Athlete & Author Alexandra Allred on Spy-Craft Roots, Breaking Barriers in Bobsledding, and Rewriting the Rules of Education
“I was born in Frankfurt, Germany. I’m an Army brat. My dad was military intelligence, so we lived in some pretty crazy places around the world. It was a wonderland. One of my favorite things that I can recall is when we lived in the Soviet Union in the 1970s. At that time, even the children of American families had a KGB agent that followed us. My days were filled with coming out, looking around, figuring out the guy who was staring at me the hardest, and then it was game on. My whole day was focused on how I could make that poor man run and chase me all over the city of Moscow.”
I had the pleasure of talking with Alexandra Allred, and to understand the woman who would eventually barrel down an icy track at 80 miles per hour while four months pregnant, you have to look at where she started. Allred didn’t grow up in the suburbs with a picket fence; she grew up in the shadow of the Iron Curtain. Born in Frankfurt, Germany, into a military intelligence family, her childhood was a high-stakes game of cat and mouse played out on the streets of the Soviet Union in the 1970s.
“I say all the time that I blame all the insanity in my life completely on my parents,” Allred says. Her father, Colonel Marc Powe, was a fluent speaker of seven languages and a man who, unbeknownst to his children at the time, was securing Soviet tank underbellies, and negotiating a deal with Chadian drug lords in the desert of North Africa to drag and conceal a downed Soviet helicopter. For a young Allred, this life of espionage wasn’t terrifying; it was a playground. She recalls noticing the KGB agents assigned to follow American families. “My whole day was focused on how I could make that poor man run and chase me all over the city of Moscow,” she laughs. “It was game on.”
This baptism by fire created a woman who seems allergic to the word “no.” By the time she was a young adult, the Berlin Wall had fallen, but Allred was looking for new barriers to smash. That opportunity arrived while she was sitting on her couch, nursing a baby, and watching the Olympics. She noticed there were no women bobsledders.
“I went to the library,” she says, recalling a pre-internet world. “I found out that women had been banned from the sport. Since I am my father’s daughter, that was intolerable to me.”
What followed was a campaign of what she describes as “obnoxious letters” mailed to the International Olympic Committee and the U.S. Federation. She trash-talked her way into a tryout, despite having zero experience. “I didn’t know anything about bobsledding,” she admits. But when Howard Lowry called her out, asking, “Are you coming, big mouth?” she didn’t blink.
The scene she describes at the training camp is straight out of a grimy underdog movie. There were no sleek uniforms or government funding. The team was a “ragtag group” that had to rent their own sleds. In a twist of fate, their initial coaching came from the actual Jamaican bobsled team — the original “Cool Runnings” crew. It was dangerous, bone-breaking work.
Allred didn’t just participate; she dominated. In 1994, she won the U.S. Nationals. But the most rock-and-roll statistic of her career isn’t the medal; it’s the physical state she was in when she won it. Allred was just under 16 weeks pregnant. A study by Case Western Reserve University later clocked the pregnant Allred sprinting at 20 mph and squatting over 300 pounds.
“As the medal was put around my neck, the director of the U.S. Bobsled Federation leaned into my ear and said, ‘You know this means nothing, right?’” Allred recalls. But she and her teammates persisted, pushing until women’s bobsled was finally added to the 2002 Olympic games.
However, beneath the accolades and the “adrenaline junkie” exterior lies a history forged in trauma. Allred reveals that her transition into martial arts — where she holds a fourth-degree black belt — wasn’t born out of a desire for trophies, but survival. At 18, she was sexually assaulted by an acquaintance.
“I decided to get into martial arts and competitive fighting,” she says. “Years later, people asked if I went to therapy. I said, ‘Yeah, it’s called Taekwondo, and I took everybody’s heads off.’”
She became known as “The Head Hunter,” fighting men when the dojos ran out of women willing to spar with her. Today, she uses that experience to teach self-defense to women, focusing on the psychological breakthrough of realizing one’s own power.
