As I write this, it’s currently 7 am. After a long but smooth journey from Vancouver, I finally got to bed about 1 am and woke up at 5 am. After tossing and turning for a couple hours, I decided the best way to reset my circadian rhythm was to crack open the blinds, make myself a coffee (and a lot of water!) and get on with the day.

I do anticipate the jet lag and lack of sleep catching up with me sometime today, but for now I’m going to utilize this alertness and be productive.

I’ve had two tournaments in the last two weeks.

The first one was a 15k in St Louis, where I was the number 2 seed, and lost in the quarterfinals to an unseeded player. My opponent was in good form and nearly ended up nearly winning the entire tournament, but upon reflection, I don’t take much comfort in that.

Initially, I was most disappointed with the result. I was pleased with my movement and most of my ball striking, but something was still very off- and I couldn’t put my finger on it during the match.

I felt edgy when I had openings or semi-opportunities where I could apply pressure. I was constantly responding to my opponent’s attacks. It seemed to be up to her as to when I’d win points or games and when I’d lose. This creates a sense of unease because you don’t have much sense of control over the game.

Upon reflecting with a couple of my coaches and mentors, one major issue stuck out that had absolutely nothing to do with the quality of my length hitting, my movement, or even my error count.

It’s something even a non-squash player could pick up on.

My body language reflected the following sentiments:

“It looks like you don’t want to be there”

“You back down when they score a few points”

“It looks like a prison or a cage- not a place of performance and enjoyment”

Truth be told, I didn’t want to hear this at the time. I wanted to be objective, look at the “surface”, and address tactical things I did well and what I didn’t do well and fix those.

In fact, in some ways, I thought I’d actually played alright. I had worked hard. Moved well. I wanted to win.

However hearing those words above were rather hard to hear- because they were true.

Being completely truthful, I had not been looking forward to competing.

I wanted the result. I wanted the win. I wanted to casually walk home and having a relaxing dinner on the couch while watching lighthearted TV.

I wanted the feeling of the satisfaction of the win.

I didn’t want the fight. The battle. The challenge.

I wasn’t necessarily scared of doing the hard work. That wasn’t the issue.

The issue was I wasn’t craving the challenge.

This sparked a bigger, deeper, and more concerning question for me to answer: am I just not that competitive?

This question worried me greatly, as the “killer instinct” is something I think you’re born with and is a vital asset in sport.

I do think some people are naturally more competitive than others. Some people want to win at all costs. They want you to know that you’ve lost. They want to know that they are the best.

It is not my nature to be the “killer”. In soccer, I thrived as a midfielder- rather than a striker.

I am internally competitive, but my purpose has always been geared towards self improvement, or working towards a collective goal as a team, rather than wanting to beat someone mainly for the thrill of winning.

That’s part of the reason I love training- there’s always something to improve. There’s no “official” downside or result. You put in the work and you get better. The score doesn’t “mean” anything in training. It’s ALL about the process.

At this point, you may be reading this and thinking “oh Nicole, you’ve got this all wrong! You are doomed!”. Don’t worry- keep reading. There is some light at the end of the tunnel!

I was able to shift my mindset from 'wanting the win' to 'wanting the fight' in just a few days. Upgrade to a paid subscription below to read how!

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For many athletes, a major injury or the transition into motherhood can feel like the closing of a chapter. We tell ourselves we’ll “get back to it eventually,” but the road back often feels obscured by new responsibilities, a different body, and a nervous system that’s been through the ringer.

In my latest podcast episode, I sat down with Katherine—a former Harvard squash captain and Navy officer (and one of my most dedicated 1:1 clients!)—to talk about what it actually looks like to optimize a life for the long game.

Katherine isn’t just “playing again.” She is systematically auditing her health, her habits, and her nutrition to compete at the highest level of the Masters circuit. Her story is a masterclass in how to pivot from a “grind at all costs” mentality to a “high-efficiency” framework.

Listen to the full episode with Katherine

The Foundations of a Strategic Comeback

Returning from an Achilles tear is a physical battle; returning after childbirth is a structural one. Doing both simultaneously requires more than just grit—it requires a roadmap.

