With the mentorship of legendary coach Vitaly Petrov, EJ joined the elite “six-meter club” and competed among the sport’s best. Now, as he aims for new heights, one question remains: how high can he go?
This opportunity came from a random meeting with the legend Sergey Bubka in Manila. He was running for president of World Athletics, and he happened to be campaigning. I went there just to get a shirt autographed that was supposed to be it, just a quick five-minute thing. But it turned into an hour or two, and we ended up talking about pole vaulting. The next thing I knew, he opened up a program that World Athletics had at the time, and it was an opportunity for me to train abroad.
I didn’t know who my coach would be or even where I’d be training. They just told me it would be at one of their high-performance training centers. So, I met the standard, and before I knew it, I was on a plane with my poles and my dad. Next thing, I was in Formia, surrounded by legends of the sport. Thiago Braz was here at that time, along with other big names, and I was just this kid from Asia who wasn’t even that good yet.
I remember meeting my coach for the first time. He just said, “Ciao, Bello,” and I thought, “Wow, that’s the legend Vitaly Petrov—he’s going to be my coach.” I had no idea this would happen. It’s been a fairytale, honestly. I couldn’t have made this possible on my own, even if I used every connection and resource I had.
It's repetitive, mundane. But that’s what it takes. Formia is a really small town; other than the training center here, there’s not much else. We only have one fast-food chain, and that’s pretty much it. I think it’s the perfect place to focus on the craft, though. If you want to be obsessed with something, if you want to do it day in and day out, this is the place for it. Formia is ideal for training—the weather, the conditions, the facilities here. It’s perfect for really growing and developing your skills.
It’s getting harder. It used to feel easy, almost like an escape from Manila and school—a kind of vacation coming back here. But when I tore my ACL, my view of the sport shifted. I started seeing it in a more mature way, understanding that there’s not a place like this in the Philippines yet.
There’s a job to be done, and I know what it takes. My coach and training partner have shown me what it means to win and be among the best. Unfortunately, that requires sacrifices— being focused on your craft, day in and day out. Formia is a small town, and honestly, anyone in their 20s would rather be in a big city like Manila or Singapore. But if you want to zone in, focus, and obsess over what it takes to be great, this is the place.
As I get older, I realize life isn’t all about sport. When you face adversity and think about retirement, you start to see there’s a life beyond. I used to be so obsessed that if I had a bad day in pole vaulting, everything felt terrible. But now, I see that it’s not the end of the world. I still have my family, I’m alive, and I can look forward to tomorrow. My perspective is broadening. I see that there’s more to life than competing or obsessing over this sport.
"As I get older, I realize life isn’t all about sport. When you face adversity and think about
retirement, you start to see there’s a life beyond."
Injuries have to be up there. They come and go, and sometimes they don't go but rather end your career! I faced that in 2017, when I tore my ACL right before the SEA Games. The day after I sustained the injury, I was jogging, thinking, “It’s a little painful, but I can manage.” But when they confirmed it was a full ACL tear, I had to choose: risk further damage or get the surgery. It was a hard decision because I was the favorite to win and only needed to clear the opening bar. But people around me gave solid advice, reminding me that SEA Games come and go. If I worsened the injury, I might never walk properly again.
It was devastating. I’d trained hard all year, was in top form, and had just a bronze medal in Odisha, India. But with one awkward jump, everything changed. After surgery, I couldn’t walk. I was on crutches, starting from zero again. Mentally, I crumbled at times. I remember training alone in our little gym with mirrors, watching my leg atrophy during rehab. Seeing that reflection was rough—I felt sorry for myself. I didn’t know if I’d ever make it back, or if I’d even come close to where I am now.
I had six months to dig deep and decide: am I just going to be a student, or am I going to pursue this thing that drives me? I was raised in a family of realists, and I knew not everyone gets to do what they love. But I needed to give it a go. I set 2020 as my deadline; if I didn’t make the Olympics, I would go back to school, even if it meant giving up my scholarship. It was tough. My family wasn’t thrilled, but I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t try.
See that's the funny thing, I was able to overcome the ACL injury and reach my goal of competing at the Tokyo Olympics in 2020 (2021 after the competition got pushed back because of COVID). And yet, Tokyo's result was tough for me because, as my coach said, it was my medal to lose at that point. I knew I was in good shape; I had been jumping consistently well and was healthy. It was up to me to grab it. But things happen, and I believe they happen for a reason. (EJ finished 10th during that competition).
Looking back, I realize I may not have been ready at that point. Physically, I was prepared, but mentally and in terms of my experience and understanding of the sport, I wasn’t as deep into it as I needed to be. Going into the competition, I wasn’t favored to win, but I was having the season of my life. If there was a dark horse, I was one of them.
I was capable; it wasn’t that I was beaten or out-vaulted by a height I had never reached. I had jumped higher before. There were a lot of mental factors involved that I didn't expect. Some equipment issues didn’t pan out, and there were other things happening in the background that were heavy for me to deal with.
But there are no excuses—I faltered. I should have been able to hold myself together and really push for it. I guess I wasn’t experienced enough and made a mistake. However, I've learned a lot since then, and I think I’ve grown. My understanding of the sport has improved, and I now appreciate the value of every competition more.