Currently, Allred has traded the ice track for the classroom at Tarleton State University, where she brings the same unorthodox intensity to kinesiology and special needs education. She is critical of a system that lets young adults with cognitive disabilities “age out” at 21, leaving them isolated. True to form, she didn’t just complain; she integrated them into her university classes.
She shares a story of a nonverbal student with cerebral palsy named Cory. While others talked over him, Allred saw “the wheels turning.” She invented a training method using X-ray paper to encourage him to extend his arm. “I knew he could reach a little bit more if I just yelled at him,” she says. When he finally popped the paper, the class erupted. “Nobody ever thought he could do that.”
Now an author of over 20 books, Allred is turning her gaze toward the fracture in American society. She longs for a return to civility, a lesson learned from a father who, despite being a spy, never uttered a racial slur or showed bias. “We need to respect history, good and bad,” she says.
Whether she is discussing the “nut fest” of managing her spy parents’ dementia or advocating for handwriting to save Gen Z’s cognitive skills, Allred remains a force of nature. She is a woman who once looked at the massive German and Swiss bobsled teams, turned to her teammate, and said, “There is nothing wrong with second place.”
But you get the distinct feeling that Alexandra Allred never really settled for it.
Yitzi: Alexandra, thank you so much for making the time to do this with us. It’s really an honor. Before we dive deep, our readers would love to learn about your personal origin story. Can you share the story of your childhood, how you grew up, and the seeds for all the amazing accomplishments and work that has come since then?
Alexandra: Yes, and I actually love talking about this because I say all the time that I blame all the insanity in my life completely on my parents. I was born in Frankfurt, Germany. I’m an Army brat. My dad was military intelligence, so we lived in some pretty crazy places around the world. It was a wonderland. One of my favorite things that I can recall is when we lived in the Soviet Union in the 1970s. At that time, even the children of American families had a KGB agent that followed us. My days were filled with coming out, looking around, figuring out the guy who was staring at me the hardest, and then it was game on. My whole day was focused on how I could make that poor man run and chase me all over the city of Moscow.
My dad spoke seven languages fluently, so we always had all kinds of people in and out of our lives. I think that gave my sister and me the spirit to always be outside the box; that was the norm for us. There were times that were difficult — we moved every year or two — but on the flip side, I got to embrace all the different cultures and people. Now, as an adult, I’m so appreciative of that experience.
Yitzi: You said you lived in the Soviet Union. How did that work as an American?
Alexandra: First of all, regarding the Russian people — I love them. They are a hard people, they’re harsh, but they love intensely. I always try to remind people that it’s a government’s policy, it’s not the people. I’ve always loved the Soviets, now the Russians. They are misunderstood. However, during the Soviet era, a lot of Americans, Brits, and Canadians struggled being there because of the harsh environment. We were always being followed, and our walls were bugged. It was nonstop. But as a kid, I loved it. They didn’t have skateboards in the Soviet Union then, and I had a skateboard in the 1970s. Even though I wasn’t very good on it, I put on shows like I was “it.” I had a lot of fun.
Yitzi: So your parents were working there? In what capacity?
Alexandra: I invite listeners to Google Colonel Marc Powe (P-O-W-E). His story is pretty remarkable. I didn’t understand until I was a young adult exactly who and what he was. My parents together got the underbelly of a Soviet tank that the Pentagon had been wanting for decades. My dad was the guy first on the scene when a Soviet copter went down; there was a race between the Chinese, the French, and the Russians to see who could get it first, and my dad secured it in the Chadian desert in Africa. Just remarkable things.
He was taken hostage by the Kuwaiti government when he was in Baghdad because he saw a Russian convoy delivering weapons despite an agreement saying they weren’t supplying the Middle East. That was the first time I figured out what my dad was doing, when we had to go to the Pentagon for a briefing to figure out where he was and how we were going to get him back. That was our life growing up. I remember as kids, my sister and I would always ask, “Why do people drive up and take pictures of our house?” My parents would always say, “Oh, it was just probably a tourist, and he was lost.” Later on, we found out that was the government coming by to make sure we were living within our means and my father wasn’t taking a cut from someone. It was wild, but pretty awesome.