Katherine and I discuss the reality of these transitions and why the “comeback” isn’t a straight line. It’s about building a foundation that supports your current reality, not trying to force your 22-year-old training schedule onto your 30 or 40-year-old life.

Optimization as a Productivity Tool

One of the most interesting parts of our conversation was how Katherine’s “performance” shifts on the court began to bleed into her professional and personal productivity. We often view health as something that takes time away from our work, but Katherine found the opposite.

By pulling specific levers—like cutting out alcohol and sugar, and using data to track recovery—she didn’t just see her resting heart rate drop; she saw her mental clarity and daily energy skyrocket.

We dive deep into:

• Data-Driven Nutrition: Moving away from restriction and toward fueling for specific performance goals.

• The “No-Noise” Lifestyle: How removing inflammatory habits creates a ripple effect in your work-life balance.

• Longevity in the Masters Circuit: Why the goal isn’t just to be fit for the next tournament, but to be high-performing for the next decade.

Stop Exercising, Start Training

The biggest takeaway from Katherine’s journey is the shift in identity. Whether you are navigating a post-injury world or trying to find your “athlete self” again after becoming a parent, the key is moving from “just trying to get a workout in” to intentionally training for your life.

Katherine is living proof that your best athletic years aren’t behind you—they just require a better system.

Check out the full episode at the link below for the full breakdown of Katherine’s optimization audit.

Listen to the Podcast Episode on Spotify or Apple Podcasts

PS. If you’re looking for workouts to level up your own squash training, consider trying the Squashletic Training App! Click here for a free trial!

If I’m being honest, I’m not where I want to be squash-wise. Up until the last two weeks when I’ve committed to fully prioritizing my own training, I constantly felt as though I was playing catch-up.

I seriously felt the impact of this yo-yo cycle in my performances on court. It’s been a cycle of constantly restarting and trying to regain momentum.

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As a pro athlete, you learn a lot about the locus of control. You focus on what you can influence.

You can’t control your opponent’s behavior, but you can control how it affects you.

You can’t control the flight delays that disrupt your travel, sleep, and recovery, but you can control your bedtime, your warm-up routines, and your rehab—whatever it takes to care for your body.

You can’t control a practice partner canceling last minute (into the “bad books” they go!), but you can take ownership of your training and find another way to be productive. Hello, solo sessions and ghosting!

The reason I’ve felt so irritated until recently is that I haven’t managed my time and energy well. This allowed more “uncontrollables” to come into play and affect my training and performances.

I caught a stomach bug while I was commentating/working Tournament of Champions, which likely couldn’t have been avoided, but the work schedule meant that it took me much longer to recover. Therefore, I was also unable to train during this time. It took over a week to recover, and then I had to rebuild my fitness from scratch. In an attempt to “cram” a bit of extra training before my next tournament, I ended up injuring myself the day before my first match.

I managed to hobble through that match and a following one in a tournament a few days later (with minimal training), but the travel eventually caught up with me and I developed a cold. I then took a few days off-court to travel for my cousin’s wedding. (You can read about that in my post on Cancun, which turned out to be a blessing and was likely necessary for my injury to rest and my cold to clear).

Nonetheless, it meant that upon my return, I was once again playing catch-up to prepare for another tournament in less than a week.

You get the picture: you look up, and suddenly six weeks have vanished.

When you’re a professional athlete, you measure success by performance, often at the expense of other metrics. Aside from the setbacks, the other projects taking up my energy have actually been going well:

• I commentated three events for SquashTV (Cleveland, TOC, and Houston).

• I played an exhibition in Charlottetown—a whirlwind, heartwarming experience.

• I worked with several students who are truly dream clients.

• I ran another round of Squash Shape for a group in Australia. (How cool is it to help people on the other side of the world?)

These are all amazing, positive opportunities that I genuinely enjoy. Yet, they require time and energy. That extra effort has to come from somewhere.

It might mean being flat on court and failing to make progress in practice. (Not every practice is a breakthrough, but racking up several stagnant sessions in a row is a red flag).

It might mean a weakened immune system or a body that lacks the resources to recover, leading to injury.

