Lindsey the Person

I was born in San Antonio, Texas on July 22, 1985 at 1:21pm to my mother Regina and my father A. Ron Carmichael, both of whom are loving parents in the medical profession. As the story goes, I was supposed to have two family names, double Scotts, Lindsay Carmichael... but my mom was a little dizzy on the meds from the Cesarian section and misspelled my name on the birth certificate. An unlikely beginning, I know, but I've always quite liked being Lindsey-with-an-E, just as I like being a Texan and an Austinite. All three are incredibly unique distinctions.

Lindsey the Archer

My motto is a John Wooden quote: "Don't what you cannot do interfere with what you can do." Diagnosed with McCune Albright at age 4, I’ve been shooting archery since age 12. I got my start at the recommendation of a math teacher in middle school, taking my first archery class with Alex and Racae Meyer in the Austin JOAD Archers. I began competing a year or two into the sport and even after my first Nationals where half my arrows ended up behind the target, I was completely hooked. Nothing had ever challenged me in such a way before. Nothing had ever enouraged me to do my very best, before I found archery. I’ve taken State and National championships in disabled and able-bodied divisions, from California to Texas, Spain to Korea.

At the 2004 Paralympics in Athens, I set a world record in the qualifier, tying with Chinese archer Wang Yanhong. I couldn't quite handle the stress but ended up finishing at an admirable 6th place. After I came home, I battled through two years of the often career-ending phenomenon known as "target panic" and dealt with the injuries of overuse that were brought on by this anxiety. The years before Beijing for me were marked with painful desperation and an almost blind dedication to my goal of making the Team to Beijing. I tried everything from positive self talk and meditation to hypnosis and Thought Field Therapy to overcome target panic, and I did--for a while. Over time I began to realize that fixing the symptoms in no way helped me move on from the problem--which was an obsession with perfection.

The winter of 2008, as I was throwing every ounce of effort I had into making the Beijing Team, was punctuated by some of the most bitter, miserable, cold tournaments I've ever experienced. At the same time, I felt bouyed by the friends and family who supported me no matter what. As the spring outdoor archery season picked up, I knew something had to change--and soon. I rested my back injury as much as possible, put a lot of time into positive self talk and meditation, then released myself from the fear that held me captive. To this day, I am certain that it was the simple act of acceptance that helped me overcome my target panic. I accepted everything that might happen to me, miserable or miraculous, and for that I was stronger, happier, and freer than I ever had been before. It allowed me to find the necessary mental toughness to overcome some devastating moments in Beijing--everything from missing the target to losing a shootoff by a single point--and to triumph in the end.

Against all odds, I won bronze in Beijing. I was the first American female archer in over two decades to bring home a medal. I simply cannot put into words how proud I am to be able to do that for my country. On a personal level, I know I earned every ounce of that beautiful weighty jade-rimmed medal, and that no matter what I do for the rest of my life I will always be a medalist. And yes, it was worth it.

Lindsey the Writer

Unlike my archery career, I have no memories of the day I decided to become a writer. That was perhaps a slower evolution of goals and interests from a simple joy of reading, through my journalism phase in high school and beyond into college. I worked with the Varangian Chronicles at Lago Vista High School during my freshman year and after watching the paper disband with the graduating class, decided to found my own paper in my Junior Year. I became editor of The Viking Voice, even though I was extensively involved with University Interscholastic League writing events, everything from News, Feature, and Headline Writing to Ready Writing, which is a competitive two-hour essay-writing event. I took that to the State Level in 2002 and won a silver medal for my essay entitled "Art is Concentrated Life." To this day, out of all the activities I took on in high school, I am proudest of that accomplishment.

Whether in archery or writing, I certainly have a competitive streak. After an interim in which I threw myself into poetry, of all things, began keeping a personal blog on LiveJournal, and started classes at the University of Texas, I set my heart on writing novels for a living. I have gone on to "compete" in two National Novel Writing Months, both of which I won with no small effort. Of course, NaNoWriMo has a marathon mentality; you win by crossing the finish line of 50,000 words after 30 days of solid writing. It's exhilirating and has helped hone my untested skills as an author, but I have not technically finished either book. The first could be classified as Steampunk fantasy. The second novel is much closer to home--an attempt to bring some of my own experiences to light in a completely fictional account of two friends and archers striving for an Olympic dream. You can read excerpts of this work-in-progress in the writing section of this website.

My goal in writing is to have at least one book on the NY Times Best-Seller List by 2010. Right now, I simply don't know if I will be able to meet that goal, but that does not mean I won't keep trying. You try and set goals that are attainable, but sometimes that isn't enough. More than that, in order to live large you have to dream big. Aim for the stars, and maybe you'll hit your mark.

My Biography on the US Olympic/Paralympic website