Effort and Trials Pave the Road to Victory

Tadahiro Nomura achieved the unprecedented feat of three consecutive Olympic triumphs in the men’s judo 60 kg division. Since retiring from actively competing, he has devoted himself to promoting judo both in Japan and abroad by establishing and leading the “Nomura Dojo.” Inspired by Mr. Nomura, Hifumi Abe of Park24 trained tirelessly, winning two consecutive gold medals in the men’s judo 66 kg division at the Tokyo 2020 Olympics and the Paris 2024 Olympics. These two champions, each having prevailed in the fiercest contests on the world stage, now reflect together on the essential principles for overcoming hardship and seizing victory in life.

Mr. Nomura: It’s been exactly one year since you won the gold medal at the Paris 2024 Olympics. To achieve two consecutive victories following the Tokyo 2020 Olympics is truly something to be proud of, and above all, it was a magnificent display of judo.
Moreover, because the Tokyo Games were postponed by one year due to the COVID pandemic, athletes only had three years to prepare for Paris, making it an especially demanding competition for the competitors.

Mr. Abe: It was a shorter time than usual; however, I believe I was able to prepare properly. Yet there was a marked difference in my mindset between Tokyo and Paris. At my first Olympics at Tokyo, I felt as if I was the challenger and resolved to go for gold boldly. The Paris Games was different because such feelings were absent. Instead, I approached the matches under the tension that I absolutely had to prevail, no matter what.
　And the reason for this change was clear. If I had lost at the Paris Games, not only would the dream of winning three consecutive Olympic gold medals like you would’ve evaporated, but also the collapse of the dream of winning a fourth gold. Thus, the tension I felt was immense; however, to prevail under such circumstances marked a profound step forward in my own growth.
　Moreover, another decisive factor was that my younger sister, Uta, who won the gold medal alongside me at the Tokyo Games, lost her chance for gold in Paris. When my sister wins, it invariably increases the pressure on me to win. However, when she lost, it left no option but to step forward with clarity. Her loss sharpened my resolve, I knew I just had to win.

Mr. Nomura: At that time, there were those who wondered if your sister’s loss would unsettle you, preventing you from performing at your best. However, watching your matches told me otherwise. You were clearly a resilient athlete, one who is not fragile in the slightest.
　In retrospect, when I first saw you as a high schooler, your technique was sharp and powerful, and how you used momentum was remarkable. Yet sometimes, at crucial moments, you would become a bit timid. And despite your skill, your style and technique were still a bit rough around the edges.
　Nonetheless, I saw how you steadily corrected these issues, gathering experience while aiming to win not just three, but four consecutive Olympic gold medals. Confidence and dignity began to exude off of you especially after you became the Olympic champion at Tokyo.
Moreover, as I witnessed you contending for the top at Paris, I was convinced that you had truly become a formidable judoka, in both name and substance, worthy of being called an absolute champion. As someone who has witnessed your growth since your younger days, I couldn’t be happier.

Mr. Abe: Thank you, but I now have a better grasp, after winning two consecutive medals myself, of the magnitude of your record of three consecutive victories. Even winning two in a row is incredibly difficult, and I wonder how you were able to build not just your body but especially your mindset to win the third.
　Therefore, there are still many things I wish to learn from you, and why I need to redouble my efforts as I set my sights on a third consecutive medal.

Mr. Nomura: Now, I know you were active as a national-level athlete early on in your journey, but how was that strength cultivated?

Mr. Abe: It begins with my father. He had been swimming since he was a child, but being small in stature, he found that while he could win during his elementary and middle school years, he gradually stopped seeing results once he reached high school. From that experience, he knew that if he were to have me pursue any sport, it should be one divided by weight class.
　So, my father introduced me to a variety of sports, letting me watch and try them. And one day when he put a judo match on television and asked whether I thought it looked cool, I lit up the most. As a result, in 2003, when I was six, I ended up joining the local Hyogo Shonen Kodama-kai Judo Club. That became the origin point of when I started my path in judo.
　Like my father, I am not that large, so in the end I feel it was fortunate that I chose judo.
　Yet in the beginning, I found it daunting to go to the dojo for practice. Many of the other children there were much bigger, and their presence could be overwhelming.

Mr. Nomura: So at first, stepping onto the practice floor was a source of fear.

