Mesler shares life lessons with Jewish students

Steve Mesler, a member of the 2010 gold medal-winning U.S. men’s bobsled team spoke to students at the High School of Jewish Studies about their common faith, setting goals and his journey to gold. Photo by Jim Smerecak Purchase color photos at www.BeeNews.com Hometown hero Steve Mesler, a member of the 2010 gold medal-winning U.S. men’s bobsled team, made yet another stop at a local school — the High School of Jewish Studies — where he talked to students about being Jewish, setting goals and his journey to gold.

Yo u ’d notice this 32-year-old Olympian if you passed him in the grocery store. Picture an Olympian, and you’ll picture Mesler — tall, lean and muscled. There’s flecks of gray around his temples and a graceful manner about his movement.

Mesler, the only living male Winter Olympics gold medal winner of Jewish heritage, got a surprise Wednesday evening when he was bestowed with an honorary diploma from the school. It was met with cheers.

“It’s something I’m very proud of [being Jewish],” he said after receiving the diploma. “It’s a very special thing for me.”

Mesler was born in 1978 in Buffalo. His athletic career began in track and field when he was only 11 years old.

The next year, when he was 12, he set a “ridiculous” goal for himself: one day he would go to the Olympics. He encouraged the audience to set their own “ridiculous” goals.

A few years later Mesler went to the Junior Olympics in California. He won his first medal there. Mesler had never seen his father cry, except one time, when his friend died.

“I called him up, and I said, ‘Dad I did it. I got a medal.’ And he started crying on the other end of the phone. From then on I realized that if I worked hard, good things would happen.”

Mesler went to high school at City Honors — a school he visited in March — where he continued excelling at track and field, becoming a high school national champion.

The spring of his senior year, however, he tore his hamstring.

“There I was, senior year, and I couldn’t even move.”

Nevertheless, Mesler won a track scholarship to the University of Florida, where he majored in exercise and sports science.

Each spring, however, he continued getting hurt. Freshman year he hurt his ankle; sophomore year he hurt his ankle again; junior year it happened once more; and senior year he broke, of all things, his elbow.

“Five years in a row I went through getting hurt every spring,” he said. “But what I learned was that I was stubborn. I wasn’t ready to let go of being an athlete yet.”

Enter bobsledding. So how did Mesler find this snowy sport in sunny Florida?

Easy. It turns out lots of former track and field stars turn to the sled. The sprinting and running are similar to the skills needed for bobsledding.

“I decided I was going to try to find something I could be great at, and I found bobsledding.”

When Mesler told his mom, “I’m going to try out for bobsled,” she replied, “Get a job.”

Mesler was 22 when he decided he wanted to be a bobsledder, when he decided he might like to start sliding at 95 miles per hour down an icy chute. He has now been participating in the sport for 10 years. He’s the third man in the sled; he starts on the left side.

During the few years he spent racing in Europe, he visited concentration camps, even though it took time away from preparing for the races. He says that it’s important to take the “side roads,” to not be so focused on your goals that you miss what’s important along the way.

“Take those little things,” he says. “Find them. Take them. Enjoy them. Remember to allow the adventures.”

It doesn’t take long for Mesler to reach the point in the narrative awaited by his audience — the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver.

“This is something I still have a hard time talking about without crying,” he said

Mesler talks about knowing at the race that they were already a half second ahead of the rest of the teams.

“Now a half second in bobsled time is enough to pick up your date, go to dinner, go to the movies, come back and heat up your leftovers. That’s how much time we had. So pretty much we weren’t going to lose unless we crashed.”

He stepped to the race line.

“I got this big smile. Then we got into the sled, and we did our job.”

He tells the students, “Do as much as you can do so that when it’s actually time to do the work, you’re ready.”

He was able to smile before the race that day because he knew the work was behind him.

When he crossed the finish line, Mesler turned to look at the people who meant the most to him: his friends and family.

“As you get older, you’ll realize it’s not real unless they’re there.”

Later that day, as he stood on the Olympic podium, he felt rivers of emotion colliding in one moment.

“I just stood there. One little tear came.”

Every time he hears a national anthem now at a sports game or anywhere else, it brings him back to the day he won gold, when he stood on the Olympic podium with the world watching.

For the first time — he’d already been to the Olympics twice — Mesler walked into the closing ceremony with gold hung about his neck.

What is his goal now that he’s won gold? He doesn’t know, and he’s OK with that.

“For the first time in my life I don’t have to look eight years down the road. For the first time in my life I can sit and enjoy myself. … What happens when you reach your goals? I’m finding out right now.”

Mesler hasn’t had much time to contemplate new goals, anyway. His life since the Olympics has been otherworldly, much like the games themselves. He was on the “Today” show; got to do the Top 10 list on the “Late Show With David Letterman,” where he met Tom Hanks; flew in an F-16 fighter jet; and just two weeks ago, shook hands with President Obama in the White House.

“All of a sudden … from about 50 feet away off our right shoulders we hear, ‘Hey it’s the bobsled team!’ And we knew exactly whose voice it was, and we turned and with those big, long strides he walked toward us.”

As Mesler opens the program for pictures, a loose circle of students grows around him, becoming tighter and tighter until all you can see is the center — Mesler, arms around students, fine crinkle lines around his eyes and the gleam of blue ribbon, strung to burnished gold.