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- As the novel coronavirus
continues to spread worldwide

from its starting point
in Wuhan, China...

- 400,000 diagnosed cases
of COVID-19 across the globe.

- Another tragic
milestone today:

the most reported
coronavirus deaths

in a single day...

- Closing
almost all businesses...

- Shows a record-shattering

6.6 million Americans filed
for unemployment benefits...

- More of the world's
biggest sporting contests

canceled or postponed.

- Tokyo 2020 organizers

and the International
Olympic Committee

bowing to global pressure.
- The prime minister announced

the 2020 Summer Olympic Games

will be postponed
until summer 2021.

- The summer of 2020
was supposed to be the summer

of the Tokyo Olympic
and Paralympic Games...

More than 15,000 athletes

from over 200 countries
coming together,

all of them eager
to realize the dreams

they had chased
since they were kids.

The venues were built.

The tickets were sold.

The athletes were ready.

And then...

all of our lives
were turned upside down,

and the Olympics
were postponed

for the first time ever.

Now, the Games getting delayed
pales in comparison

to the tragedies
that COVID-19 would cause

all over the world,

but the impact wasn't just
on people's physical health.

It was also dangerous
for our mental health.

Fear, uncertainty, disruption,

isolation:

all of that was very real
for millions of people.

Mental health was something

I had been thinking about
a lot

long before the virus hit.

With the 2020 Games
approaching,

the first Olympics
I wouldn't be a part of

since I was 11 years old,

I found myself looking back
on the highs and lows

and how close I came
to losing it all.

And then when the Games
were postponed,

what I thought about
was the mental health

of all the athletes
who had worked so hard

and now had to pick up
the pieces

with everything changed.

We should've all been watching
the Olympics together

in the summer of 2020,

but instead,
I'd like to tell you

about our journeys
to the dream

and how much more there can be
to all of our stories,

there and back.

- You broke more than 25
national age group records.

You got the world championship
coming up.

What more do you want
to accomplish?

- I guess my long-term goal is

to win the gold medal in Athens

and go in more than one event.

So I mean, I have
a lot of goals,

but I think that I just want
to take it day by day.

When you're an Olympian,

you like to think
that your story

is different
from all of the others,

but really...

- Put your hands together
for Jeremy Bloom!

- They all pretty much
start the same.

- I want to go to the Olympics

and win a gold medal
in skiing.

- My goal is to, like,
go to the Olympics,

be on the Olympic team.

- And the goal
that I wanted to reach

was to be at the Olympics

and really compete
with all the great skaters.

- At some point or another,

all of us get
this idea in our heads:

we can make it
to the Olympics.

- A good run!

- And everything
just goes from there.

- I'd always watch
the Olympics with my parents,

like, "Wow, this is
the highest level there is."

That's how my mom
explained it to me.

My parents, my mom and my dad,
had sat me down.

They're like, "This is--
it doesn't get

"any higher than this.

"This is the Olympics.
That's it.

"These athletes have worked
their entire lives

"for this moment,

"and that's why they go
to the greatest lengths

to try and win."

I just remember being awestruck
by that.

- Growing up
in a single-parent household

and having the type of energy
that I did,

whether you call it ADHD,

you call it, you know,
just raw energy

that can't be tapped
in any capacity,

the only thing
that my dad saw

that could potentially
redirect my energy

into something positive
was sport,

and he was right.

- Well, I was born and raised
in Park City, Utah,

pretty much
the Adventure Town, USA.

I started skiing
when I was two years old,

which was pretty awesome.

I have pictures of it.

I don't remember
my first time skiing,

but winter sports has always
been kind of my thing.

- I started skating
when I was eight.

We get on the ice,

and I just kind of love it
right away.

I didn't perceive myself
as being, like,

amazingly talented,

but I was aware
that I was better

than, like,
some of the other kids,

and it just really rapidly
snowballed from there.

- He's called
a typical 15-year-old teenager

by his coach,
except for one small detail:

Michael Phelps is one
of the fastest swimmers

in the world.

- None of us
had normal childhoods per se.

- 26-0-0.

Boy, that first lap
is really good.

- Nobody who is going
to expend that kind of effort

to achieve that kind of goal

is going to be
just like everybody else.

- I certainly think
this is just the beginning.

He's certainly not as strong
as he's gonna get,

and we have limited
his training,

so it's not even near
where he's gonna be.

- Now, there are good sides
to that,

and there are bad sides
to that.

For me, I don't want to say

I would've done anything
differently

if I could do it
all over again.

I was competitive.
I was hungry.

I loved it.
I chose it.

But the truth was
that my focus

got incredibly narrow
and intense really quickly,

which would have ramifications
later in life...

- Arms forward.
Good, forward.

- Even if it wasn't possible
to realize that at the time.

- I don't think
that's an excuse

for not learning a skill.

- I didn't fucking say it was.

- Go ahead, put that
on the movie.

- Go ahead!
- Put your attitude

of excellence
right on there.

- One...
- You think and you operate

as if everything revolves
around this sole focus,

and that sole focus
is the Olympics.

Everything else
is secondary,

so your relationships,
your school,

your family,
your other friends,

everything that's not catered

to you performing
at the highest level in sport,

it's a nonstarter conversation.

- 13-year-old Sasha Cohen.