Mr. Abe: It was, but there was one moment that was crucial. In second grade I was defeated in a match by a girl and the frustration I felt was immense. That ignited in me a genuine fire to become stronger and as a result I began to train with my father.
　My father would often come to watch my practice, and on his days off from work, he would train always by my side, running and dashing up the stairs. Even when I resisted or complained, he would be insistent and consistent for me, dragging me to training (laughs).
　Looking back now, if I were in his place, I doubt I could have done the same for my child. I’m truly grateful to him for the devotion with which he trained.

Mr. Nomura: Truly an admirable father. I am willing to say that those days of training with him formed the very bedrock of your strength.

Mr. Abe: In elementary school my results were modest, but by the time I entered middle school, I saw growth. The more I practiced and trained, the more victories I attained. So, I began living my days immersed in judo, driven by the desire to climb even higher, to become the best in Japan. And I knew I needed to work ever harder toward that goal.
　One milestone came in 2011, when I was able to win the National Junior High School Judo Tournament in the 55 kg division during my second year at middle school. I found myself able to throw opponents I couldn’t throw before, and I felt myself getting stronger by the day. I became even more absorbed and invested in judo. Moreover, I came to believe that true growth required training with those who are better than me, and so I sometimes would find myself practicing at high schools.

Mr. Nomura: It seems that you never allowed yourself to be content with your present achievements. Instead, you continually strove higher, persisting in your efforts.

Mr. Abe: Yes, for sure, and I regard this period of time as one in which I grew tremendously in judo.
　After that, I attended Shinko Gakuen Shinko High School in Hyogo Prefecture, and I immersed myself even deeper in the sport. During those years I was able to claim a series of major titles, including the 2014 National High School Judo Championship in the 73 kg division, the National High School Comprehensive Athletic Meet (Inter-High) Judo Competition in the 66 kg division, and the Kodokan Cup All Japan Judo Championship in the 66 kg division.

Mr. Nomura: By the way, how did you come to develop your own judo style?

Mr. Abe: I met outstanding mentors who guided me with care from elementary school through high school. What they all shared was an emphasis on maintaining a firm grip and clean throws, never mere tricks or superficial maneuvers.
　Of course, I was also greatly influenced by you. Seeing you on television, winning Olympic matches with such dynamic, decisive throws, I decided that I, too, would win in judo with throws. And the first time I met you will always be an unforgettable memory. That chance to meet and practice against you as a first-year high schooler remains a highlight in my life.

Mr. Nomura: I remember it well too. Someone from Tenri University Judo Club, my alma mater, told me there was a young athlete who admired me and asked whether I might train with him. That’s when you came to Tenri University to train.
　At first, I had every intention to go a little easy on you since you were still a student. But the moment we took hold of each other, I realized how strong you already were. I thought that if I went easy, I wouldn’t be able to throw you, so I got a little serious (laughs).

Mr. Abe: I remember. That time you threw me countless times to the mat, but it became an invaluable experience. For me, facing my own role model made me so nervous, I felt like I couldn’t do anything.
　Even now, I continue to chase your example, and I approach each match with the spirit that, on the Olympic stage, victory is meaningless unless I win with a throw.
　Hence why I believe that, not only in judo but in life as well, whom you meet and whom you admire is of immeasurable importance to one’s growth.

Mr. Nomura: In my case, I was born into family of judoka where my grandfather, father, and uncle were all practitioners. I began judo at the age of three at Hotokukan, the dojo my grandfather established near our family home in Nara. However, unlike your father-son training, my father actually kept a certain distance from me when it came to judo. In fact, he never pressed me with words of discipline or urged me to practice harder. So, in elementary school, I also joined swimming classes and played on the baseball and soccer teams.

Mr. Abe: That’s surprising to hear.

Mr. Nomura: But precisely because of this freedom that I came to find judo genuinely enjoyable. When I entered Tenri Junior High School, I came to the conclusion that I wanted to grow stronger through judo. Choosing that path by my own volition became the foundation of everything that followed. If I had been forced to do it, I might have taken an entirely different path.
　That said, I was also small since childhood, and when I entered junior high school, I weighed only about thirty kilograms. In my debut match during my first year in middle school at a local citizen’s tournament, while you were in the second grade of elementary school, I lost to a girl (laughs). Unlike you, I couldn’t produce any good results easily and experienced quite a lot of frustration. Moreover, my older brother was strong, so I was constantly compared to him by those around me.

