I find that as an athlete, we don't get to speak our mind often

Hear the voice of Justin Gatlin, runner of the swift path, who declared: “I find that as an athlete, we don’t get to speak our mind often or share our hearts. So I chose motivational speaking to help make a difference.” These words are not merely about the sprints he ran or the medals he won; they are about the deeper struggle of every competitor—to be seen not only for their performance, but for their humanity. For in the world of sport, the body is celebrated, but the heart is often silenced. Gatlin sought to break that silence.

The meaning is clear: an athlete is often reduced to statistics, to times and scores, to victories and defeats. The public cheers or jeers, but rarely listens. Behind every runner, every player, every competitor, there lies a story—of sacrifice, of doubt, of triumphs unseen. To speak one’s mind and share one’s heart is to reclaim the fullness of identity, to remind the world that the champion is also a son, a brother, a human being who bleeds, dreams, and learns. Gatlin turned to motivational speaking because it gave him the power to express what the stopwatch could not measure.

History gives us echoes of this truth. Consider Jackie Robinson, who broke the color barrier in baseball. On the field, he was forced to endure taunts, threats, and hatred, but his play alone could not tell the story of his pain and his resolve. In speeches and writings, Robinson revealed the depth of his heart, and in so doing, he changed not only the game, but the society that surrounded it. Or think of Muhammad Ali, who with his fists gained fame, but with his words inspired movements and generations. Sport may open the stage, but speech changes the world.

The choice of motivational speaking is powerful, for it transforms personal struggle into shared strength. Gatlin’s career was not without controversy and hardship; he endured criticism, setbacks, and doubts. Yet rather than hide these wounds, he chose to make them lessons. In speaking to others, especially to the young, he could say: I have stumbled, but I have risen; I have been doubted, but I have endured; I have known silence, but now I speak. In this, he becomes not just a runner of races, but a runner of lives, guiding others toward their own finish lines.

The phrase “to make a difference” carries the weight of legacy. It reminds us that medals tarnish, records are broken, and fame fades, but the impact made upon another soul endures. The athlete’s greatest victory is not the race won for himself, but the race that inspires another to run theirs. By sharing his heart, Gatlin seeks to plant courage in those who feel voiceless, to show them that strength is not only in muscles, but in vulnerability and truth.

The lesson for us is this: whatever stage we stand upon—whether track, office, classroom, or home—we must not let the world reduce us to roles or results. We must dare to speak our minds and share our hearts, for in doing so, we awaken connection and transformation. To hide behind performance is to remain incomplete; to speak from the soul is to make a mark that outlasts the moment.

Therefore, take action: find your voice. Do not be silent in the face of your struggles, but turn them into words that uplift others. Seek opportunities to share your journey, whether to one person or to many. Listen, too, to the stories of others, for in this exchange of hearts, communities are strengthened. And if you have been given a platform—large or small—use it not only to display your skill, but to reveal your humanity.

So let Justin Gatlin’s words endure: “I chose motivational speaking to help make a difference.” They remind us that true greatness is not in being admired, but in being understood, not in winning alone, but in inspiring others to rise. May we, too, run our races with courage, and when the cheering ends, may our words carry forward the light of our hearts.