- For me,
it wasn't a sacrifice.

Everything else in life
was an obstacle

that I wanted to push aside.

I didn't want to spend time
with friends.

I didn't want to go to school.

I wanted to do
everything I could

to be the best skater I could.

- It's more of, like,
a lifestyle.

It's how I lived.

Any little step I could take,

anything to get the edge
or advantage

over my competitors
and to win.

My world was based on that
for sure.

- I went five
or six years straight,

365 days a year.

The difference
between great and good:

I think the greats do things
when they don't always want to,

and I think that's
what makes them great.

I looked up to Jordan forever.

That guy probably didn't want
to play basketball every day.

He's the GOAT.

Peyton,
he didn't have to study film

for thousands and thousands
of hours.

He did it because he wanted
to be great.

- Up!
Good.

- When I graduated high school,
I remember working out

like crazy

because I wanted
to be an athlete.

Everyone's like, "Oh, my gosh,
you work out so much,"

and I was like, "It's nothing
compared to the Olympians."

When I first got
into skeleton,

I ended up on my own at 16,

being offered
a free place to live, food,

and a potential scholarship

for whatever school
I could try to get to.

Was not really a hard choice--

go to the Olympics
or go to college--

and I basically chose sport
over academics.

I started winning everything.

It was addicting.
It was fun.

I just got sucked in.

- I didn't develop
outside interests.

I had a very singular focus
on my sport

and on figure skating.

It was like a compulsion.
It was necessary.

- Most of my career,

I was driven purely
by a fear of failure,

so, unlike a lot of athletes

who are driven
by "I want to win,

I want to be the champion,"

I was driven purely

that I felt
that I was inadequate.

I wasn't the best guy
on the ice.

I wasn't the guy who was
the most talented genetically,

physically gifted.

I could probably say
I was the hardest worker,

and I did the most amount
of time in the sport,

because of my obsession
with "it wasn't good enough."

Every day wasn't good enough.

For 15 years,
I lived that life.

It was like,
"I have to be here,

"because there's someone else
on the other side of the world

"who's younger than me,
that's better than me,

"that just overall
is superior to me

"in every single capacity,

so I have to find a way
to win."

- After all that time
you put in--

the early mornings,

the countless laps in the pool
or around the track

or rink or whatever--

when you finally go
to an Olympics,

I think the only word
that you can use

to describe it

is "overwhelming."

You've basically been training
your whole life

for this one moment,

and you know
it's not coming around again

for another four years,
if ever.

That's absolutely
all in your head.

And then throw in the fact
that it's all unfolding

in front of the entire world?

Like I said, overwhelming.

- First Olympics,
I was extremely nervous.

It met my expectations
in the fact

that I knew it was
the biggest stage

that I would perform
in my life,

and just
those overwhelming emotions

and just completely was
an amazing experience.

You felt like everything
was special,

and you're trying
to take it all in.

As a track and field athlete,
I had no clue if I'd ever make

another Olympic team.

Most track and field athletes
only make one team,

so I just wanted to make
the most of the experience.

- My first Olympics,

I was 19 and the number one
ranked skier in the world,

and, you know,
"Sports Illustrated"

picked me to win
the Olympic gold,

and I was beyond nervous.

I mean, it was paralyzing.

- It's a whirlwind.

It's nothing
like any competition

I'd ever been to before.

It was inspiring;
it was amazing

to sit with all
these other athletes

around the world
and, like, eat your breakfast.

I mean, it was just
like this glow,

this sort of vibe
while you were there.

- It completely blew my mind.

Flags from every country.

There was so much excitement
and buzz.

It was on no other level

that I can compare
to anything in my life.

You get
on an Olympic venue bus,

and you go to the arena
to compete,

and you have
this kind of epiphany

that, when you get back
on this bus again tonight,

like, your fate
will have been sealed.

Something will be written
into history

that can never be unwritten
or rewritten.

And it's just a bus ride,

but it's like,
the enormity of it is huge.

- It's all they've done

for the past ten years,
and now,

for the next 40 seconds
of our human lives,

this moment will dictate

whether they have a gold...

or not.

- Phelps, the greatest
of all time, iconic figure,

writes his way
into the history books

yet again.

- So then it's over.

- Steve Holcomb
has raced for gold!

- And however it ends...

- There will be no medals
of any color for Jeremy Bloom.

- The bigger point
is that it's over,

everything you've worked for
in the rearview mirror,

and reckoning with that

is something that unites
all Olympians,

whether you ended up
on top of the podium...

or in total disbelief.

- Oh, that's a foul.

- I fell twice
in the first 30 seconds

of my long program.

- And another step out.

- I was shell-shocked.
I was devastated.

I was just, like, stunned.

And not only are you having
all these feelings,

but you are having
all these feelings

while the entire world
is singularly focused on you.

And you hear with every fall
just a...

"Oh,"

or, like, just, like, the hush.

You already have
all those feelings,

and then this, like--

the most dramatic
sound effects

that are, like, laid down,
the soundtrack

to this, like, devastating
30 seconds of your life.

This was my Olympics,
you know.

It was not the performance
I wanted to give,

but I ended up
with a silver medal.

It's very hard to know
what you're capable of,

and sometimes
circumstances in life happen,

and you have to do
the best you can,

and sometimes
timing sucks, right?

