Chasing More Than Gold

Requested by Grace and inspired by Harry, this article comes from a Munro with an extremely different level of skiing ability from that described and displayed by my very impressive relatives, living across the Atlantic.

Instead, I swapped skis, snow and speed for stones, ice and precision. Even before I was born, it was written in the stars that curling would play a big role in my life. I’ll set the scene. It was 2002, the year my parents married and my dad was welcomed into the McMillan family, a familiar name in the Scottish Curling world after my grandparents’ decision to make their North West Castle Hotel the first hotel in the world to have an ice rink back in 1970.

In the lead-up to my parents’ engagement, they spent two weeks at the Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City, ready for ten days of cheering and chanting for my mum’s brother, Hammy McMillan. Originally, they had tickets secured for the men’s medal games as my Uncle was a favourite to win, but those tickets were swiftly exchanged for seats at the women’s finals, to support my mum’s best friend, my ‘Auntie’ Rhona, who had defied the odds and made it to the playoffs.

A year later, I claimed my first Scottish Junior title. This win surprised many, but for us it felt like it was meant to be. Sharing it with my family and earning it alongside two of my best friends is something I will cherish for the rest of my life. The covid pandemic that followed soon after was a reality check which steadied and prepared me for the world that exists outside of curling. My final years of school grounded me as I navigated exams, university applications, and moving away from my small hometown of Stranraer to the city of Glasgow.

Just three months into my time at Strathclyde University, I was offered the chance to join the British Curling Performance Foundation programme. Little did I know, a year later, in Füssen, Germany, after a rollercoaster of a season, my teammates and I would be crowned World Junior Champions. Achieving my childhood dream was made even more poignant by the passing of my grandfather the day before the championship, the man to thank for building the rink where our family’s love of curling began. Doing him proud that week, surrounded by my family, truly made this the most special moment of my curling career. That week also happened to include meeting a certain Norwegian curler, Lukas, who as it turned out, I would soon get to call my boyfriend!

When you’re relentlessly pursuing a goal, it can be easy not to give much thought to what comes next. But what happens when you achieve it? In my experience, it can create the impression to yourself, and to those around you, that the sky is the limit. With two years left in our junior careers, we were selected to join British Curling’s Olympic programme. We were given Athlete Performance Awards (essentially wages), asked to juggle overlapping women’s and juniors schedules full of ambitious goals, and train full-time on top of university commitments.

Before I even had time to process it, my life had changed quite dramatically. Honestly, if you asked me what I learned in my third year of university, I would struggle to tell you the names of my classes! I spent six months relentlessly chasing goals with single-minded focus, barely able to catch my breath.

Amidst it all, I navigated university deadlines, maintained a long-distance relationship, won my third Scottish Junior championship, and earned the chance to defend our World Junior title. But the heartbreak that followed that competition, despite the joy of watching Lukas join the exclusive club of World Junior Champions, marked the lowest point in my career. For the first time, I was forced to face what it really means to fall short.

Resilience. That is what the past year, since that ninth-place finish at World Juniors, has taught me. I’ve learned that you are not defined by your failures, but by how you respond to them. And I responded by setting my sights higher, determined to prove that setbacks are not the end, but the beginning of something bigger.

I decided not to play my final year of eligibility in juniors choosing instead to go all in on the women’s circuit to chase the slim, but real, chance of qualifying for the 2026 Olympics. This decision meant balancing a full time training and competition schedule with my final year of university, determined to make sure my academic goals wouldn’t take a backseat. 

That season, I was proud to be selected to represent Great Britain at my second World University Games. Competing in the first-ever mixed doubles event, taking a shot at redemption after a fourth-place finish in 2023, was incredible. Being chosen by the delegation to be the flag bearer at the opening ceremony was an absolute honour. And standing on the podium to make history and win gold for Great Britain? That was a dream come true.

The World University Games honour the commitment it takes to be a student-athlete, and winning that gold while representing my university showed me that although it was tough at times, every step of this journey has been worth it. Standing on that podium was exactly where I wanted to be at that moment.

Two weeks later, we won the Scottish Women’s Championships, making the Olympic selectors’ decision as difficult as possible. Not long after, we learned that it wouldn’t be us.

Of course we were disappointed. You don’t commit to something fully without caring deeply about the outcome. But we knew we had done everything in our control. And although it wasn’t meant to be in the end, I’m proud that I took the leap and chased that small chance at the Olympics.

It was a year of early mornings in the gym and late nights in the library. A year of stretching myself in every sense. Falling short hurts, but the most important lesson I learned this year: medals aren’t the only measure of success. 

In July, I was incredibly proud to graduate with a First Class Honours degree. When I look back on this past year, it isn’t defined by that selection setback, but by growth, grit and resilience. I see a 21-year-old who left no stone unturned and discovered just how much she’s capable of. That’s what success means to me. 

Somewhere along the way, I made a decision that even surprised me. As I finished university, I realised that my whole life had been spent chasing the next big goal, rarely pausing to consider what life might have to offer outside the curling world. With the end of my studies coinciding with the end of the Olympic cycle, it felt like the right moment to step away from the structure and comfort of the British Curling programme. I chose to give myself the freedom to explore new challenges and opportunities, and to disover what life looks like beyond a pathway or a podium. It wasn’t about walking away from the sport that has shaped so much of who I am, but about allowing myself to grow in other ways.

So what’s next? Who knows! But I have a feeling it involves adventure, growth, and hopefully a Bermuda ski trip, where my Munros across the Atlantic can teach this newbie how to fly down the slopes faster than her Norwegian boyfriend, born with skis on his feet!