This team.
I gain something different from each World Championship season — something I learn or experience that becomes part of me and enables me to give back with greater perspective, deeper understanding, and a stronger connection to high performance and what it truly means to strive for the top.
When I look specifically at my years boat handling on the world stage, it looks something like this:
2024 · Genoa, Italy
Boat handling for Team USA wasn’t part of any particular plan. I was pulled in by two incredible coaches and trailblazers, Marc Oria and Ben Booth, and immediately put to the test, supporting the junior and senior team athletes in surf conditions that required every ounce of focus, stamina, and grit.
I remember getting knocked down by a wave right before the start of one race and Ben simply saying, “Get up.” No judgment. No hint of shame. Just a straightforward directive that freed me. I was working alongside the best in the sport, and it was OK to make a mistake.
What else did I gain?
A deeper understanding of how saying yes and staying open to possibilities previously unknown can lead to something spectacular.
And a deeper understanding of how to reconnect with something you love and transfer the skills and mindset mastered in one domain to an entirely new environment.
How do these takeaways help me today?
In coaching, we talk frequently about clarity of vision. It’s nearly impossible to create a fulfilling path forward without having an idea of who you want to be and where you want to go.
At the same time, it’s invaluable to stay open and attentive to new possibilities and unexpected curves. Open to the spectacular, as I heard one coach describe it. Open to expansion and the movement of the universe, as I like to say.
2025 · Antalya, Turkey
This year was an extension of what continued to feel like a new adventure. I discovered an enduring connection to and joy in the work, along with a commitment to the team. But in the bigger picture, there were still many unknowns. From a performance perspective, I got to witness — and be part of — a redemption story.
In 2024, Team USA’s Coastal Mixed Quad was defending its world championship title and expecting to win. But this is Beach Sprint racing. Anything can happen given the whim of the waves, and the quad lost to Italy in the Top 16 Knockout Round. No racing in the quarterfinals, no semifinals, no finals, no opportunity for gold.
In 2025, I watched the same boat return to the start line and dominate. The courage it takes to suffer a loss, and then go back to the drawing board, recommit to the training, find a way forward, and put your heart on the line — again — is not lost on me. Any athlete who’s worked through injury or loss knows it well. It was a true honor to be at the start line with this crew.
How do these lessons inform my work today?
Coaching is about holding space and meeting people exactly where they are so you can show up and provide what they need. Sometimes that’s space to process and grieve loss. Sometimes that’s space to support figuring out the way forward. And sometimes that’s space to celebrate and integrate growth and wins.
Working alongside this crew in Turkey deepened my admiration for and understanding of the courage it takes to return to meaningful work after disappointment, and the importance of having people who can meet you where you are, strengthen you, and support you along the way.
2026 · Qingdao, China
This team is starting to feel like a family. Between the training camps in San Diego and the days spent at Worlds, we’ve spent more time together this year than in years past, and I know that’s had an impact.
In Qingdao, I honestly struggled with what I wanted to write for this post. What I wanted to give and convey. What I felt called to share.
Today, high performance gets put in a box. I receive email after email with subject lines like 6 Things Leaders Do Differently and 7 Core Beliefs of High Performers.
But here’s the truth: high performance, and the cultures that support it, can’t be put in a box. They’re not six things or seven things or any specified number. They’re multifaceted and organic. Living, breathing, and versatile.
After Qingdao, here’s what I believe about teams striving for — and existing at — the top. It’s what I observed. What I lived. What I know.
High-performance teams include:
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Moments of fear.
Moments of focus.
Moments of silliness.
Moments of fun.
Moments of pride and moments that inspire.
Moments of working together as a team and moments of connecting more closely, more personally, one on one.
They include moments of quiet sadness and frustration. And moments of reaching out, expressing emotion, and leaning on others for support.
They include moments to lock in, to adapt, to turn it on, and to completely turn it off.
They, of course, include moments of courage, of connection, of humility, of intensity, of loss, and of joy.
High performance isn’t the absence of difficult emotions, and it doesn’t look or feel one predetermined way. It makes space for the whole human experience while remaining committed to pursuing something extraordinary.
How does this perspective support my work today?
Coaching helps others step into their best selves. Many times, leaders in particular feel they need to look a certain way and lead a certain way to succeed in their roles. The perceived margin for error can be small and stifling, and leadership can feel like a lonely place to live.
But what I’ve experienced with this team is a powerful reminder that there’s no one way to show up, contribute, lead, or perform at your best.
We bring different strengths, personalities, perspectives, and emotions to the table. And there’s room for all of them. In fact, it’s often the way those differences come together that makes us stronger and allows us to thrive.
Thanks for reading, my friends.
If these reflections resonate with you, or you’re exploring how to build a high-performance environment where people can thrive, I’d love to continue the conversation.
As always, sending my best,
Cara
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