- Unless you're
an Olympic athlete,

it's difficult to understand,

when you fail
at the Olympics,

what a big deal that is.

From an outside perspective,
you could say, "Oh, big deal.

"You're an Olympian.

Like, people have
bigger problems,"

and that is true,

but for Olympians,

that's your life.

That's really
what defines you.

- In that 2002 Olympic
500-meter final

in men's long track,

the difference
between gold medal,

recognized, celebrated,
and fourth place

is this difference.

Four guys just went by
in that time frame,

and you worked
an entire lifetime for that.

The difference is,

the guy who won, we celebrate;
we look to; we love.

The guy in fourth, you never
hear from that person.

He disappears.
He dissipates.

He becomes a civilian.

It's gold and then what?

- So with all the hype
surrounding Bode Miller

coming in here
to possibly medal

in all five events,

he will not have a medal
at all.

- Mainstream media,

especially in America
but really everywhere,

they love that feeling
of building somebody up

because that gives them control
over the situation.

You know, they pump them up,
pump up expectations,

and then it's good news,
it's good content

if they can chop their legs
out from under them

and see a hero
come crashing down.

It's good for everybody's ego.

Everybody likes to read
about that stuff.

- This just in,
ladies and gentlemen:

Bode Miller
has just tested negative

for gold medals.

- And then
to build them back up,

then you have this underdog,

the hero reborn.

There's just a lot of
natural flow to that pattern.

- Bode Miller, everybody!

- I've gone through it
enough times

to know what it looks like
from the inside.

- Check that out.

- In '05 when I won
the overall,

I was the golden boy,

and even though
I was rebellious

and they knew my patterns,
they knew all my stuff--

wasn't like I wasn't
having fun or partying

or going out--
they sort of covered it up

and made it
so they could refine

the picture of the hero
on the top,

and then they were
setting it up

so that if I did well,
they'd have something else

in the Olympics, and instead,

I didn't do as well
as I could've,

and they cut the legs out.

- Bode Miller is 0 for 5.

- Failing to do well in races
always sucks.

I mean, it was my life,

and I had
a huge opportunity there,

and, you know,
that just is annoying

from a personal standpoint.

I think every athlete
would relate to that.

- I was running
the best races of my life,

the best times of my life.

And I hit one hurdle,

and it cost me
the Olympic gold medal.

- Lolo Jones
has the lead,

but she hit
the hurdle.

She hit hurdle
number nine,

the next-to-last hurdle.

Lolo Jones hit the hurdle

and did not get a medal.

- In my life,

I've probably hit a hurdle
three times.

I'm talking about training,
races, practices.

And now I'm known
as a girl who hits hurdles.

- She looked to have
the gold in her pocket.

- I got ripped
across the media,

like, "Oh, she had
all these sponsors.

How could she not medal?"

Like, "She's such
a freaking flop."

It was so overwhelming,

and I had no one to talk to.

I would be washing dishes,

like, months later,
and I'd think about it,

and I'd literally be frozen,

like, "What could I have
done differently?"

I'd be walking
in the grocery store,

day's going fine, and then
someone would come up to me:

"Oh, I feel so bad
for what happened."

- It was painful to see
my family's reaction to it,

what they had to go through.

I think that's
what hurt the most

was seeing my image
tarnished in their eyes,

that I shouldn't be allowed
back in the country,

that I was, you know,

the most disgraceful
Olympic athlete ever

in the history of the world.

Your Q rating is where they
tell 1,000 people your name.

Do they recognize the name?

Do they have a favorable
or an unfavorable opinion

of your brand or your name?

My Q rating was lower
than Mike Tyson, who had...

- What happened here?
- Bit off Holyfield's ear

or O.J. Simpson,
who at the time

had a double murder and ran.

- Could you imagine?

Like, let's say
you get a divorce

and then everywhere you go
in public,

someone's like,
"Oh, I feel so bad for you.

I heard you got that divorce."

Happened so many times,

and I had no one
to help me through that.

- It's nice to get home.

The celebration
kind of continues.

People are so happy.
They're so proud.

They show their support.

- The fans lined York Road
for hours,

ready to get
an up-close look

at their hometown heroes.

- He's adorable!
- Look at the face.

- I want to be just like him.

- And then
it kind of dies down.

Then you basically get
in that part

where you're either like,

"Am I gonna put myself
through this

"for four more years,

or am I gonna find
something else to do?"

And we're lost.

I think that's where
a lot of it really comes from

is, we're just so lost,
'cause we spent four years

grinding for that one moment,

and now we don't know
what the hell to do.

I think it's probably safe
to say

that a good 80%, maybe more,

go through some kind
of post-Olympic depression.

- After the Olympics,

the village doors close,

and then that's kind of it.

So all the media's gone.

All the exposure's gone.

Before the 2008 Games,

I remember one of the coaches

specifically on the dive team.

This was
my first Olympic Games,

something I'd dreamed of
since I was seven years old,

and he had said,
"Don't be surprised

after the Olympics
for the post-Olympic blues."

I was 19, and I was like,

"Yeah, yeah, yeah,
I think I'm better

than that happening."

- After every Olympics,
win or lose,

I felt, like,
a dramatic emptiness,

just because your whole world
is built around this one day

and you're putting
so much on it,

so much expectation
and pressure

and interviews and,

"What am I gonna do next?"