Something has to give.

The good news? This is all within my control. I decide where my time and energy go. I can only be annoyed at myself for failing to recognize my limits and taking on more than I could handle—or rather, more than I could handle without sacrificing my performance.

I’m not playing squash to stay the same; I want to improve and move up the rankings. At the professional level, “maintenance” work only guarantees you stay exactly where you are.

Key Takeaways & Reminders:

• Energy is a finite resource. If you overextend, there is always a cost—and you don’t always get to choose whether that cost is your performance or your health.

• If you have several “number one” priorities, you have none. You are diluting your hard work. You cannot reach an elite level in one arena if your best energy is divided among three others.

• Schedule smarter. Being awake for 15 hours doesn’t mean you “need” to be training or working for all of them. (A bit ironic, I realize, as I write this at 9 p.m.)

• Protect your “Elite Energy.” What activities get your absolute best? If you spend your peak energy on tasks that don’t support your highest priority, that priority will always play second fiddle.

Spreading yourself thin across multiple activities rarely leads to excellence. It leads to being above average, at best. When the goal is to be exceptional, prioritizing means ruthlessly choosing activities that enhance your main goal rather than detracting from it.

Welcome back to the Squashletic Podcast (also known as Train Hard Work Smarter). This is another delayed episode, originally recorded back in March 2025. I’m just releasing it now because, frankly, I didn’t get around to the editing in a timely fashion!

In the future, I hope to be more timely, but I figured it was better to share these recaps now and see what you think. If you enjoy this style of episode, I’ll be sure to include more of them.

In this episode, I discuss the quick turnaround from the Vancouver Copper Event to the Australian Open—a Gold event that took place just a few days later on the other side of the Pacific Ocean. I had a very short timeframe to make some adjustments, and I’m really glad I did.

Embracing the Grind: Vancouver to Brisbane

Following a disappointing loss in Vancouver, I flew to Brisbane for the Australian Open. I knew the turnaround would be tight, and I was a little worried about the travel.

Leading up to the tournament, I didn’t purposely try to train while exhausted, but on days when I felt “off,” I embraced it. I didn’t get upset about it. I told myself, “You’re going to feel rough with jet lag anyway, so this is just good practice for not feeling your freshest.” That mindset shift allowed me to push through the fatigue rather than getting annoyed by it.

Mental vs. Technical Adjustments

I was determined to make the necessary mental and tactical adjustments from my loss in Vancouver for Brisbane. Unlike technical or physical changes, which can take weeks to ingrain, mental shifts can happen in days.

As I’ve mentioned before in previous episodes, I perform best when I focus on Performance Objectives—matters under my control, like effort levels or a specific game plan—rather than Outcome Objectives, like winning or losing.

In Vancouver, I was too concerned with outside factors, like playing in front of a home crowd and my lack of recent tournament experience. For Australia, I was determined not to let a lack of discipline be the cause of a poor performance.

Navigating the Time Change

Fortunately, the 14-hour direct flight from Vancouver to Brisbane was efficient. Because Brisbane is so far ahead, the time difference actually felt manageable once I pushed through the first day.

My first match was scheduled for 3:00 PM, which worked perfectly with my early-waking jet lag pattern. I could get out to the courts for a 9:00 AM practice, come back to eat, and head back out for the match feeling sharp. Being on this early wake-up pattern was actually a secret weapon for this tournament.

Match 1: The 9-3 Trap

I was playing Aira Azman, a talented 20-year-old from Malaysia. She’s a tricky player who reads the game well and prefers short rallies. Given the hot and humid conditions in Brisbane, my goal was to keep the rallies long and hard.

I won the first game 11-9 and went up 9-3 in the second. Then, I made an “amateur error”. I drifted out of the present moment and started thinking about what it would be like to be up 2-0.

As soon as that thought entered my head, the momentum shifted. I got edgy, Aira started playing better, and I lost that game 11-9. That slide continued into the third, which I lost 11-4. In the past, I might have fallen victim to that pattern—the lower-ranked player gets a lead, loses it, and can’t find their way back. This time, I refused to let it slip.

