The frozen ponds and roller rinks of Washington state have produced some of America's most resilient Olympic hopefuls. Among them, Cooper McLeod and Corinne Stoddard stand out not just for their speed on the ice, but for a friendship that has withstood the crushing pressure of Olympic dreams and the sting of near-misses.
Their story begins in the Pacific Northwest, where two five-year-olds discovered their passion for skating. While most children were learning to ride bicycles, McLeod and Stoddard were already dominating local inline skating competitions. What started as weekend hobbies quickly evolved into something more profound—a shared destiny that would take them from the Puget Sound Speedskating Club to the world's biggest sporting stage.
The path to Olympic glory is rarely linear, and for McLeod, the road to the 2022 Winter Games in Beijing ended in heartbreak. At the Long Track Olympic Trials in Milwaukee, he missed qualifying by a margin so slim it barely registers on a stopwatch: 0.05 seconds. In the world of speedskating, where races are decided by hundredths of a second, this microscopic gap represented an ocean of disappointment.
"That was a big opportunity for me to learn," McLeod reflected on that pivotal 500-meter race. The Kirkland-raised athlete had entered the trials with confidence, certain he understood exactly what it would take to secure his spot on Team USA. "I was confident that I knew what I needed to do and where I was at, but clearly I was wrong," he admitted. "That's not a bad thing. You don't learn if you win when you think you are supposed to. You learn when you expect to win but then you lose."
While McLeod watched from home, his childhood friend Stoddard made the journey to Beijing. The Tacoma native had qualified for the short-track team, fulfilling a dream they had both shared since childhood. But her Olympic debut proved as challenging as McLeod's absence. During her first race, a devastating crash left her with a broken nose and likely concussion. Yet in a display of raw determination that defines Olympic athletes, she continued to compete.
For three subsequent events, Stoddard raced while breathing through only one nostril, her face swollen and painful. Her perseverance yielded a seventh-place finish in the 1,000 meters—a respectable result, but one that left her hungry for more. "I wasn't as competitive as I am now," she acknowledged. "Back four years ago, I wasn't a top skater, so it was more about the Olympic experience."
The bond between McLeod and Stoddard runs deeper than shared athletic pursuits. "She is like my sister," McLeod said, recalling the night before his ill-fated 500-meter trial. Stoddard had texted him, "All right, now it's your turn," moments after securing her own Olympic qualification. That message, filled with encouragement from someone who understood the weight of the moment, exemplified their relationship. Even after his failure to qualify, her support never wavered.
Their journey began in earnest at age eleven when they joined the Puget Sound Speedskating Club in Tacoma. Under the guidance of Coach Chang Lee, they honed their skills alongside other future Olympians. Lee's reputation as a developer of elite talent is well-established—his coaching tree includes legendary American speedskaters Apolo Ohno and J.R. Celski, as well as Stoddard's current teammate, 21-year-old Eunice Lee.
"Chang Lee has done such a great job developing Olympic skaters," Stoddard noted. "There are so many of us that have come from the Puget Sound club, which is cool because speedskating isn't a huge thing in Seattle. It is more of an East Coast thing. To see all of us from one state and one club making the Olympics every time is really cool."
The Pacific Northwest isn't traditionally known as a speedskating hotbed. The sport has deeper roots in regions with colder climates and more established ice cultures. Yet the Puget Sound club has defied expectations, consistently producing athletes who compete at the highest level. This success speaks to Lee's coaching philosophy and the dedication of athletes like McLeod and Stoddard who commit to the sport despite limited local resources.
In 2018, Stoddard made the pivotal decision to relocate to Salt Lake City, the headquarters of US Speedskating. The move placed her at the center of American speedskating, providing access to world-class facilities and training partners. McLeod followed two years later, and for a year, the two friends shared living quarters, their bond strengthening as they pursued their shared dream.
Living together in Salt Lake City allowed them to push each other in ways that transcended formal training. They shared meals, recovery strategies, and the emotional rollercoaster that comes with elite athletics. This period of cohabitation solidified their partnership, turning childhood friends into adult allies in the quest for Olympic excellence.
The disappointment of 2022 served as a catalyst for McLeod's transformation. Rather than dwell on what might have been, he undertook a comprehensive overhaul of his approach to the sport. He went "back to the drawing board and broke down everything (he'd) done," scrutinizing every aspect of his preparation.
The result was a complete revamp of his training regimen and lifestyle. He refined his diet, optimized his recovery protocols, and fine-tuned his technique. This meticulous attention to detail reflects a maturity born from failure—a recognition that at the elite level, marginal gains separate qualifiers from spectators.
"I definitely wouldn't be nearly as good as I am now had I succeeded in 2022," McLeod reflected, finding silver lining in his setback. The near-miss forced him to confront his weaknesses and address them systematically. In the intervening years, he has emerged as a stronger, more complete athlete, poised to capitalize on his next opportunity.
As the next Winter Olympics approach, both skaters find themselves in different positions than four years ago. Stoddard has Olympic experience under her belt and a renewed focus on competitive results rather than just participation. McLeod carries the lessons of his narrow failure and the confidence that comes from knowing he has left no stone unturned in his preparation.
Their story embodies the essence of Olympic sport—the intersection of personal relationships and individual excellence. While speedskating is inherently a solo endeavor, success rarely happens in isolation. The support system that McLeod and Stoddard have built, first in Washington and now in Utah, demonstrates the power of community in individual sports.
The Puget Sound Speedskating Club continues to serve as a pipeline for Olympic talent, with each generation of skaters inspired by those who came before. McLeod and Stoddard's journey from local rinks to national team represents a blueprint for young athletes in non-traditional sports markets. Their success proves that with the right coaching, dedication, and support, geographic limitations can be overcome.
For now, both athletes remain focused on the daily grind of training, each lap around the oval bringing them closer to their shared dream. The 2026 Winter Olympics in Milan-Cortina d'Ampezzo loom on the horizon, offering McLeod a chance at redemption and Stoddard an opportunity to build on her experience.
Their friendship, forged in childhood competition and tempered by the crucible of Olympic qualification, remains their foundation. Whether they stand on the podium together or simply share in the experience of representing their country, McLeod and Stoddard have already achieved something remarkable—a partnership that has elevated both athletes beyond what they might have accomplished alone.
In the end, their story is about more than speedskating. It's about the enduring power of friendship, the resilience required to chase seemingly impossible dreams, and the way shared experiences can transform individual pursuits into collective triumphs. From the roller rinks of Washington to the Olympic ice, Cooper McLeod and Corinne Stoddard continue to skate forward—together.