And you're plotting out
this course of your life.

After every Olympics,
there's this incredible crash.

Nothing really matters
as much anymore.

Like, "Oh, I guess
I can stay up all night,

"'cause we're not competing.

You know, I guess I'll have
an extra slice of cheesecake."

I remember trying to compete
after the Olympics, and...

it was awful.

I had no motivation.

Like, well,
what does this matter?

Like, what is this
compared to the magnitude

of what I had
just accomplished?

Just like anybody,
if you travel the world

with a bunch of friends,
like, leaving summer camp,

whatever,
you come home, and you're like,

"Wow."

"Now what?"

Like, it's just, like, quiet,

and then you kind of feel like,

"Well, what did I do wrong?

"Like...what happened?
Is it--like...

where did everyone go?"
You know?

Like, you're happy to be home,

but it's just this, like,
isolated, cut-off feeling.

- Why do you think so many
of the athletes get depressed

when they come home
from the Olympics?

- I think it's something
that all human beings

are susceptible to,

and with athletes,
it's even more so, I think,

because we have
such a great ability

to hyper-focus.

So if you are incentivized
and you're focused on winning

or you're focused on being
the best you can

at this one thing

and you're putting all you have
into that

without any other balance,

when that ends

and then you're out
of the fight-or-flight mode

of, like, "I have to perform,
I have to perform,"

you get left wondering, like,

what do you do
with your energy?

I feel like we forgot
about how human Olympians are

and the needs we need
as human beings.

It's not about winning.
It's not about performance.

Granted, that would--
that's all great,

but what about
our mental health?

What about our families?
What about our education?

What about after sport?

And when you've spent
all this time

and it ends,

it'd be really hard
not to become depressed.

- Ladies and gentlemen,
please welcome Shaun White!

- So many things change
after an Olympics,

and the better you do,

the more famous you become...

- Sasha, let's see that smile!

- And the more
your life changes.

- Your two-time Olympian
Lolo Jones.

- And look at me.
Beauty.

- But even if you become
one of the success stories,

it all comes with a catch.

Because if your whole life
was about building up

to one race, one performance,

or one event,

how does that sustain

everything that comes
afterwards?

Sure, you can chase it again.

Just go back to the grind
for another four years.

But ultimately,
that doesn't sustain.

And eventually--
for me, at least--

there was one question

that hit me
like a ton of bricks.

Who was I
outside of the swimming pool?

- We are Olympic athletes,

and we're not really sure

if we're anything else.

I think
the die-hard skating fans

or Olympic fans
will always recognize you

if you walk down the street,

you know, even if
it's ten years later,

because you were
such a big part of their life

and they're
such passionate Olympic fans,

but I think,
for most of the public,

you know, they've got
very busy lives.

They, like, tune in,
they're excited,

they cheer, and then
they kind of forget, you know?

I'd say one Olympic cycle
out from your Olympics,

you're pretty far removed.

- I don't think a lot
of athletes understand

that there's always
a whole line of people

waiting to be the next one.

You know, at the time, they
think they're irreplaceable,

that they're
breaking records, they're,

you know,
making all the money,

they're getting praise
from everybody,

and then when they retire,
they expect it to really be

like the sport misses them

and like, "Oh, man,
like, there they go,"

and in reality,
it's like, "Bye,"

and then there's, like--
the new dude

basically rolls in.

I think that,
from an ego standpoint,

hurts a lot
of athletes' feelings

and hurts
their emotional stability.

- It's almost like
a conveyor belt of athletes,

that, like, you're doing
really well,

you're doing really well,
they keep you healthy,

but, like, when you're done,
you're off the conveyor belt.

Like, that's--they just have
new athletes

from every sport

coming in all the time.

- When you're
a younger athlete,

they love you.

You're the new, fresh face.

They want to promote you.

They want to put you
out there.

They want everybody
to fall in love with you.

But after you've been
to a few Olympics,

you know, you'll see,

it kind of weans out.

- You are in the business of...

finding the latest
and the greatest athletes,

extracting the best performance
out of them,

and then going back
to the trough

to look for the latest
and greatest athletes

and doing it over again,
time and time again.

- It's so funny, because...

The longer you're here,

you just--you're like,
"Oh, that's my replacement."

"We got Sydney McLaughlin:

"19 years old, marketable.

"Social media's on fire.

"And, Lolo, that's your exit.

Please go right."

Motherfucker.

- Think the system is set up
for high turnover,

one, and two,
the manner in which

the funds and services
are distributed

are incentivized.

- Big drive.
Nice.

- So if you're a federation
that can win medals,

you get funding;
if you're not, you get cut,

not just
the federation's funding

but also the salaries
and the coaching,

so it's hard, I think,
for those people, then,

to see the athletes
as individuals.

- Oh!
Ooh.

- The reality
of funding for athletes

in this country
might surprise you.

Stipends for training
are minimal,

and so most Olympic hopefuls
just try to stay afloat

while chasing their dream.

Like, for every athlete
with a sponsor,

there are hundreds who need
to take a second job

just to make ends meet
while they train.

- I grew up watching
the '96 Atlanta Olympics,

and I've watched
the, you know, gymnastics team,

and you had
the track and field athletes

in all this glory.