The Power of “Courage”

By the fourth game, it was incredibly sweaty and we had both put a lot of work into the match. I knew I had to make life hard for her.

Between every rally, I repeated one word to myself: Courage. This was a takeaway from a conversation with one of my coaches (and one of the best with respect to the mental game, Graeme Williams). I just focused on being brave, limiting her options, and staying positive without taking unnecessary risks.

When she hit the tin on the final point, I looked at her in disbelief. I was so engrossed in the process that I hadn’t realized it was over. I felt very proud—not just of the win, but of the mental effort it took to battle back after losing so many points in a row. That’s the benefit of back-to-back events: you can course-correct almost immediately.

Match 2: vs Salma Hany

The next day, I played Salma Hany, who was world #12 at the time. It was a big step up. The first game was a shock to the system, but I regrouped in the second.

The conditions were bouncy, and I realized I was frantically overrunning the ball. I managed to relax, improved my consistency, and extended the rallies. While I lost the second game 11-8 and the match 3-0, it was a much better performance.

I’ve started a new habit: even if I feel badly about a match, I force myself to watch the replay immediately. You’re always excited to watch your wins, but the matches that feel “bad” are usually the ones where the most learning happens.

3 Key Reflections from the Australian Open

• Mental Resilience: I was proud of how I stayed in the fight against Aira Azman when I was down 2-1.

• The Self-Coaching Sheet: I created a notebook with mental cues, tactical notes, and performance objectives. It felt like a “calm version” of myself was there coaching me between games. I highly recommend this if you’re traveling without a coach.

• Positive Mental State: I hadn’t done a big trip since Hong Kong in December, so I was energized and excited to be on the road. That positivity definitely translated to my resilience on court.

The flight home was rough—23 hours of travel from Brisbane to Newark—and the jet lag finally hit me hard on the backend. But overall, Australia was a success.

Thanks to the tournament sponsors who made this tournament possible, and my coaches who encouraged me through the “ups” and helped me through the downs.

As you will learn by reading this Substack, the pro athlete life can be emotionally volatile (more to come on that soon!), but having the right people in your corner can help you come through those tough times as a stronger, more resilient person.

I was recently in Cancun for my cousin’s wedding. Since I was five days out from a tournament, I knew I wanted to source some squash in this beachy tourist town. Even without a partner, keeping my eye in with solo hitting or “ghosting” helps ease the return to the court. It brings your timing back quicker and saves you from the dreaded “squash butt”—that specific soreness where you can’t sit down the next day without wincing.

Through a former colleague, I found a contact who knew the local “scene” (of which there is effectively none). She directed me to an Autodromo (race track). When I showed up with my mom, I discovered a new Padel club with one lone, aging squash court tucked away in the corner.

The Challenge of Concrete

The court was made entirely of concrete—including the floor. I knew immediately I wouldn’t be moving much; the risk of slipping was high, and the impact would be brutal on my joints.

Within the first few hits, the challenge became clear. The floor wasn’t smooth, causing erratic bounces, and the walls weren’t “true.” If my drive hit the side wall, it didn’t glide; it kicked out harshly and stopped, killing any rhythm. Furthermore, if my racquet head deviated even slightly upon impact, the ball wouldn’t return straight. I felt like a beginner whacking the ball around.

During those first 10 minutes, the internal monologue was desperate:

• This is pointless.

• I’d only be doing this because I have a tournament next week.

• Would other pros even bother with this?

• Is this even productive?

I wanted to call it a day after 15 minutes. But then I considered the investment: I’d traveled 30 minutes to get there, people had gone to great trouble to organize the court, and I’d already paid my $12. I was there; it was my job to make the most of it.

The Power of Adaptation

I began to reflect on how often we face less-than-ideal conditions in competition. Whether it’s the extreme humidity of Cartagena, Colombia in mid-summer, slippery floors in Egypt, or glass courts that become transparent in broad daylight, pro squash is a game of constant adaptation.

“Sub-optimal conditions require you to do one thing: Adapt. If you can adapt, you can grow.”

