I was asked to photograph Caeli McKay, a Canadian Olympic diver, for Sport Calgary last summer. Although the images were never used, I felt they were worth sharing here.

Caeli walked me through her practice. How she warms up. How things build. I started shooting in the warm-up area. I was still adjusting. I usually need time to understand a space, especially when it’s a sport I’ve never photographed before.

When we moved onto the diving deck, something shifted. I began to see the pictures. She would stand on the platform, still against everything else. The background would fall away. At times she felt suspended, almost separate from the pool, the room, and the noise.

Later, on the three-meter board, the water came into play. Drops on her skin. A high shutter speed. The water froze into patterns in the air. You could see the movement clearly. The mechanics. The timing. The work inside the motion.

When I photograph, I’m usually looking for emotion first. Not big emotion. Just what’s there. I try to let light and movement support it. In this case, those elements lined up naturally. The images felt balanced. They didn’t need much from me.

I’d spoken with Caeli before on calls, but this was the first time meeting her in person. She has every reason to carry herself differently. Olympian. World medalist. Pan Am champion. Instead, she was calm. Open. Focused on the task in front of her.

She moved through practice steadily. One dive after another. Rhythmic. Precise. No performance for us. Just repetition. It felt like watching someone very comfortable inside their discipline.

At the time, I didn’t know this was shortly before she would announce her retirement. I’m grateful I was there. It felt like being allowed through a small, door of a career, right before it closed.