The pain and pleasure of placing fourth at the Olympics: ‘I didn’t know whether to frame the certificate – or burn it’

The Olympics are the pinnacle of athletic achievement, the culmination of years of training, discipline, determination and sacrifice, all for the shot at winning a medal. So what happens when you miss out on a podium spot by seconds, or a fraction of a second? We spoke to five athletes who placed fourth about how it affected them and what they did next.

Bruno Fratus, Brazilian swimmer, 35

Placed fourth in the 50m freestyle at London 2012. Won bronze at Tokyo 2020

It was 15 years ago, but it feels like yesterday. I was so confident, so that fourth place threw me to a place of frustration and disappointment. Until I finally got my medal [eight years later], I felt like I was going through this really dark valley, trying to see the light.

Looking back, I don’t think I was overly confident in what I could achieve – I was just banking on something that doesn’t really get you the race. My training had been so painful, I thought there was no chance that anyone could have worked harder than I did – which is a little bit arrogant.

But that’s the thing about the Olympics: what’s the line between failure and success? For me, it was two-hundredths of a second. That’s why it’s so important that we’re talking about athletes’ mental health. I think if that conversation had been common 15 years ago, that fourth place wouldn’t have been so painful.

I’ve thought about quitting the sport many times, but after the disappointment of 2012, it was the opposite – I felt the urge to get back in the water the next day. It was just a matter of needing to get better, faster, stronger – to find ways of reaching the wall before everybody else.

For eight years, I was working towards this one goal. I learned to enjoy the process and have fun doing it, and not to focus on the outcome so much. My attitude towards the Olympics also became a little less romanticised. In London 2012, it had felt like: “I’m sure as hell supposed to be here.” In Tokyo 2020, it almost felt too big for me.

Winning the bronze felt like getting home after a long day at work, wearing tight shoes, and finally getting barefoot: it was the greatest feeling of relief ever. Fourth place at the Olympics is not a bad result, but the medal gave me peace of mind. It was almost like the universe aligned to give me permission to carry on with whatever else I wanted to do with my life.

I’m in Paris now as a broadcaster, and it’s by far the most fun I’ve ever had at an Olympics. I’m finally getting to enjoy the Games, not holed up in the village, waiting for my time to perform.

Alison Shanks, New Zealand cyclist (retired), 41

Placed fourth in women’s individual pursuit at Beijing 2008

Growing up, I played netball and basketball at a national level. I didn’t convert to cycling until I was 22. Come Beijing, I had really only been track cycling for two-and-a-half years. I went into the Olympics ranked ninth in the world, rode the first two rounds and, all of a sudden, I found myself in this medal ride. I just remember lying in my bed that night, with a shot at a medal the next day, with so much time to think about it all.

I think the notion of a medal potentially got the better of me. I probably hadn’t really committed to the belief that I was good enough to win, because the path there had been so quick. I was thinking: “Oh my gosh, the Olympic podium.”

I was disappointed to lose, because the medal was right there for the taking. But in the days after, I felt content with my performance: I’d ridden personal best and exceeded my ranking going in. The year after Beijing, I channelled that energy and belief to win my first world title, and in 2010 I won gold at the Commonwealth Games in Delhi: the pinnacle of my career.

But the Olympic event schedule changed between Beijing and London 2012, and the individual pursuit was taken out – so there was never a chance to go back for redemption. Around New Zealand, I became known as “the girl that got her event taken out of the Olympics”. It just made me realise that those opportunities come around once in a lifetime – you have to grab the moment.

As the years went on, the disappointment grew. Just tonight, I was watching the rowing final with my daughter and she asked me: “Mum, did you win an Olympic medal?” But, looking back, I don’t think I was ready to win a medal in Beijing. As you mature as an athlete, you learn to define your career by the things you can control. As cliche as it sounds, I think those who have that ability to enjoy the journey, and walk away with their heads held high no matter the result, are the ones who survive.

The Olympics probably set the foundations for the rest of my career. For the past decade I’ve been working with bodies and boards to develop New Zealand’s next-generation athletes. I draw on my own experiences. For a long time, it was thought you can’t have wellbeing and performance – but, actually, you can.

Adam Burgess, British slalom canoeist, 32

Placed fourth in the men’s C1 event at Tokyo 2020. Won silver at Paris 2024

That fourth place in Tokyo was really bittersweet. Canoe slalom is very much about what goes down “on the day”, and they’d set a really hard course – everyone was making mistakes. I thought: “Maybe, maybe, I’ve got a sniff at this” – but I didn’t think I was fast enough. Literally, the next boat passed me by 0.16 seconds.

