Diving off a platform the height of a three-story building and falling at speeds of up to 33 miles per hour requires me to work through my fears every day. I'm afraid every time I go up there but getting through the fear makes me feel stronger; it makes me feel that I can achieve any goal I put my mind to.

But that realization didn't come naturally. Two years before the Olympic Games, I was almost paralyzed every time I climbed up to the 10-meter platform. There were days, after years of practice from that height, when I couldn't even look over the edge. And there were times that I couldn't go off the tower. It was as if all of my potential had been sealed in a jar by my own subconscious fears of the "what if".

Finally, one day, after I had climbed down the tower in disgust, I decided that if I was going to continue diving, I would have to study my complex reactions to fear and find ways to conquer it.

I realized that stress evoked three changes in me; physical, mental and attentional. Physically, my heart would pound, my respiratory rate would increase, my stomach would hurt, I would feel shaky and weak and my adrenaline levels would rise. Worst of all, my muscles would become so tight that I could hardly move, let alone attain the flowing style required in diving.

Mentally, too, I would become very rigid. I felt shaky, unable to control my thoughts. I'd see visions of landing incorrectly in the water or hitting my hand of the edge of the board. The more I tried to shut out those thoughts, the more severe they became.

Later, I realized that this thinking was a result of my skewed attentional focus. Instead of relaxing and enjoying the circumstantial rewards of training, such as the social life or the humor, I'd be focusing on my pounding heart and my shaking hands. I became a victim of my own tunnel vision. At other times, instead of concentrating on one or two important parts of a dive, I would be paying attention to occurrences that I had no control over. I'd watch cars passing on the street or people walking under the tower even as I stood, ready to launch myself into the air.

After a few weeks of self-analysis, I began some deep contemplation of how I could deal with my responses to fear. The techniques I started then are the ones I am still using in every practice session and every competition I'm in, even today, I always begin by writing my short, intermediate and long-term goals on a piece of paper. On one side of each goal I list the fears I will have to overcome to achieve that goal. On the other side I write down the rewards I'll receive at the completion of each goal. Obviously, the harder the goal, the higher the reward I place next to it. The rewards can be anything from a dinner out on the town to a gold medal. This makes a systematic method of achieving those things I set out to do.

Next, I force myself toward the positive. The first step is to remember that I am not unique in this situation. When I begin getting mentally and physically tense, I start a conversation about it with my teammates who experience the same fears.

Putting my ego to work also helps. If I want to impress someone who is watching me, I acknowledge that to myself and use it to fuel the fires to burn up my fears. A bet with a teammate can do the trick as well. Last fall, two of us had to learn a new dive on the same day and both of us were nervous. So, at the beginning of practice, we each put a $100.00 bill on the deck. If each of us did our new dive, we would take back our money; however, if only one of us did the dive, she would be $100.00 richer. Guess what? The bet worked. Neither of us lost the bet and both of us got through the fear to gain a new dive.

Defining positively reinforcing words also works for me. For instance, Webster defines courage as "the attitude of facing and dealing with anything recognized as dangerous". Being able to repeat that definition when I am trying to summon up my courage is reassuring. I also have other standard comments such as, "Yes, I'm nervous, but it's okay; I've felt this way before and I'm still alive," or "I may be scared but I AM going to do it!".

Time for general relaxation is crucial. On competition days or tough training days, I always try to walk slowly rather than hurrying, talk calmly rather than chattering and focus my eyes rather than allowing them to dart from object to object.

A quick review of previous successes always prepares me mentally, physically and attentionally. As I am actually walking or driving to the pool I always make sure to have a relaxing radio station or tape playing. After awhile it gets to the point that even humming a tun actually calms me down. Finally, I always try to shake the last little bit of tension out of my arms and legs. Some slow stretching and deep breathing never hurt either. These activities coupled with positive statements and I'm set. All I have to do is launch myself into the air and go for it, because at that point, I KNOW I can do it.