I thought back to competing in Cartagena. That experience set a mental “backstop” for me. Last year, during a tough five-setter at the Pan Am Championships, when others were struggling with the humidity, I simply told myself: “This isn’t as bad as Cartagena.” Because I had survived worse, I was more resilient, and able to come away with the W.

Resilience by Necessity

History is full of athletes who turned suboptimal conditions into a competitive edge.

Consider Maria Toorpakai Wazir. A Pakistani woman who once disguised herself as a boy to compete in Taliban controlled tribal regions, she was eventually forced to stop playing for years due to death threats. During that time, she practiced solo hitting inside her bedroom. She credits that confined, fast hitting for her incredibly strong wrist and forearm—a physical trait rarely seen in the women’s game.

She acquired a world-class skill specifically because of her limitations.

We see the same in soccer players from underprivileged areas who learn the game using balls made of scrap material. These athletes often develop more robust problem-solving skills and a larger “toolkit” because they never had the luxury of perfection.

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The Shift: From Frustration to Focus

With this mindset, my solo hit changed. I realized this court was actually a rare opportunity to sort out technical irregularities. Because the walls weren’t forgiving, I couldn’t mask errors with pace. I had to hit the ball perfectly clean and perfectly straight.

I ended up hitting for a full hour. The first 15 minutes were a mental debate; the final 45 were some of the most productive minutes I’ve had in solo in weeks. I made a small adjustment to my grip and became hyper-focused on the racquet face at impact. It was mentally stimulating, fun, and technically rewarding.

The Takeaway

I’m not suggesting you plan to self-sabotage. Don’t chase a Personal Best when you’re dehydrated or ill, and don’t risk injury for the sake of building mental toughness. However, when life or the environment hands you suboptimal conditions, don’t crumble.

Showing up when you’re tired, nervous, or playing on a “bad” court teaches you how to play a “higher percentage” game. It builds a reserve of experience you can draw upon when you’re in the fifth game of a final and everything feels difficult.

Next time the conditions aren’t perfect, tell yourself: This is where I become a more resilient competitor.

If you want to put this theory into practice, join the Squashletic Training Academy for step by step workouts and programs inside the app.

Activate your 7 day free trial!

I’m Nicole: a Canadian professional squash player with a highest world ranking of #39, a certified personal trainer & nutrition coach, and online business owner. I’m originally from Victoria, BC, but have been based in NYC for the better part of the last 10 (!!!) years.

Why start a Substack?

I miss writing. (Throwback to my health and fitness blog, “Squash on Squash,” from back when I was a senior at University—RIP!).

Through this channel, I aim to share the knowledge, expertise, and findings from my training, competitions, business, and work with clients. You can expect to learn something new through my daily experiences.

Instagram is great—I actually do enjoy it—but there’s only so much you can convey in limited characters, and everyone’s attention span is so short. When I make Instagram posts, I’m (hopefully) helping people, but it’s not as satisfying as writing an article where you usually learn more as you write.

Instagram is like fast fashion: cheap and trendy. Writing is like haute couture: timeless and carefully curated.

What can you expect from this Substack?

In short:

• Behind the scenes of a professional athlete: If you know anything about the squash tour, you’ll know it’s not always glamorous or filled with prize money.

• The “Squashletic” life: A look into my world as an online business owner.

• Honest recaps: Learnings from my matches, practices, and life as a pro.

• The Toolkit: Training tips, motivation, mindset, workouts, and nutrition.

If you want to peek into the life of a pro athlete while gaining some knowledge at the same time, this is for you.

The Vow: How the fitness obsession started

I was always into sports growing up. But the obsession with health and fitness started when I was 15, after I lost a match at the US Junior Open to an American girl in five games. This girl would eventually go on to be a teammate of mine at Princeton (ha!), but at the time, I was SO pissed off. From then on, I vowed to be the fittest player on the court and never lose a match because of fitness again.

The Princeton Wake-Up Call

Fast forward to college at Princeton University. I had a bit too much “fun” my first couple of months and found myself playing number 8 (out of 9) on the ladder. I was the top recruit in my class, yet I was nearly at the bottom of the lineup.

My coach wasn’t impressed. After a stern team talk and weighing myself one day—only to realize I had gained 10 pounds in two months—I knew I wasn’t being the best version of myself.