They're on every cover
of every magazine,

and you're thinking,

"They're financially stable.
They have to be, right?"

And then fast-forward
to my future,

me trying to be
an Olympic athlete,

and I'm living
off of $7,000 a year.

- The whole thought
that going to the Olympics,

and especially if you win
a medal,

sets you up for life

is such horseshit.

- Even if you're in
a marquee sport

and you do so well,

you have a limited window

to capitalize on

and to pay back training bills,

and, you know,
try to earn some money,

but for most athletes,
there's no money.

There's no money at all.

- Let's only talk
about Olympic athletes

from the United States.

How many golds do you have?

Because if you're silver,
you're not making money.

You're bronze,
you're not making money.

You didn't medal?

I don't even know
your name, pal.

Go back to the end
of the line, okay?

Out of the gold medals,

how many of those are actually
being concentrated on

by corporate America
to be hired

by speaking engagements
or sponsorships?

You got such a small amount
of people

who are actually making money,

and that moneymaking
opportunity

has a life cycle...

Lettuce, tomato,
jalapeño peppers.

You gotta try it.

I would say on average,

unless your family
is funding you

throughout this process,

which many do,

you are in debt
every single year you compete,

even with the amount
that you make.

- I'm in huge debt.

In the last quad,
I had to fund myself.

I had a small stipend,

but it's not sufficient.

Like, $750 a month,

$1,250 a month.

- I've had years
where I can make a killing,

and then I've had years
where--I mean, bobsled,

my check was $725
for the whole season.

Tell me how I live
off of that.

As an Olympic athlete,

so I've been a hostess
at a restaurant.

I was--I worked
at Home Depot.

I think it was
the most shocking

when I was working at the gym

and I was making smoothies
for people

and my track race played...

and I'm literally
making somebody a smoothie,

and they're like, "Is that you?
Like, why are..."

They couldn't get it.

Like, do you see, like,

any football player
go compete

and then they're
making smoothies

for people at a gym
for $7 an hour?

- I'll say I've been
extremely fortunate

to have a lot of support,

have a lot of sponsors.

If you're on the national team
for swimming,

you get $1,700 a month.

That's supposed to get you
through...

training expenses, so travel,
living expenses,

eating, car--all of the stuff.

It's hard.

I mean, if that's
the only thing that you have,

it's almost impossible.

- For me, I think I was
most scared after this year

and I didn't make the team

and literally got an email

saying my health insurance
was gonna be cut a month later,

and I was like,
"Are you kidding me?"

- When your financial security
is so closely linked

to your success,

the pressure to perform
adds up.

That pressure
is just something else

that can take a toll
on your mental health.

- USA bobsled
and the U.S. Olympic Committee

came to me, and it was like,

"Hey, look, you've
never actually won

"any sort of medal
in bobsledding yet.

"You're USA-1;
you're our top driver

"going into this next season.

"We really need you to do well.

If not, like,
we just can't support you."

All of a sudden now
the entire weight of...

the program is on my shoulders.

I'd better do well.

- Katie Uhlaender
from the United States,

24 years old,

out of Breckenridge,
Colorado, the two-time...

- 2008, when my father
was diagnosed with cancer

and I went on tour--

which for skeleton,
when we go on tour,

it's six months.

You are on the road
from October until April.

My dad understood,
and he told me to go compete

while he was sick.

But I got these emails
from my mom

saying he was not doing well;

like, I needed to come home.

I, like, turned to my coach
every time, and I said,

"I think I might need
to go home,"

and he said, "We can't."

And I said, "Why?"

And he goes, "'Cause you're
the only one we have.

We need you to make--
to get medals."

- Here she comes,

rocketing into 12th.

- So the first time,

I kind of, like,
didn't respond,

but then when I got
the second email

from my mom saying
he wasn't gonna make it...

I asked again.

And he gave me
the same answer.

And...it's really difficult
in that situation,

'cause I love the sport,
my father understood,

but I wanted to go home,

and it was just becoming
so difficult

to try to convince myself
and them

that I wanted to go,

but...when he--he did pass away
while I was competing,

and...

I don't think
that I ever got over that.

- In my case,

there were a lot
of warning signs

that I couldn't handle
the changes in my life

after my success
at the Olympics.

I definitely made
some bad decisions.

- Just a few months
after winning Olympic gold,

Michael Phelps was busted
for drunk driving.

- And then rock bottom came
in 2014,

and that put everything
that had come before

into perspective.

- 56th Street?
- Affirmative, 56th.

- Michael Phelps,

the most decorated Olympian
of all time,

has been arrested again
for DUI.

- I get pulled over,
go home that night.

I mean, I'm just a wreck,
a wreck.

Just sitting there
in that room,

didn't leave,

didn't drink water,
didn't drink anything,

didn't eat anything,

just sat in my room,
basically, curled up,

and cried.

I was like, "Well, this is
everything coming to an end

in front of my eyes."

And that's
where I was just like,

"Why don't I just end it all?"

In the end, I was fortunate

to have some great people
around me

and the resources
to get real help.

I checked in
to a treatment center,

turned my cell phone off,

and spent the next 45 days
rebuilding myself

from the ground up.

And then when I came back

and found myself
in a much better place,

there was
this other realization, too,

that I wasn't
the only Olympian

who felt the way I did.