Mr. Abe: What sustained your drive to continue judo when you weren’t getting results?

Mr. Nomura: I told myself that if I gave up judo, which I had come to love, simply because I couldn’t win, there would be nothing left. I didn’t know whether it would take three years or five, but I held fast to the desire to refine the shoulder throw I had first learned in my grandfather’s dojo and to one day win through it. That single aspiration was enough to keep me going.
　Mentally, I envisioned the ideal form for judo and faced each day with conviction to strive toward that ideal. I truly believed that I shouldn’t just rest where I was at the moment, but in who I would become through persistent, fervent effort.

Mr. Abe: To believe in one’s future self and continue endeavoring toward it is a deeply reassuring thought.

Mr. Nomura: That said, I hardly made any real achievements in middle school. When I entered Tenri High School, my father told me that there was no need to force myself to continue. Even when I was a high schooler, I still weighed less than fifty kilograms.

Mr. Abe: How were you able to improve from such a situation?

Mr. Nomura: One turning point came through my father’s advice. At Tenri High School, our judo club idealized a beautiful form of judo where you grip head-on, throw, and win by ippon. Now, at that time, most of the club members were heavyweights. For someone small like me, taking an opponent head on meant being thrown or crushed immediately. Thus, I came to adopt a style that relied on movement, attacking the moment we made contact or circling to find an opening.
　However, when my father learned of this, he scolded me. He believed such a style suits athletes that only want to win for a brief period in their journey. If I want to become a judoka with real ability and enduring strength, I must abandon such superficial tactics. He encouraged me that it was fine if I couldn’t win now; instead, I should focus on gripping my opponent firmly, head-on, and polish techniques that can achieve ippon.

Mr. Abe: That’s advice that touches the essence of judo.

Mr. Nomura: It was the first time my father had scolded me about judo and his words struck deeply. From that point on, I began to take hold of larger opponents head-on. Through persistence my whole body was strengthened, and my ability to learn and implement techniques improved. Moreover, I developed the skill to control distance and rhythm in matches. Ultimately, I came to realize that there is a strength only attainable through straightforward, proper judo and not through clever tricks.
　And as my body developed, the techniques I had long polished began to come alive, and I gradually began to produce results in competition. Everything unfolded exactly as my father had told me. I owe who I am today to those few words from my father, who set me right when I had strayed toward the superficial.

Mr. Nomura: Another major turning point came through my encounter with Professor Shinji Hosokawa, the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics gold medalist who taught me at Tenri University.
　The university’s judo club had a long history, and it attracted talented athletes from all over the country. Training was exceptionally demanding. At first I practiced with clear goals in mind, but when the harsh routine continued every day, my focus shifted from attaining strength to simply enduring each session.
　For instance, during randori, free-style sparring meant to simulate real matches, we would train for twelve grueling, six-minute rounds. In each session, I told myself I was operating at my limit, but inevitably, a more honest voice would emerge, tallying the remaining minutes and rounds until the end. My resolve was replaced by a simpler determination to make it through to the end.

Mr. Abe: It seems you had unknowingly settled into a rhythm.

Mr. Nomura: Precisely. And that’s when Professor Hosokawa challenged me. “Your mindset is not the path to true strength. If your goal is the summit, you must forget about the clock.” He also pushed me, urging, “Treat each round as if it is a real match. When you find yourself completely spent midway, you can rest. Thus approach each exchange from the start as if it is real.” His message was clear. My striving needs to be purposeful and my efforts, true.
　His critique became my catalyst for revolution. I completely changed my attitude toward practice and began to infuse each session with a relentless focus on its underlying purpose. On the mat, I envisioned each bout as a duel that demanded everything from myself. This would continue until I would confront what felt like an absolute wall. There a spark would ignite, an inner defiant cry that refused defeat, and surprisingly, my body would respond. That is how I learned that my limits, my boundaries, were constructed from my own mind and heart.

Mr. Abe: I also firmly believe that. Limits really are set by oneself.