Yitzi: So, he was in Russia as a spy for the U.S.?
Alexandra: Were he here, he would tell you no, he was an attaché at the American Embassy. But yes, he was always into stuff. After his passing — and I wish it wasn’t this way because he never told us anything — members of the State Department, DIA, and CIA told my sister and me stories. That was the first time we connected the dots on a lot of things, like when he would disappear on us. We had no idea he was doing the kind of stuff he was doing.
Yitzi: Unbelievable. You should make a book about that. That would become a movie.
Alexandra: Yeah, if you saw him, you’d see why he was so good at what he did. He was just this quiet, unassuming guy. My sister and I were in a shopping mall when we were teenagers once, and we were griping about how cheap our dad was. Across this very busy hallway in the mall, I made a snarky comment. Whatever it was, he looked at us and signaled regarding what I said. Both Michelle and I looked at our arms and went, “Oh my gosh! I think he’s reading our lips.” It turned out he was a very proficient lip reader. That’s how he always figured out what we were going to do.
Yitzi: So, tell us the story of how you joined the Olympics.
Alexandra: Well, the story really is that I was sitting on the couch with a not-quite-six-month-old baby, watching the Olympics. I saw bobsledding and thought, “This is so cool,” and I couldn’t wait to watch the women, but they never showed. When I tell this story to my college students, I always say, “So then I went to the library.” They ask, “The what?” because there was no internet. I went to the library and found out that women had been banned from the sport. Since I am my father’s daughter, that was intolerable to me.
I started writing obnoxious letters. There was no email, so I had to snail mail the FIBT, the USOC, and the IOC. I sent notes to everybody saying, “This is ridiculous. This is intolerable. I’m just as strong as anyone.” I trash-talked until I got a phone call from a man named Howard Lowry, who said, “We’re about to start up the first-ever U.S. women’s bobsled team. Are you coming, big mouth?” What do you say to that? I remember saying, “Yeah, send me the information. I’ll be there.” I hung up the phone and thought, I don’t know anything about bobsledding. But that’s how I started.
There was a ragtag group of us who showed up. The harder the bobsled federation made it for us to be there, the more determined we were to hang in. We weren’t given uniforms, a coach, or sleds; we had to rent them ourselves. One of our first team coaches was the original “Cool Runnings” Jamaican bobsled team. They jumped in, along with Greg Sun from the Trinidad bobsled team, and became our coaches.
It’s a very dangerous sport — lots of broken bones between us — but we hung in and fought. I co-authored the first U.S. bylaws for the team. We befriended Prince Albert of Monaco, and together with a group we aligned with from around the world, we pushed the IOC until they finally announced in 1998 that women would be in the 2002 Olympic games. Today, we’re working on getting a documentary made about it.
Yitzi: Such an incredible story. So, what happened after that? What’s the next chapter?
Alexandra: I did tournament fighting; I’m a fourth-degree black belt. Then Volvo called me in London. Apparently, they were in a meeting wanting someone to test drive and write a review on the gravity car. Somebody said, “It’s too bad there’s not a luger or bobsledder who also writes.” Someone googled it, my name popped up, and they tracked me down. They asked, “Would you be willing to go to California and test drive the gravity car?” I said yes. Why do I keep saying yes to these things? So I did that.
Sports Illustrated had me play women’s professional football for a year. In between, I had two more babies and started a writing career. I don’t like downtime; I try to stay busy.
Yitzi: Amazing. Tell us about your writing career. What do you focus on?
Alexandra: I started writing about sports, and I still do that today. I hope to write a few articles about the upcoming Olympics because we’ve got some amazing Olympians in the coming bobsled games. I segued into fiction every now and then, but I really love nonfiction.