- Post-2008,
I was so broken-down

that I would be driving
in my car

and I would just be like,
"I just hope a truck hits me.

"I just hope, like, a truck
hits me and wipes me out

and they don't get hurt
but I do, like, that I'm done."

I just would want to be gone.

I would fight
suicidal thoughts.

I would fight
sitting in my car,

just closing the garage doors
with the car on.

- Depression is--once it
kind of starts going,

it just puts you
into a spiral,

and you just start getting
deeper and deeper into it

and just end up
doing crazy things.

- I was like, "Why?
What's the point, man?

"What's the point of going
to the Olympic Games,

"what's the point
of sacrificing

"and training
all of these hours

if this is what I have
to show for it?"

That point, I remember, like,

how do I just make this
painless, quick,

and end my life?

Came to a couple
different plans,

and I don't think I ever got
to the point

where I felt confident enough

to act out a suicide, but...

Like, hanging myself?
No.

Shooting myself?

No idea how to get a gun.

And my best option
was driving so fast,

smoking myself
on a telephone pole.

I won't feel a thing.

But it's gonna be easier
for me to be done

with this life.

- May 2017 is when

I really started thinking
about, like, ending my life

because it was
almost unbearable.

I had a good day
if I got out of bed

before 11:00 or noon,

I wash my face,
I brush my hair,

I brush my teeth,

and, like, I left my apartment.

I was like, "I don't know
what's on the other side,

"but I think that that
would probably be better

than whatever I'm living
right now."

The only reason
I didn't kill myself

is because
my twin sister, Carly.

There's no way that I would
just leave her like that.

I was stuck
in that weird place

between not necessarily
wanting to die

but, like, I couldn't go on
as I was going

because I really just wanted
to live again

and, like, feel good things

and, like, see the world again

and, like, be involved
in my life.

It was like my life
was a snow globe

and I could look in
and I could see

everything that was happening

but I couldn't be involved
in it.

There's just, like, this wall
separating me

from the rest of the world.

- I went downstairs.

I just decided,
"You know what? This is time.

I have an opportunity here."

That's kind of the last thing
I remember.

What makes it scary is--
after the fact

is, you don't realize
all the people

that would've been crushed
and devastated.

I didn't tell anybody.

In fact, even after I won
the gold medal in Vancouver,

I still didn't tell anybody--
nobody.

That was a moment
between...me and God

or, you know, just me
and the bedroom,

and that was it.

There was...

Nobody else would get to know
or find out, ever.

And it wasn't
till I wrote my book

that I decided
people need to know.

And actually...

One of the big motivations was,

close friend of mine,
an athlete,

Jeret Peterson,
killed himself

about the time I was writing
my book,

and that's what triggered--
it was kind of like,

this is a big--this is
like an epidemic.

It's...not just him.

There's a lot of people
out there

that are suffering
through this.

- I grew up with Speedy.

Of course, he was
on the aerials team.

I was on the moguls team.

And we were the young guys
on the team.

I looked at him
like a carefree kid

that had so much fun.

He was always smiling.
He was always happy.

- And, Speedy, how did you
get that nickname?

- That nickname started
when I was 11 years old

when I went to my first camp.

I had a checkered life jacket

and a big racing helmet

that I borrowed
from my uncle...

- Oh, okay.
- And didn't really grasp

the concept of waiting in line,

and so I'd cut in front
of all the other campers

and get five jumps
in the time they got two.

- Okay, so it wasn't
a girlfriend.

- No, no, luckily.

She'd probably be
an ex-girlfriend.

- It wasn't until 2009,

when we were in Lake Placid

at the Olympic Training Center
for a World Cup,

and he said, "Hey, can I chat
with you for a second?"

And I said "Sure."

And we went to the TV room--
it was night;

it was dark;
there's no one around--

and he said,

"You know, I want to open up
to you for a second."

And I said,
"Sure, what's on your mind?"

He started crying,
and he said,

"Most days, I don't want
to be alive."

And I didn't know anything
about mental health

at that point.

I was so off-guard

because I think of Speedy
as somebody

who's always been so happy

and so successful,

and I didn't know
how to react,

and I just said,
"Speedy, look at you.

"You're so
incredibly successful.

"You're a good-looking kid.

"You have the wind
behind your sails.

Like, you know,
what's going on?"

And, you know, he just
really opened up to me,

and I often think
about that moment.

I wish I could go back
to it now,

because I think
I would've handled it

a lot differently
than I did.

- He was horribly depressed.

When he was young,
he was sexually abused.

His roommate took his life
with a gun,

and Jeret was witness
to that whole thing,

and from there on,
life was never the same.

And that was six months
before the Torino Olympics.

I didn't want him to go.

I begged him not to go,
but he insisted.

He was beside himself.

He didn't know
where to go, who to turn to.

He lost his identity.

He told me
that he didn't think

he was gonna be able
to hang on for very long

and to not be surprised.

- You fall to your knees,

and your heart just...shatters.

I'm not angry at him
for what he did.

The pain becomes
insurmountable,

and the pain
that he was having,

I know, 'cause I saw it.

Your spirit is crushed,

and it truly was unbearable
with him.

- I couldn't help but feel

a little bit responsible.

I couldn't help but feel like,
you know,

"What could I have done
differently?

