Improbable, heart-wrenching, and uplifting, Jeremiah Brown’s journey from novice rower to Olympic silver medallist in under four years is a story about chasing a goal with everything you’ve got. After nearly being incarcerated at age seventeen and becoming a father at nineteen, Jeremiah Brown manages to grow up into a responsible young adult. But while juggling the demands of a long-term relationship, fatherhood, mortgage payments, and a nine-to-five banking career, he feels something is missing. A new goal captures his imagination: What would it take to become an Olympian? Guided by a polarizing coach, Brown and his teammates plumb the depths of physical and mental exertion in pursuit of a singular goal. The 4 Year Olympian is a story of courage, perseverance, and overcoming self-doubt, told from the perspective of an unlikely competitor. Jeremiah Brown is a badass athlete with the soul of a writer. This is not your average, sanitized account of the path to Olympic glory―it's a brutally honest, funny, and at times horrifying book about what it really takes to change your own life. ― Kate Fillion, author of How We Can Win A gutsy, unflinching and ultimately inspiring peek beyond the Olympic podium at the high cost of chasing precious metal. Jeremiah Brown writes the way he raced, with rage and pain and power. He holds nothing back. ― Ken MacQueen, Vancouver bureau chief, Maclean's Startlingly frank, at times wrenching, Jeremiah Brown's account of his journey to an Olympic medal is an inspiration ― not just for athletes but for anyone who is facing a challenge they think is insurmountable. ― Tom McCarthy, award-winning author and editor A story of family, ferocious determination, and the remarkable people who helped make it possible! ― Charley Butt, Men's Heavyweight Rowing Head Coach, Harvard University An extraordinary story about how far passion and perseverance can take you. Jeremiah Brown’s struggle, challenges, and ability to overcome are incredibly relatable. This is a must-read for any dreamer pursuing a passion. ― Michael Callahan, Head Coach, Washington men’s rowing team Tells the story of what it means to train hard, really hard, and develop the mental and physical skills needed for success. ― Toronto Star Inherently fascinating and ultimately inspiring, The 4 Year Olympian is an extraordinary memoir. ― Midwest Book Review Candid and inspirational, The 4 Year Olympian is captivating from cover to cover and highly recommended. ― Midwest Book Review Jeremiah Brown won an Olympic silver medal as a member of the Canadian men’s eight rowing team at the London 2012 Olympic Games. He lives in Peterborough, Ontario. Growing up. My little sister, Julia, cried whenever I swore. My older sister, Jenny, dug her nails into my forearms when I bothered her one too many times. I’d look at the purple indents under the smooth skin where the top layer had been raked away and enjoy the burning sensation. The marks and the pain were like a badge of honour. Sibling skirmishes made up our childhood most days, and perhaps three times in my life led to an ear slap from our German mother, who just couldn’t take any more. She’d yell “ Ohrfeige !” as she jerked her shoulders up and whipped that straightened arm around to connect her palm with the side of my head. It was the same motion as a tennis forehand blasted down the line, and each one landed with brilliant accuracy. Unless severely provoked, my mom, a French immersion teacher, was and always has been a loving mother of three: sweet, kind, and patient. But there was a switch inside her that my troublesome nature always had weight on, like a finger applying slow pressure until I finally flipped off the lights inside my mom’s brain. I inherited the same volatility as my mom, but with a much shorter fuse. Playing board games with me was like walking through a minefield. If I won, everyone would survive. If I was losing, I might explode before the game even ended. The game Memory was a family favourite. My mom would sit across from me, glancing over wearily while Julia gleefully stacked pair upon pair as if she’d lived every scene on the cards. The German shepherd in the tall grass may as well have been her first pet; the card with a straight country road lined with poplar trees ― as knowable as our own cedar-lined driveway; one of the three pairs of slightly different bouquets of flowers ― like she’d just cut and arranged them herself. Mom knew I was churning inside. Julia’s eyes shone brightly above her round cheeks, effortlessly mapping out pairs in anticipation of her next turn. Her memory was too good for me, and it killed me. Jenny’s self-control was equally infuriating. She’d hold her head high and exhibit patience and excessive good sportsmanship until I could not stop myself from flicking her in the ear. Then her upper lip would recede, bearing vampire-like eye teeth, and she’d crush her eyebrows down and together so hard