The Diamond League is unique. It's a series of 15 one-day events taking place in various cities around the world between April and September. It’s an invitational, but only the best of the best are invited, so it always looks like an Olympic final or a World Championship-level competition. Athletes from all over the world want to compete in the Diamond League, and everyone wants to win it—or at least experience the dynamics of it.
It’s the last main event before the Paris Olympics, held in the same city. The main reason we’re going to the Paris Diamond League is to hopefully jump in the Olympic stadium and get a feel for it. Even though things are standardized, every arena has its own character—how the wind blows, the way the stadium’s setup affects airflow, and how the runway feels. Unfortunately, it won’t be in the exact same stadium as the Olympics, but it’s still in Paris, and it’s the last big meet for pole vaulters before then.
Everyone who’s invited will want to be there, and the competition will be tough. It’s a good way to see where I stand among the best in the world and to simulate the kind of high-stakes environment I’ll face at the Olympics. You can’t fully replicate the Olympic experience, but this is about as close as it gets.
It makes you a good pole vaulter! (Laughs). I guess six meters has always been a barrier—like the four-minute mile or the 10-second mark in the 100 meters. These are the barriers that separate the good from the great.
For those of us who have to jump six meters, it’s always been unique. For me, it was a dream. I never thought I could achieve it, but in time I gradually inched closer to it. Then, at the World Championships in 2022, I realized, “I can actually do this.” I knew I still had a lot of mistakes to correct and room for improvement. I thought, “Why not?” That extra six centimeters isn’t that far.
When I jumped it, I didn’t initially realize it was six meters. I was just focused on leading the competition. Then, I looked at the video and thought, “Oh, shoot, I just cleared six meters!” That’s when I ran to my coach. I knew this was a landmark for him too. He has coached many athletes, but I believe there are only three who have jumped over six meters. I felt very proud to be one of those athletes.
I’ve never really been proud to just compete; I’ve often taken it for granted. Competing for the Philippines is not a right; it’s a privilege, and I mean that with every word. There was a time when I wasn’t even able to represent the Philippines. While I was competing, people knew I was Filipino, but my federation wasn’t endorsing me in competitions. I was as close to being a refugee as you could be in the circuit.
Now, the pride I take in competing for the Philippines comes from wanting to show what Filipinos can achieve. An American guy named Jim Lafferty opened my perspective on how Filipinos see ourselves and how he believes in the Philippines. As a nation, we have something unique to bring to the world.
However, one of the things we lack is self-belief—the belief that we can be the best at anything we set out to do. You've heard this: every American believes they could be president, or if you want to be the best in the world in what you do, you can. In contrast,Filipinos we often downplay ourselves. We might think, “We’re good, but we’re not the best.”
Every time you see someone chase their dream, there's often a sense of doubt. You need to convince yourself that you can do it, and that’s what inspires me to perform at my best. I never thought my success would inspire more than just kids or that it would create such a generational effect. I hope kids everywhere see that being Filipino isn’t a disadvantage; it’s just a nationality. You can be one of the best if you want to be.
"One of the things we lack is self-belief—the belief that we can be the best at
anything we set out to do."
There are a lot of drawbacks to performing under pressure. I think it’s easier to compete without the spotlight. You don’t need to have nerves of steel, although that can be learned.
I’ve learned to love it. One of the famous quotes is, "Pressure is a privilege," and I truly believe that. That’s why I always say I’m privileged to be in the position I’m in. I have the opportunity to make history in the sport I love. It’s not so much a negative pressure anymore; it’s more like how my dad explained it—everything is a bonus.
Some people see it as a drawback, while others view it as a plus. Right now, I would say it’s a plus. It used to feel like a disadvantage when all eyes were on me, but there’s a reason for that attention: people expect me to win and deliver great performances.
"There’s a nation behind me, and that gives me purpose."
With that expectation comes responsibility; you’ve given them a reason to expect excellence. There’s no point in winning gold if nobody cares. There’s a nation behind me, and that gives me purpose. So, as I said, I’m in a very good place. I think I’m healthy, fit, and as close to my peak as I can get.
It takes more than you think; sometimes things will go well, and sometimes they won’t. As a young kid, we’re often fearless, and that’s a good trait, don’t get me wrong. However, it’s also important to understand that there will be many times when you’re on the ground, trying to give it everything you’ve got because that’s what it takes.
Every athlete's timing and progress is different. Some people accelerate quickly and then plateau, while others may take a long time to develop and suddenly hit their stride. Some may have slow progress, and you need to be open to all these possibilities.
As a young athlete myself, I never thought I would be where I am now, as my dad said, because I was one of the slower ones, and it took a while for me to reach this point.
I am honored and privileged to be in the position I’m in. This sport has given me so much and has shown me the world. It has provided a life I never imagined, along with power and influence I never thought I could reach.
I feel very blessed to have the support of the Filipinos, and I’m proud to be one of the few they can’t wait to see in the Olympics. That speaks volumes, more than words can explain. I feel truly honored and privileged, this is why I’m doing everything I can. As much as there are aspects of this journey that I don’t exactly like, even having this opportunity is a blessing.
Watch the full documentary on EJ Obiena's journey here:
Story by Sebastien Gilbert
Produced in Partnership with Legarde