"Who could I have talked to?

You know, is there something
I could've done more?"

That's something
I struggle with.

- You might be listening
to all of us talk

about our struggles
and wonder,

"Why don't you just get help?"

Well, there are
a lot of reasons,

and probably the biggest
is connected to what got us

to the top in the first place:

our conviction that we
can make ourselves unbeatable

if we just work at it,

our belief that there's no way
we should ever need help...

Our fear
that we'll become weak

if we show any vulnerability.

The stigma of having
mental health problems

is a huge issue
all across society,

how tough the issues are
to talk about

or even just acknowledge.

And Olympians
are definitely a group

who want to keep their pain
out of sight.

- It's very, very simple.

Athletes...

most likely
don't get help for...

depression

or, you know,
mental health issues

because they can't even admit
that it's an issue.

That is so fundamentally
at odds

with being a competitor.

This is war.
It's a game of strategy.

It's a game of maneuvering
and posturing.

You need to show the world
that you are strong.

You need to show
all your competitors

that you are strong.

And so if you were
to say, like,

"Oh, I have mental issues,"

like, that just cracks

the façade of trying
to show the world

that you're impervious.

- I was worried that people
would see me

as this fragile person,

somebody they didn't
want around

or, like, "Hey, you can't rely
on Holcomb,

"'cause who knows
what he's gonna think?

He's thinking crazy stuff,"

or, you know,
"He's mentally not fit

to be"--whatever.

You know, you don't want
the stigma of that

going around.

And so I didn't--I just--

I didn't tell anybody;
I kept that to myself.

- Athletes just don't talk
about our weaknesses.

We're tough.

We will hide anything from--
and especially if it's

a team environment,

'cause you don't want to let
someone know

what you're kind of
going through.

- The biggest thing
that I struggled with

is that from the outside,

it's like,
"You got everything.

Why aren't you happy
all the time, 24-7?"

- So if I had, like,
blown out my knee,

I know for a fact
I would've had

the top physical therapist,

the top surgeon, orthopedic,

like, absolutely whatever
I needed fixing my knee.

And I know that if I--

'Cause I mentioned, like,
one time before to someone

in the federation, like,

"I'm actually really
going through some, like,

"really dark shit right now,

and it's really interfering."

They said, "Oh, well,
you could, like, look up

a therapist in your area."

Being an Olympian
is advertised

as this amazing thing,

and they leave out
all of the side effects.

So let's say that you make it
to the Olympics.

Some side effects may include
an eating disorder,

depression,

anxiety, suicidal ideation,

almost, like, a disconnect
from the real world,

and then when all those
side effects do happen,

there's nothing in play

to, like, help you with those.

They kind of advertise
this, like,

"keeping our athletes healthy
and happy,"

and, like, they really
only deliver physically.

Everything else
is just kind of like,

"Oh, not our problem."

- I think
I can honestly say now,

sort of looking back
throughout my career,

I don't think
anybody really cared

to help us.

I don't think anybody
really jumped in

to ask us if we were okay.

As long as we were performing,

I don't think
anything else really mattered.

It's pretty unfortunate
to say,

pretty sad to say.

- I think the last thing
on my mind

was, like, "How can USA Diving

"and how can
the Olympic Committee

help me with this?"

They can help me
with my mental preparation

and they've done
a phenomenal job

of, how do I mentally
stay strong in my sport?

But not once
have I gotten wisdom:

how does David stay strong
outside of my sport?

- The problem is,
without fully understanding

who should be helping us,

it's hard to seek out
the right person,

'cause it seems
like psychologists

and sports psychologists,

like, everyone wants to work
with an Olympian

and have--you know, claim
credit for your performance,

but when it comes
to serious family issues

or mental health issues,

it's almost nonexistent.

- I'm just really frustrated
with the system,

and I think as I am more
on the tail end of my career,

that's where
it really becomes apparent.

- This is it.

I've said it before,

but you guys can say it.

This is the last time.

No matter
how your career goes

or how long it lasts,

there's one inevitable end

we all have in common:

retirement.

It's not really natural
to retire

when you're in your 20s
or 30s,

and when you've devoted
your life

to a pursuit
of such a singular goal

and then leave it all behind,

there's that giant question:

now what?

And even bigger:

who am I?

And the truth is,

there aren't tons of programs
in place

to help athletes
handle the emotions

of that transition.

- What is available to retired
Olympic athletes post-career?

I don't think
there's anything.

If you're talking
about third-party resources

that I'm aware of,
I don't think there's any.

There's none that I've used.

There's actually zero
that I have used

in 9 1/2 years
I've been retired.

There's no pension.
There's no bonus.

There's no stock option.

There's no job opportunity.

There's no more coach.

There's no more
training environment.

There's no more equipment.

There's no more
monthly stipend.

There's no more prize money.

Arguably, there's
no more sponsorship.

Yeah, that's reality.

- I'm really not aware
of anything that exists

for retired Olympians,

but I really feel like the bulk

of what
the U.S. Olympic Committee does

is to help fund hopefuls
getting to their dream.

- I will never regret
competing for Team USA

and this country,
absolutely not.

I have helped promote
the Olympic sports

for three Olympics.

I've given
my blood, sweat, and tears.

I've given my talent.