Right now, I’m working on something regarding my parents. Where we were posted, the Soviets were well known for blasting radiation into the top floor of the American Embassy. Between Tunisia, Baghdad, and other places where my parents worked, it’s interesting that both parents went down with two different forms of dementia within a month of each other. Doctors keep saying this is unheard of.
It wasn’t funny at the time, but it is funny now: what do you do with two parents who are highly trained spies and they get dementia? Our world was a nut fest. We wound up on the local news because the story was so insane — in their demented state, they were still really good spies. It was hard, so humor became my weapon to keep from losing my mind and get through it.
Yitzi: When did you start teaching at Texas A&M?
Alexandra: It’s Tarleton State University, which is a sister university of the A&M system. About the time my parents were declining, I realized how important human function and cognitive health are. Having grown up loving sports, it’s normal for me to think that way. But I realized we’ve neglected our people in so many ways.
For over 10 years now, once a week, I have a special needs class for young adults. In the U.S. educational system, people with cognitive or developmental special needs go through the school system, but when they reach age 21, they age out. Since age four, they’ve had a bus pick them up and a whole social network helping them. Then suddenly they hit 21, and the system basically says, “Have a nice life.” Many families can’t afford something extra, so these young people go from having a highly functional social life to sitting on their couch.
I saw a group one day on campus and asked, “What’s the story with these guys?” They were all very different but walked like a tight mob. The woman with them said, “We’re bringing them in and trying to give them more of an opportunity.” I said, “I got a news flash for you. They’re just a mob of flesh. They’re not integrating.” So, I started bringing them into my various classes to be part of the class, teaching them physical abilities, perception, and balance. Over the years, people tell me, “That’s so cool what you do,” and I say, “No, it’s selfish because they taught me so much.” Even though I went back to school and got the proper education, at the end of the day, what I learned from these guys with cerebral palsy, Down syndrome, Asperger’s, and Fragile X gave me the greatest education ever. I hope to continue teaching tomorrow’s nurse practitioners, trainers, PTs, and OTs because we have to learn to listen to the people actually going through it.
Yitzi: You probably have some amazing stories from your varied career. Can you share one or two stories that stand out most in your mind?
Alexandra: I had a student who is nonverbal. His cerebral palsy has him curled in, with no extension. But if you look at his eyes, you can tell the wheels are turning; he is smart. However, everybody talks over and around him. I actually got a patent on an idea to work with people who have special needs because of him. It’s like X-ray paper with markers on it. I put it in front of him and kept telling him to hit it.
Over an eight-week period, I had him extending out. I have a picture that I love where I am yelling at him. There was a brand-new aide that day, and even though he is nonverbal, I knew he could reach a little bit more if I just yelled at him. So I’m yelling at this sweet boy, saying things like, “You can’t do it!” Finally, he popped it out. It wasn’t a full extension, but he popped it out, and it made the noise X-ray paper makes. The joy on his face was incredible. Everyone started clapping, and I had to walk away because I felt the tears coming. Nobody ever thought he could do that.
Later, I met his dad and told him, “Cory’s punching that thing.” He said, “He can’t extend.” I’m telling him about his own son, “Yes, he can.” He kept saying no, and I had to get the picture to show him. That stands out to me because we get comfortable with what we believe is possible, minimizing what is actually possible. In the background of that photo, you can see a physical therapy student laughing because she knew what I was doing, but the teacher’s aide looked aghast that I was screaming at this kid. But it worked.
Yitzi: Sometimes our mistakes can be our greatest teachers. Do you have a story about a funny mistake you made when you were first starting, and the lesson you learned?
Alexandra: This isn’t from my teaching career, but from when I was testing for my second black belt. I completely panicked. For those in the martial arts world, you know you have to wait a long time before you can test again. It was a huge room, people were staring at me, and I went completely blank on one of the most basic katas. I could feel everyone watching. I had to bow out. I couldn’t sleep that night; I was sick to my stomach. At 2:00 in the morning, I got out of bed and did the kata in the dark. I got back in bed, and my husband asked, “You feel better?” I said, “No, but at least I know I did it.” I tell my kids that story. You can be deeply humiliated, check the box, but you cannot stop. You cannot give up on yourself.
