.

• There’s no shame in accepting your limits. Only power in owning them.

• Achievement isn’t always measured in medals. Sometimes it’s in the barriers you break just by showing up.

🔁 Conclusion: Knowing When to Let Go Is the Ultimate Act of Self-Belief

I didn’t retire because I gave up. I retired because I believe in what comes next. I believe I can impact the world in so many positive ways beyond the diving board. I believed that chasing excellence didn’t have to mean chasing exhaustion.

For me, self-belief isn’t just about staying the course—it’s about choosing the course. And sometimes, choosing to end one chapter is exactly what makes the next one possible.

🗣 Over to you…

• Have you ever had to walk away from something you loved?

• What helped you know it was time to move on?
  👇🏾 I’d love to hear your thoughts. Drop a comment, share this with a fellow high performer, and tell me what topic you'd like me to tackle next.