Mr. Nomura: Realizing this and changing my mindset propelled me to a new level. In 1994, I won the All Japan Judo Championships in the 60 kg division in my sophomore year of college, and afterwards I found success domestically and internationally. Ultimately, in my senior year of college, I was selected as the representative for the 60 kg division at the 1996 Atlanta Olympics.
　Professor Hosokawa remained my steadfast mentor, supporting me by my side even at my first Olympic stage. He is, without question, my greatest mentor who provided both intensity and reassurance. And while I agree that who we meet is critical, I also think we are responsible for attracting those encounters to us.
　After all, I am convinced that without a serious, personal ambition to become something more, one will not only miss the chance for pivotal encounters, but also lack the capacity to benefit from them.

Mr. Abe: Now we’re on the topic of the Olympics, I should say I was also aiming to compete at the 2016 Rio de Janeiro Olympics.
　But one year before the Rio Olympics, during my senior year of high school, I went on a losing streak where I also lost at the Kodokan Cup, which cost me my chance for participating in Rio.

Mr. Nomura: That’s right. The Kodokan Cup is a crucial match where losing also meant one’s chance to enter the Rio Olympics evaporates.

Mr. Abe: And I knew how important the qualifying tournament was, so my defeat at the Kodokan Cup devastated me. The frustration was overwhelming and I felt like giving up. However, my support system, my parents, my mentor, and others challenged me to reconsider. They asked if I was really done and clarified that my decision in that moment would change my life.
　Their voices became lifelines, and I pulled myself back to my dream. I resumed the day after losing that match and shifted my focus to the Tokyo Olympics four years later. The whole experience taught me again how vital it is to have people who speak to you in moments of hardship. Their support rekindled a motivation rooted in gratitude to do my best for them.
　Also, from 2015 onwards, my sister Uta had also begun to achieve her own success which inspired me to push forward all the more.

Mr. Nomura: That’s what’s remarkable about you. You took the pain of defeat and turned it into strength.

Mr. Abe: During that tough year of frequent losses, I desperately analyzed my mistakes focusing on how to improve, all to build something positive from these negative events. This period of struggle was essential for me to reassess my judo journey and build mental fortitude.

Mr. Nomura: How you act when you lose, more so than when you win, determines what happens next.

Mr. Abe: There was another major turning point during my losing streak. I made the difficult decision to leave my hometown and go to Nippon Sport Science University.
　Though the comfort of staying in Kansai remained an option, and though voices of doubt cautioned that Tokyo would make me weaker, I was drawn to the unknown challenges that awaited me there. I believed that facing this unknown would strengthen me. Also, I remember consulting with you on this matter, and you told me that becoming strong or weak depends on myself, and that I must choose my own path. Your advice proved to be invaluable.

Mr. Nomura: I believe that whether a decision becomes right or wrong ultimately depends on your own actions. But in retrospect, going to Tokyo turned out to be the right choice, didn’t it?

Mr. Abe: Yes, absolutely. Moving to Tokyo completely changed my environment. My mentor at university, Professor Yosuke Yamamoto, guided me with great care and took me to many training sessions at other dojos.
　On top of that, strong corporate athletes also came to train at the university, and I was thrown around constantly. Of course, the environment back home was also sufficient, but by placing myself in a completely foreign environment, surrounded by so many athletes stronger than I had even known before transformed me.
　In fact, during my university years, I was able to win many competitions and was ultimately selected as Japan’s representative for the Tokyo 2020 Olympics. If I hadn’t made the choice to go to Tokyo, I might never have stood on the Olympic stage, nor achieved back-to-back victories. It was a difficult choice, but I truly felt that when you decide your own path and act on it, the way forward opens before you.

Mr. Abe: Starting with Atlanta and continuing on in Sydney and Athens, you achieved three consecutive Olympic victories. Could you share what that journey was like?

Mr. Nomura: In Atlanta, I think it was luck, or rather, good timing that was on my side. Although I had won the All Japan Judo Championships in my weight division, I had no experience fighting on big stages like the World Championships or Asian Games. In terms of ability, I was probably only the third best in Japan. My selection for the Olympic team was therefore a great surprise, not only to those around me but to myself as well. I remember the uncertainty I felt, wondering if I truly deserved to represent Japan. In fact, there was hardly any public attention on me, and I received no requests for interviews from the media.
　However, that lack of exposure sharpened my focus. I told myself that this might be my first and last chance to compete in the Olympics, that there would be no second opportunity, that anything other than a gold medal was absolutely unacceptable since I had been selected as Japan’s representative. This pressure, this sense of responsibility, gave me the drive to fight in each match with no regrets, and to uphold the utmost respect toward the competition.
　One defining moment came in the third round against Nikolay Ozhegin from Russia, the previous year’s gold medalist. Until the closing moments, I was overwhelmingly behind, but I continued pressing on my attack, refusing to yield. With only ten seconds left on the clock, I turned the match around and won.
　To be honest, I believe I was able to win the gold medal at Atlanta through sheer momentum and the determination to fight to the final second without giving up.

