I knew that a world record was necessary to have any chance at winning, and skating in the first pair forced me to put a big number on the score board. I kept the skating form of my role models for the entire race (almost four laps), and after completing the distance, I looked up and saw the letters "WR" by my time. I had accomplished my goal, and was now the man to beat. Sadly, two pairs later Andre Hoffman from East Germany beat my time by 6/100th of a second (the length of a skate). I ended up with a silver medal, but knew that I had done the best I could. Hey, I won a medal in the Olympic Games and broken a world record in the process! I skated four events in Calgary, and never placed worse than fourth.

Looking up to Eric, or any role model for that matter, allowed me to keep what was good and right, in the forefront of my mind. I would imagine his determination whenever I began to feel tired or discouraged. Watching Dan Jansen maintain his dignity and composure after the toughest of breaks helped me keep my own disappointments in perspective. I guess that's why I always remember that whenever I'm on the ice, some little kid might be watching me as well.

The truly great athletes aren't just exceptional performers, but also exceptionally positive. They make no excuses, take the blame when results don't meet expectations and congratulate their teammates on every shining performance. Picking a role model (or picking the correct attributes to model) requires some discernment. Many of today's sports superstars have displayed questionable motives with morally inept conduct. Working towards a goal means more than winning at all costs, it means keeping to the higher ideals and values as well. Growing up, I tried to pattern myself after the good guys... the great athletes with strong will. If instead, I spent time worrying about my shortcomings, my performance suffered. I realized that a positive attitude matched with careful preparation and dedication worked best every time.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Editors Note: In 1992, Flaim was hit with food poisoning the night before his race. He finished 24th and moved on to new endeavors, like in-line skating and then short track.

It didn't take very long for me to draw the conclusion that I was going to attempt my third Olympics, but in a new sport. The bug was still there, I just needed a change of scenery. In 1994, I won the U.S. Olympic Team trials in short track and we headed off to Lillehammer.

Though I didn't make the final in either of my two individual short track events, I did qualify for the relay where I was teamed with Randy Bartz, John Coyle and Andy Gable. Andy was a former long track skater with whom I had trained in the past. He had been on every World Team since 1986 and competed in the previous two Olympics. I looked to him as a model in tactics and strategy.

The U.S. team finished seventh at the prior World Championships and just barely qualified for the Olympics. Naturally we were not expected to medal.

In the heats, we surprised the field by finishing second behind Australia. This allowed us to join the Aussies, the Italians and Canadians in the Olympic final race for the gold.

The race covered 45 laps, and with 25 to go, the field was tightly bunched when the Canadian fell and slid into the pads. With no lanes to separate the teams, there is always a lot of drafting and fancy footwork. Teammate John Coyle jumped over the fray, and into the lead. We led for the next 15 laps, by not by much, when suddenly Italy streaked by and quickly built an insurmountable 10 meter gap. When the Australians passed us with 5 to go I thought, "Andy will be there on the last exchange. I have to come out perfect, tight to the blocks, then go like a bat out of hell." On the final exchange, Andy Gable gave me the perfect push past the Aussies. I held them off for the final two laps and we won the silver.

The fact that I then became America's first Winter Olympian to win medals in two different sports escaped me for the longest time. It was not until 1998, when I qualified for my fourth Olympic team, that I realized the significance of being a role model, as well as having one...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Editors Note: In the 1998, at his fourth Olympic Games, Eric Flaim carried the American flag in the Opening Ceremonies.

The American flag bearer is elected by the captains of each of the various sports. They always seem to choose the one person whose character and dedication to the Olympic ideal stands out from the crowd. Athletic success rarely has anything to do with the selection. Each sport nominates its own candidate and the team captains meet privately to reduce the nominees until only one remains.

My life had quietly become worthy of role modeling, too. By patterning my life after quality people and quality traits, it was inevitable that some would choose to pattern themselves after me. I never set out to be a role model, but luckily there were enough Olympians out there that appreciated what my career stood for, that I was elected to represent them at this special occasion. I was flattered speechless.

I've never won an Olympic title and was not expected to do well in Nagano. I never received the commercial endorsements or sported a memorable hair cut. I had a full-time job outside of the Olympic world, and planned to earn my living off the ice. I do not consider myself a hero by any stretch of the imagination, buy my peers had chosen to bestow on me the greatest honor an Olympian can receive.

Two days later, the American chef de mission, Paul George, placed the flagpole in my hand and I march behind a sumo wrestler, leading the entire 1998 U.S. Winter Olympic Team through the tunnel and into the light.

"Awaken the Olympian Within" compiled by four-time Olympic gold medalist John Naber, provides inspirational, motivating stories written by 27 Olympians, providing an inside story about the journey to the Games.