That was the catalyst. I reclaimed my discipline, dove into nutrition, and got my butt in gear. I ended the year at #3 on the ladder, where I stayed or improved for the rest of my four years.

The “Tug of War”

Throughout college, I dabbled in road bike racing and triathlons while training like a maniac for squash. I would sneak in extra morning workouts at Dillon Gym before our afternoon practices. My coach actually banned me from doing this because she felt it would detract from my on-court performance.

However, those extra sessions gave me the confidence to win. My coach and I continued that tug-of-war for the rest of my time at Princeton. (That’s another story for another day, but I am happy to report that she and I buried that hatchet as soon as I played my last match, and have been on great terms ever since.)

Bottom line: I became single minded about how I was going to play (ie. outlast everyone).

It worked- despite a torn meniscus (which I competed on all year), and a looming senior thesis, I ended my senior year as a first team All-American, ranked #5 in the collegiate individual rankings, and reaching the semi-finals of the individual collegiate championship.

The NYC Hustle

Upon graduating, I knew I wanted to pursue human performance. My blog, Squash on Squash, actually landed me a few interviews, including one at Body Space Fitness in NYC. I showed up in leggings and a tank top, carrying a massive racquet bag. The owner, Kelvin, took a chance on me and hired me as a personal trainer before I even had my certification.

For the next few years, I dove into training. My squash career was slowly picking back up after knee surgery and a bad car accident, but it was a grind. I was burning the candle at both ends:

• Spending all my hours at the gym working, learning, or training.

• Coaching squash at the Princeton Club in midtown.

• Coaching in Westchester on Sundays (my only day “off”) from 8:30 AM to 5:00 PM straight—usually after being out until 4:00 AM. (The things you can only do when you’re 22!)

The Suburbia Grind

About a year later, I had to get on a new visa, and my coach at the time offered me a position in Stamford at Chelsea Piers Connecticut. It was a big decision to move, but I took it. My roommates and I were moving on to different things, and it was the right time for me to do something different.

However, I soon found myself working a lot more than I had anticipated.

I would routinely spend 10 hours per day at the club (10 am to 8 pm), training twice during that time, and coaching from 4-8 pm. After a few months, I got injured, and struggled with that injury for several months which was very challenging mentally. I was not enjoying playing, nor coaching. My whole life was squash and it wasn’t going well.

The COVID Pivot

Eventually, I realized I needed to step away from the gym and coaching full-time in person to focus on my pro career. Then COVID hit. The club shut down, and the break was much needed. I needed time off the court without pressure to heal a chronic Achilles tendinopathy issue.

But it also made me think about the future. After the brief sourdough & baking phase and the “stir-crazy” TV days, I needed a project.

• I started Duolingo.

• I studied for the LSAT.

• I started GMAT prep (after speaking to a bunch of lawyers who regretted their careers)

Then I asked myself: Do I even like business? Maybe I should just try to start one and see.

Building an “Empire”

I dove into online business because the world was shut down.

I had a niche: squash players! I remember sitting out on the deck of the club one day with a friend, brainstorming my “Empire.” It sounded far-fetched at the time, but I knew I wanted to create something with impact.

Since then, I’ve moved back to NYC, launched dozens of programs, designed my training app, and refined my online coaching processes. 90% of my work is now online, which means I can set my own schedule, travel, and help people all over the world.

Where I am now

Sometimes, when I’ve had a long day and I’m writing a training program at 10 PM, I remind myself of how fortunate I am to have come this far. Gone are the days of coaching 6-8 hours/day and fitting in training around work.

Or, I think back to when I first left my gym job at Body Space Fitness in order to pursue my squash and was desperately trying to make up the income with bits of coaching here and there.

I haven’t had a straightforward path, but I wouldn’t change it. The skills I developed allow me to do what I do now. I’ve structured my life to be able to compete, train, and travel, while scaling my business as much as my energy allows.

Do I sometimes get the balance wrong? Oh, yes. That’s something I’ll discuss more in this Substack. But it’s a privilege to be tired from the pursuit of doing something I love.

Thanks for being here. It means a lot!