Hi,

"Hi, I'm David, and I'm a figure skater."

Those were the exact words I used to start every school year whenever teachers asked us to introduce ourselves.

Figure skating has never been just an activity for me. It's part of who I am. It's my passion. The ice is my happy place.

One of my coaches once told me that her favourite thing about me is that I smile every time I step onto the ice. She says she can tell I genuinely love this sport. My dad puts it differently: when he watches me skate, he says it looks like skating is my way of breathing.

Figure skating is one of the most demanding sports in the world. It combines artistry with incredibly difficult technical elements, and every tiny improvement is earned.

When I was little, I used to ask Santa Claus to make me jump higher.

Unfortunately, Santa wasn't a very good jump coach.

So I followed my mom's advice instead.

I started working on my flexibility, posture, and core strength. Little by little, things started clicking. I moved quickly through the competitive levels, and at the age of twelve I qualified for Team Ontario and competed at my first National Challenge.

When I moved up to Novice, I was fortunate to begin training with Darlene Joseph. She is an incredible coach, and over the years my trust and respect for her have only continued to grow.

Our journey together wasn't always easy or straightforward. She helped me overcome fears I didn't even realize I had, taught me to believe in myself, and pushed me to become the strongest version of myself—both as a skater and as a person.

A few months after we started working together, I finally landed my double Axel. For every figure skater, that's a huge milestone.

Then, almost immediately afterward, every rink in Ontario shut down because of COVID.

It felt like someone had taken away a part of my life.

I was devastated. More than anything, I was terrified of losing everything I had worked so hard to build.

Since I couldn't train on the ice, I decided I would outwork the situation.

I trained six to eight hours a day, every day.

While everyone else was filling shopping carts with toilet paper, my family was buying a treadmill, plyometric boxes, hurdles, resistance bands, and ankle weights.

I joined countless Zoom classes for jumping technique, ballet, dance, strength training, stretching—if it existed, I probably signed up for it.

From early morning until evening, every day had one goal: to come back stronger than I had left.

When the next lockdown happened, I had improved enough that I earned an exception allowing me to continue training on the ice.

By then I had all my triple jumps, and suddenly the podium didn't seem so far away anymore.

In 2021, I won the National Challenge.

Just three months later, I became Canadian Novice Champion.

Soon after, I received my first international assignment representing Canada.

From 2022 to 2025, I was proud to be a member of Skate Canada's NextGen Team. During those years I represented Canada internationally and had the privilege of standing on both national and provincial podiums multiple times.

Today I am preparing for my second Senior season as a singles skater.

At the same time, I've started an exciting new chapter in pairs skating.

My partner and I are both ambitious, hardworking, and determined. We believe we have the potential to compete not only at the highest level in Canada but internationally as well.

We're just getting started, and I can't wait to show what we're capable of.

If figure skating has taught me anything, it's that talent is only the beginning.

Hard work.

Patience.

Resilience.

Those are what truly make success possible.

Unfortunately, there's another reality every competitive athlete knows all too well.

Dreams are expensive.

Every time I step onto the ice, I need equipment that costs thousands of dollars. Boots wear out. Blades need replacing. Ice time, coaching, choreography, off-ice training, competitions, travel—the list never really ends.

My parents have sacrificed an incredible amount to help me chase this dream.

I work as much as I can myself, and every dollar I earn goes right back into skating.

But I also know that talent and hard work alone aren't always enough.

Without financial support, continuing to compete—and reaching my full potential—becomes increasingly difficult.

I'm incredibly proud of everything I've achieved so far.

And I truly believe my best skating is still ahead of me.