Mr. Abe: That unyielding spirit of yours drew victory to you.

Mr. Nomura: By contrast, at the Sydney Olympics four years later, I faced a different kind of pressure. Expectations around me were far greater as the Atlanta gold medalist, and opponents had studied my every move carefully.
　Concurrently, I had tremendous confidence in knowing that I was the champion. The sense of having expectations placed on me and being able to fulfill them was ever present. Although the path was by no means easy, in Sydney I was able to perform a style of judo I had long envisioned and successfully fulfilled my goal of winning a second consecutive victory.

Mr. Abe: I imagine aiming for the Athens Olympics four years later was an extremely difficult path. How did you move through that period?

Mr. Nomura: After achieving two consecutive victories, a sense of completion settled over me, and I felt that I had done enough. In fact, I had publicly declared before the Sydney Games that I would retire from actively competing if I won two consecutive victories.
　Yet, when the Sydney Games actually ended, I found myself wavering between retirement and continuing. Part of me wanted to reach for what no one in judo had yet attained, which is a third consecutive Olympic medal. But when I considered the journey, the hardships I would have to endure, I hesitated.
　In any case, in order to make a decision, I knew I needed distance, a change of place to understand what my heart wanted. I decided to study at a university in San Francisco and live for a time apart from judo. It was a period of reflection, of learning to see life and myself from another vantage.

Mr. Abe: So, you changed your environment, which led you to a time of self-reflection.

Mr. Nomura: Exactly. This new life had no demanding practices, and was easy and fun. I completely forgot about the pressure of being an Olympic champion. But within that comfort, I began to feel a void.
　I realized that I needed tension in life, and that now was my only chance to take on a challenge that would make my spirit burn. Thus, I decided to aim for gold in Athens and returned to active competition after a two-year hiatus. It was 2002, when I was twenty-eight years old.
　Nevertheless, I was approaching thirty years old and had to make up for lost time. For about a year after my return, I was constantly being thrown down by younger, less accomplished judoka, and against overseas athletes, all I could do was retreat. The chorus from the sidelines seemed to chant that I was finished. It was a hellish experience.

Mr. Abe: You had come face-to-face with a major low point in life it seems.

Mr. Nomura: I developed severe alopecia areata from the stress, and both body and mind were barely holding together. Yet I refused to abandon the challenge because I felt that it was up to me alone to make my earlier decision the right one. No one told me to do it, but I would see my choice through to the end no matter what. Even if others laughed at me, I would give my all to see it through. In the end, that determination was all I had left.
　In fact, as I persevered, I gradually regained my previous form, accumulated wins again, and ultimately secured a spot on the Olympic team.
　On the Athens stage, although my body complained about its limitations, my spirit, which was tempered by hardship, was unshakable. Of my three Olympic Games, I performed the most composed at Athens, securing the historic third consecutive gold.
　Therefore, I learned that confronting difficulties is the crucible where true strength is forged, and it grants passage to a world visible only to those who have endured. In this way, I hope you also will glimpse this world as you strive for a third, and even fourth, gold.

Mr. Abe: Even after achieving the three consecutive Olympic gold medals, you chose to continue as an active athlete. This is a decision not everyone can make.

Mr. Nomura: Understandably. It was similar to when I won my second gold. The option to retire was there, the curtain closing with an unparalleled achievement. But I still felt my journey in judo was not yet finished, and above all, a desire for a fourth gold.
　So I charted a course for the 2008 Beijing Olympics as our goal, and although there were some roadblocks, progress was tangible. However, just before the 2007 World Championships, a touchstone for the Beijing Games, my ambition was severed by a torn anterior cruciate ligament in my right knee.

Mr. Abe: For that to occur just when things were about to take off...