Yitzi: There’s a saying that “no” is not rejection, but redirection. Do you have a story where a “no” led to an unexpected success?
Alexandra: Oh, yeah. When I was trying out for the first-ever women’s bobsled team, we knew we weren’t wanted there. I was just under 16 weeks pregnant, and I won U.S. Nationals. I was named Athlete of the Year by the USOC for Bobsled. As the medal was put around my neck, the director of the U.S. Bobsled Federation leaned into my ear and said, “You know this means nothing, right?” It was such a moment.
It took years of crashing and breaking bones to get where we wanted to go. We had no formal coach; it was tough going. I’m so proud of the nine of us because none of us backed out. We made sure women were going to get into the Olympic games. There were so many “nos.” When we got invited to Germany, my partner Liz and I were the strongest team the U.S. had. We walked into the lobby, saw the Latvians and Brits, who were small, and I told Liz, “We got this.” Then the elevator doors opened, and Germany’s number two team walked in. In my mind, they were huge. When they got off, I looked at Liz and said, “There is nothing wrong with second place.”
A couple of days later, the Swiss teams arrived. They were massive; the elevator practically chugged when they got on. They were decked out in uniforms provided by their countries, while we had “USA” written on our sleds in duct tape. They looked at us like we were pathetic. When they got off, I told Liz, “There is nothing wrong with third place.” We actually came in fifth. I laugh about it, but we were outsized and out-trained. However, we never gave up because it wasn’t about us. It was about who was coming up behind us. We knew our fight was to get women into the Olympics. Those are the best fights — when you are fighting for the people behind you.
Yitzi: What’s the story behind why you decided to get a black belt?
Alexandra: I don’t talk about this a lot. I grew up in a bubble living on military bases or in embassies, so I felt untouchable. Even knowing a KGB guy was following me, I had no fear; it was a game. When I was 18, I went out with someone I thought was a friend, and I was raped. It was terrible. I was the son my dad never had — his little sidekick — so I never told him for the longest time because I knew it would crush him.
I decided to get into martial arts and competitive fighting. Years later, people asked if I went to therapy. I said, “Yeah, it’s called Taekwondo, and I took everybody’s heads off.” It worked for me because I didn’t like to talk about it. They called me “The Head Hunter.” The dojo eventually stopped letting me fight women, so I only fought men. It was amazing therapy. Today, I don’t do martial arts anymore, but I give free self-defense classes to women. My favorite thing is teaching women how to break a board with their hand. Once they do that, they realize, “If I can break a board, what can I do to a nose?” It’s my way of giving back.
Yitzi: Was that person brought to justice?
Alexandra: Yes and no. For me, no. I learned years later that he had gotten into a lot of trouble because predators are going to be predators. He actually picked someone who fought back the proper way, and I’m so proud of her. For me, teaching self-defense is owning it. If I had reported it, maybe she wouldn’t have been necessary. The best thing I can do is teach as many women as I can to defend themselves. I always tell them: you have to talk to somebody.
Yitzi: Can you share five things that you’ve learned over the years that would have been nice to know when you first started teaching?
Alexandra: That is a fantastic question. Most of the things I’ve learned, I’m glad nobody told me because it’s better to learn from your students.
- Put yourself in their shoes. I had a kid today who was going to fail. I called him, talked through it, and he wound up passing with high marks. We have no idea what they are going through, and often they don’t talk. If you explore, you learn a lot.
- Do not judge. We give Gen Z such a hard time, but they are going through stuff I have no idea about. I never had the internet as a kid. The bullying they face is constant; their souls are never at peace because of the phones in their hands.
- Patience. I’m a hyper person, so I have to learn to slow my roll, back it up, and double-check things. My students have taught me patience and greater empathy.
- Research. You can’t take anything for granted. My dad told me that in the Pentagon, the first three times you hear something, it’s probably bad information, so keep checking. You have to research thoroughly before acting.