My performance certainly wasn’t what I’d been hoping for, but the fact that it was such a difficult day probably made the result easier. My worst nightmare is to absolutely throw down, and be really happy with the run, and still fall short.

I remember a coach telling me, as I was walking back to the team area: “I promise you, you’ll be proud of this one day.” But when I got back to the Olympic Village there was a really big, fancy certificate waiting for me. I was like: “Great, thanks – do I frame it, or do I burn it?” In the end, I gave it to my mum, and she put it in a nice frame. When I saw it a month or so later on the living room wall, that’s when I felt proud – like: “Yeah, that is pretty cool.”

It ended up being fuel for the fire to go again. When even just qualifying in our sport is so difficult, it had built some self-belief – 95% of what I’ve been doing for years has been good enough. It’s about developing the ability to spot those tiny moments of opportunity, and to take them without being reckless.

We drew a line under Tokyo at the start of this season. I really wanted this race in Paris to come from a place of joy, in line with my values and how much I love canoe slalom – and right from the word go, in heats, I was absolutely loving it.

Of course I set out from every start line aiming to win – you’re probably not even going to make the top 10 otherwise – but I think it has to be about more than the medal, because those are so hard-earned. I’ve always loved that quote from Cool Runnings: “A gold medal is a wonderful thing. But if you’re not enough without one, you’ll never be enough with one.” That’s something I’ve tried to instil in myself, and in younger athletes I meet.

I did make a mistake in my medal event this year, but it didn’t cost me the gold. At first I felt frustrated, my heart was in my mouth – then I thought about my teammate Kim [Woods], who’d made a similar mistake the day before and still ended up with bronze, so I just pulled as hard as I could to get back to the gate.

The next thing I knew, I was there. I had no idea how much time I’d lost, but I felt this rush of excitement. That was the Olympic spirit taking over and helping me over the line. As soon as I saw the numbers on the board, I just felt sheer joy and elation.

The medal arrived at the hotel yesterday, in an enormous display box designed by Louis Vuitton. My mum can keep the fourth-place certificate, but this one’s staying with me.

Marten Van Riel, Belgian triathlete, 31

Placed sixth in the men’s individual event at Rio 2016, and fourth at Tokyo 2020. Placed 22nd at Paris 2024

After finishing fourth in Tokyo, the only thing that I wanted was a medal. Everything in the last three years, all the races, I did with just that one goal in mind. Coming 22nd, having hoped for a medal – honestly, it’s been difficult. I had higher hopes and expectations.

Triathlon is a smaller sport; the Olympics is the only race that really counts, but the years that go into it are very, very long. Had I come sixth or seventh or whatever in Tokyo, I would have maybe gone on to do Ironman, or maybe even stopped the sport. Instead, I put my other plans on hold just to chase that medal.

It changes everything for you, as a sportsperson: recognition, sponsorships. That’s the difficult thing: those couple of seconds that I was behind third place in Tokyo had a very big impact on my life. I’m super-disappointed for not fulfilling that dream now.

Honestly, I’ve felt a bit lost in the village: there’s not really anyone that cares about you, or comes to talk about how you feel. That’s the hard world of sports: you take the medal, everyone will remember it for ever. If you came fourth, no one will.

I’m pretty sure this was my last Olympics. I don’t know if I can do it all again – put everything on the line to be good on one day. It does feel a little bit like a failure, but you have to be realistic. By the LA Games in 2028, I’ll be 35 and, purely physiologically, on the way down. Honestly, I don’t think it’s worth it – there are other things I want to do.

It is kind of devastating, but there have to be losers for there to be winners – that’s what sports is all about. I’m still proud of the journey I made.

Zuzana Paňková, Slovakian slalom canoeist, 19

Placed fourth in women’s C1 event at Paris 2024

I always go into the competition focused on what I can control: how good my run is going to be. That’s it. I cannot control my placement.

I put everything into the run, but three girls were faster, and that’s the fact. There is that part where I was 1.2 seconds away from a medal, but I knew that I couldn’t have done better, and that helps.

At least fourth is the closest you can be without getting a medal – it’s better than sixth place or eighth, or not being in the final at all. Even when you tell people in the village that you came fourth, their reaction is different: “Oh, you were so close, you’ll get it next time.” It’s really nice. I’d been so focused on training, and feeling so much pressure: “I’m at the Olympics, and I want to be good – nobody understands.” When I got to the village, I realised that there are 10,000 people going through the same thing.

This is still the highest point of my four-year career, and it was an incredible experience. But there’s still that little thought: “I’ll get it next time.”