Mr. Nomura: That injury was a decisive turning point. From then on, the results I sought continued to elude me as I aimed for my fourth consecutive win. I failed to be selected for the Beijing Games and couldn’t compete in the London Olympics four years later either.
　Still, I endured because I wanted to challenge my own potential, but what followed was a long struggle of repeated injuries, surgeries, rehabilitation, and a body that deteriorated with age. I wanted to win and explore judo techniques further, but my body refused to listen to me. Those days of pain and frustration felt more like the ascetic life of a monk than a judoka. I no longer enjoyed judo as I once did.

Mr. Abe: It is still admirable that you persevered with your active career under such severe circumstances.

Mr. Nomura: In the end, in 2015, when I was forty years old, I decided to retire and faced my retirement match. In the first two rounds, I was able to win by ippon with my signature seoi-nage, but in the third, my body failed to react to my opponent’s technique and I lost by ippon, marking my retirement. It was a complete defeat.
　Although I couldn’t achieve my goal of four consecutive wins, I fought with everything I had until the very, very end. I have no regrets for pushing on after my third gold, nor for having stayed on this path until forty.
　When I lost that retirement match, the entire venue rose in applause, cheering, “You’ve done well.” What washed over me was an emotion unlike anything I had ever experienced, even in victory. Though the sting of defeat was painful, I was grateful for my endurance and pushing my body to my limits.
　Therefore, I want to share that no sincere effort is ever wasted. Every true effort becomes a part of your being. Today, the lessons I’ve learned live on in my work, whether as a sports commentator, in managing athletes through my company Nextend, or in teaching children judo.

Mr. Abe: Listening to your story, I’m reminded once again what ultimately sustains us is not technique, but the heart, the beliefs we place in ourselves.
　Among athletes who compete at the Olympic level, there’s little difference in strength and skill, so what divides victory from defeat is the ability to believe in yourself until the very end. I feel this truth each time I step onto the mat.

Mr. Nomura: I agree. In addition to that, I believe that those who can continue to win and remain active for years are the ones who live with a sense of urgency, adapt to change, and keep renewing themselves.
　An athlete’s career is brief, and within that span, one must remain sensitive to the shifts in mind and body, make clear decisions about what is needed to grow stronger, and translate those decisions into daily action. Those who can do so are the ones who win when it matters most.

Mr. Abe: You’re absolutely right.
　And as you’ve shown, what matters is how intensely we consider our training, approaching each session with a sense of purpose.
　There’s no real growth from practicing long hours out of habit. And I’ll soon turn thirty. My stamina and strength will likely decline, and the risk of injury will rise. As these changes come, I need to keep questioning the quantity and quality of my training to achieve peak form. By continuing to ponder on these questions as I put in the work day by day, I believe I will be able to grow.

Mr. Nomura: There is nothing more important than to act with purpose, to challenge every task before us.

Mr. Abe: There is also a saying I came up with together with my father, which has been my conviction since middle school. “Hard work beats talent.” When I had lost to a girl back in elementary school, the frustration drove me to train with my father. Those days of toil and hardship formed the essence of who I am now, someone able to stand on the world stage. It is my every intention to never neglect this accumulation of effort and aim for the next Olympics.

Mr. Nomura: The word I often write on autograph boards is shūnen, tenacity. In my competitive years as well, I found that when people have tenacity and focus on creating results, it unleashes immense potential. Of course, the process itself is valuable, but a fixation on results is what sharpens ambition and catalyzes profound development in people and organizations.
　Once you decide on a path, never waver from it. Only one person from each division can become an Olympic champion. That standing is not won on words alone because it rests on the dreams of many people. Understanding that, no matter how painful the journey gets, one must hold fast to their conviction and devote themselves unwaveringly to what must be done.
　The unwavering heart draws empathy and support, and eventually leads to true victory in life.

Mr. Abe: Tenacity and constancy. Your words stir my heart due to its truth. Once a decision is made, one should not hold back. We each have a story to write. My next chapter is at 2028 Los Angeles Olympics, and I’m committed to inscribing it with every fiber of my being as a testament to my pursuit for a third consecutive gold medal without leaving a single word of regret upon the pages.
　Thank you. I am truly grateful for the wisdom you’ve shared today.

Mr. Nomura: And thank you as well for today’s meaningful conversation. I will be cheering you wholeheartedly in your quest for a third consecutive Olympic win, and the fourth as well. With your determination, I have every confidence you will achieve this remarkable feat. Let us both continue to press onward in our respective pursuits.