- Appreciate diversity. Teaching has shown me how broad the learning spectrum is and how different people are in how they walk, talk, and dress. I admire people so much more now. I love that we’re all so wildly different.
Yitzi: Can you share some of the self-care routines that you do to help your body, mind, and heart to thrive?
Alexandra: I’ve always been healthy because of sports, and I’m a clean eater. In my kinesiology classes, if a student walks in with a Rockstar, Red Bull, or Monster, the entire class suffers because I oppose chemicals in our systems. I do everything I can to avoid chemicals and exercise is very important to me.
Also, when my parents went into memory care, I was there 362 days a year for four years. I saw how many people were dumped by their families. The people roaming the hallways became my adopted parents and grandparents. They taught me about connection. I have become a letter writer. We lose the skill set of cursive when we type, so I handwrite letters — sometimes long ones, sometimes just “I love you” — and address the envelopes by hand. Connecting to people, handwriting, and reading have become important to my health. We don’t read anymore, or if we do, it’s blips on phones. We are losing the ability to pay attention to detail. I write by hand at least a page every day because it’s good for my body and soul.
Yitzi: If you could spread an idea or inspire a movement that would bring the most amount of good to the most amount of people, what would that be?
Alexandra: I feel like I’m on the Miss America stage saying “World peace,” but everyone is so angry right now. I had a moment where I could have been angry with my parents because I didn’t know there was a will or that I had power of attorney. People stole $30,000 from my dad’s account. But I remember telling a joke to a woman in memory care, and she laughed. I realized we need humor. We need to share sweet, kind, silly humor — not the mean stuff. I worry our nation is being taught to judge on appearance alone. I try to lead and teach with humor. I’m a giant goofball, and that works.
Yitzi: What do you think we could do to put the “United” back into the United States?
Alexandra: We need to have trust in our institutions again. We need to respect history, good and bad, because that’s how we learn. The name-calling and bullying just because someone disagrees with us has to stop. Growing up with a military attaché father, I never knew if he had adverse feelings toward any group because he never let it show. You did not use racial slurs or name-call in our house. We need to shut that down on both sides of the aisle, respect each other, and rebuild.
Yitzi: As an educator, are there a few things you would hope could be tweaked to improve educational outcomes in our country?
Alexandra: I would love to see handwritten tests come back. It is stunning how many young adults do not know how to read cursive. If we brought back handwritten tests, it would curb cheating and AI use, and increase cognitive and critical thinking skills. Also, reading. Just having a quiet period in class to read — I don’t care what it is. My daughter didn’t like reading until I told her to get out her “Junie B. Jones” books at age 15. She started laughing out loud and rediscovered her love for it. It’s an easy fix.
Yitzi: Is there a person in the U.S. or the world with whom you would like to have a power lunch or collaborate?
Alexandra: I would love to sit down with a group: Barack Obama, Donald Trump, Mike Johnson, and Liz Cheney. Maybe five from both sides. I would ask them all the same questions. I feel the American people are out of touch with our current leaders. I would love to tell them, “This is what I see, hear, and what my students tell me.” I want to ask, “Why can’t we get you all in the same room to have conversations, because you are hurting our children and our futures?” That would be epic.
Yitzi: Alexandra, this is such an honor. How can our readers follow your work?
Alexandra: In the summer of 2026, my book Mission Possible is coming out. It’s a funny story about dementia, but the second half is about what you can do for loved ones to get things in order. I’m also doing a GoFundMe called “Icebreakers” to support the documentary telling the story of the first-ever U.S. women’s bobsled team.
Yitzi: Alexandra, thank you so much for your time, stories, and wisdom. I wish you continued success.
Alexandra: You too. Those were great questions; you stumped me quite a few times!
Yitzi: It was a pleasure.
Athlete & Author Alexandra Allred on Spy-Craft Roots, Breaking Barriers in Bobsledding, and… was originally published in Authority Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.