When Lisa Dobriskey stepped onto the Olympic track in London in 2012, she had already battled through injuries, a life-threatening pulmonary embolism, and the weight of a nation’s hopes. But nothing could prepare her for the race that would go down as the dirtiest in Olympic history.
Dobriskey, who had won Commonwealth gold and world silver, was competing on home soil, and the roar of 80,000 people was both electrifying and terrifying. Yet, beneath the surface, the race was tainted. Moments after finishing 10th, she openly voiced what many suspected: “I don’t believe I’m competing on a level playing field.”
She was right. The eventual winner, Asli Cakir Alptekin, and silver medallist Gamze Bulut, both from Turkey, were later banned for doping. Over the next few years, four more athletes from that final—including Russia’s Tatyana Tomashova—were exposed and disqualified, leaving a trail of revoked medals and shattered careers.
For athletes like Dobriskey, American Shannon Rowbury, and Britain’s Laura Weightman, the revelations brought bittersweet vindication. Rowbury, originally finishing sixth, only learned she would finally receive an Olympic bronze 13 years later, after nearly giving up on a sport that repeatedly failed to protect clean competitors.
Even with robust testing at London 2012, athletes still found ways to cheat. Years of re-testing, whistleblower revelations, and tightened anti-doping measures followed, but the scars for many clean athletes remain.
“I refuse to be sad about good news,” Rowbury says now. “Even after 13 years, justice can be served.”