And all I'm asking is that
after it's all said and done,

someone can help me

mentally get through this.

- Losing Speedy Peterson
was a shock

for the entire
Olympic community,

but it wasn't
an isolated incident.

Steven Scherer,
a sport shooter

who represented the U.S.
in Beijing,

had taken his own life

less than a year
before Speedy's death.

Kelly Catlin won
a silver medal in 2016

as a part
of the U.S. cycling team

and then took her own life
in 2019.

Later that same year,
Jack Hatton,

a Team USA judoka,

took his life as well.

Nobody was prepared
for any of these tragedies,

but the news
that maybe hit the hardest

came in May of 2017.

- A shock in the world
of sports tonight.

The Olympic community

and bobsled fans
around the world

are mourning the death
of Steven Holcomb.

The Olympic champion
was found in his room

at Team USA's training center
in Lake Placid, New York,

this weekend.

The cause of his death

remains unclear.

- Steven Holcomb
was found in his room

at the Olympic training
center, unresponsive,

by his best friend,
Katie Uhlaender.

Steven was 37 years old.

- And I don't know
what was worse.

Finding him...

two days late,

you just, like...

Then realizing, like,

thinking he was asleep
and then realizing

there was nothing I could do,

and then thinking back
to the days

that I should've broken
into his room sooner.

How did I not
do something sooner?

And every time, like,
I would go to text him--

he's my best friend--

I would have, like,
a panic attack,

'cause my mind would go
straight back

to that moment
when I found him,

and I would realize
he was gone,

and then I would start
to wonder why.

- What else has to happen
for this to change?

What else?

I mean, we see, like...

Do five other athletes
have to take their lives

in order to see change?

Like, how far down the road
are we gonna get

before somebody
actually stands up and says,

"We have to do something,
and this is important"?

- I think there's no question
that Olympic athletes need

more support.

You know, the solution
to mental health issues

or really just
general support--

right now, we're just starting
to understand

how critical that is.

- I don't think that they're
maliciously ignoring

our well-being.

I just don't know
that if they realize

it's, like, a full,
like, crisis yet.

How many more dead Olympians
do they need

before they realize

that there might be
an epidemic here?

- I recently requested help
multiple times,

and I didn't get it,
and I can't figure out

if it was because
it would've taken me away

from competing for them

or if it was just,
they don't have the resources

or they don't know,
but regardless,

if you look at the process
I had to go through,

I have to tell my coach,

or I have to tell sports med.

I have to tell
sports performance.

Then they have to tell, like,
two more people

over in Colorado Springs,

and then they have to, like,
go through this thing

to try to find someone,
determine if it's valid--

my request for help.

Like, I went
through their process,

and despite those five
to seven people knowing,

I didn't get any help.

- I think a lot of us
could've had a story

that ended
like Steve Holcomb's did,

because a lot of us struggle

with so many
of the same feelings.

And I saw Steve
maybe, like, a week before.

He just seemed so--
like everything was fine,

and, like, I think we all seem
like something's fine

until we get
to that one breaking point

where either we're
fortunate enough

for somebody to see us, or...

we're not lucky
and we die.

- Dealing with
the incredible highs and lows

of being an Olympian,

the sacrifices
and the challenges,

and figuring out a transition

from such
a hyper-focused life--

all of it can be
extremely hard,

but there is a way forward.

There are people and places
that can help,

and there are outcomes
that can be really successful.

We just have to change
the perception

that problems
with mental health

are something to hide,

and in a world where Olympians
are leading the way forward

to break down that stigma,

the impact could be massive.

- Where a better place
to make change

than on the Olympic stage?

Youth around the world watch
and look up to these people,

and if we can take a stand
and make change,

it could affect the world

in recognizing
what truly matters.

- It doesn't matter if you're
an Olympic gold medalist

and you are
the most decorated athlete

of human history

or you're someone
driving a bus.

You're prone to depression.

My faith was how I was able
to handle it

and still handle it,

but that's okay
to handle it differently.

- When stuff
started getting bad,

if I had just even seen
someone,

like, once or twice a week,

we probably wouldn't have
ended up where I did.

- We're human.

I don't think I have
to say anything else.

We're human beings,
just like everybody else.

Yeah, I had won
a shit-ton of medals.

I had a great career.

Doesn't matter.
I wasn't happy with who I was.

I thought of myself
of just a swimmer

and not a human being,
not a person.

No self-love,
no self-confidence.

You know, thinking
about committing suicide

and not being alive anymore,

you know, I think back
to it now still.

It's crazy,
what's been able to happen

and what I've been able
to learn.

- It's okay to not be okay,

and it's okay to kind of, like,
talk to people about it.

You gotta definitely find
the right people in your life

that you can talk to
about these things.

- What makes the Olympics
so special

is their power to bring
the world together.

Like everyone else,

I can't wait to live
in a world

where that's possible again,

and my hope is,
when that happens,

the athletes
in the center of it all

are not just ready to compete

but also supported
through whatever may come

once the flame goes out.

My own mental health
continues to be a challenge

that I need to address
on a daily basis.

It's a part of my life

as much as being a husband
and a father.

It took me a long time
to be okay with saying that,

and I'm ready to spend
as much time as I have to

in the years ahead

to make sure others know
that there's help out there

and that it's okay
to not be okay.

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