Nora Gjakova: “I miss training with a purpose”

When Nora Gjakova finally made her retirement official on 31 December 2025, it felt less like a surprise and more like a quiet confirmation. The Olympic champion, European champion, eight-time IJF World Tour gold medallist and World Championships bronze medallist had already stepped away from competition months earlier. Her final appearance came at the 2025 Paris Grand Slam. The announcement simply closed a chapter that had already ended emotionally.

Now fully transitioned into coaching, Gjakova speaks openly about exhaustion, relief, grief and what comes next.

Taking time to be sure

Her last competition was Paris. Still, she waited until the very last day of the year to announce her decision.

“After the Paris Grand Slam, I realised that I didn’t want to compete anymore. I couldn’t wait to go back home and make it official, but my coach told me that I should give myself some time and reflect about this decision. So, I waited.”

That pause mattered. Because what she was leaving behind was not just competition, but an identity shaped over years.

When love turns into questioning

The feeling did not arrive overnight. It built slowly, starting long before Paris.

“I had a rough year preparing for the Olympics because I had a big injury five months before. To get back in shape, I had to train up to six hours every day and this drained me, both mentally and physically but more mentally.”

She pushed through. Like champions do.

“It didn’t really impact me so much in the lead up to the Olympics. But after the Olympics, when I started training again, that’s when I really felt it.”

And that was new.

“I felt I no longer love what I’m doing. I kept questioning myself: ‘Why am I doing this again?’ I never had such thoughts before but suddenly I was overthinking everything.”

Even success did not change it.

“After winning a medal at the Paris Grand Slam, I felt I really didn’t need to prove myself anymore. I just wanted to stop. I didn’t have any injuries. I was in good physical condition but I just didn’t have the will to continue.”

Athlete hours versus coach hours

As an athlete, her days were relentless. Two or three sessions daily. As a coach, not much has changed on paper.

“Of course, coaching takes up a lot of time. I think the difference is that whatever free time I have, I am more relaxed and feel less pressured than I did when I was an athlete.”

The pressure is different now. Lighter.

“I can actually be more productive during such times and do other things. That wasn’t the case when I was competing.”

Life after competition

Retirement has not radically reshaped her daily life. Kosovo is still home. Routine still exists.

“I live in a small city, so it’s pretty hard to have big changes. Besides coaching, which is two or three times a day, I do my own training in the gym or go running.”

She is still active. Just not chasing weight cuts and draws.

“I also spend some time studying and of course spending time with friends and family.”

Still too close to randori

Some things are harder to let go than others. “No, I rarely do it,” she says when asked about randori. “It makes me emotional. It’s sort of like I’m still in a grieving period.”

What she misses most is not the podium.

“I do miss judo training but more than that, I miss training with a purpose.”

And then a line that only judoka really understand.

“This might sound strange but I even miss waking up early and making weight for competition.”

Keeping the Kosovo system alive

As a coach, she has not tried to reinvent anything.

“I follow my coach’s system. Even if I could choose another training system, I would still choose ours.”

That system, built by head coach Driton Kuka, defined Kosovo judo.

“I believe in our system and I love the way how we are taught judo. The Kosovo judo system is very centralized and tough. There is a lot of focus on technical development and kumi-kata.”

Structure matters.

“Everything is planned by the head coach Driton Kuka. You have to be well-prepared physically, and be consistent and disciplined to excel under this system.”

From strict coach to strict coach

Driton Kuka’s reputation is well known. Gjakova does not shy away from following that path.

“I’m strict too when it comes to the training programme. I expect the athletes to be disciplined and come to training focused and ready to do the job.”

But there is room for empathy.

“But I think perhaps I’m a bit more understanding.”

Watching Kosovo judo grow

Gjakova lived the transformation of Kosovo judo from the inside.

“I used to train in a small dojo with no heating and sometimes no electricity. We had no gym so we kept our equipment in our dressing room.”

It was basic. Raw.

“We didn’t have a lot of training partners. Just two or three players doing randori together.”

Now, it is something else entirely.

“Now it has changed from a local sport to a well-organized and internationally successful system. We have better facilities, better funding and more opportunities for education not just competition.”

She pauses.

“So yeah, it has changed a lot.”

Looking ahead to 2026

For the first time in her life, judo is no longer the only reference point.

“My personal goal is to be more present, to experience new places and cultures, and to discover my identity outside of judo.”

Professionally, she is still building.

“I’m working towards finishing my master’s degree in Sports Science, Health and Physical Activity.”

And she is open.

“I’m open to new opportunities and sharing my knowledge of judo outside of Kosovo. This could be in the form of doing clinics and seminars or even working as a coach in a new country.”

Nora Gjakova the competitor is done.
Nora Gjakova the judoka is not.

She may miss training with a purpose. But she is slowly finding a new one.

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