ATLANTA -- Nancy Kerrigan is spending the afternoon trying to organize her son's closet, getting rid of old clothes, trying to find space for new ones and cleaning up the toys that cover the floor.

"That's what my life is now," she said with a laugh. "Coming and going and organizing."

Ten years after the whack heard 'round the world, Kerrigan bears little resemblance to the pitiable young woman who sat on the ground, clutching her knee and sobbing, "Why me?" She's happily married with a 7-year-old son, and has a wide range of interests that have broadened her world far beyond skating. She acts. She sings. She paints.

On Friday night she was to be inducted into U.S. Figure Skating's Hall of Fame, an honor that has everything to do with her own accomplishments and nothing to do with that now-infamous attack.

"It's so great after so long that somebody remembers and is recognizing me for (skating)," she said in a telephone interview with The Associated Press. "At the time, it was very overshadowed."

Kerrigan was the U.S. champion in 1993, and she's one of only five U.S. women to win two Olympic medals. She won the bronze at the 1992 Olympics, and a silver two years later. She also won silver and bronze medals at the world championships.

But for all of her accomplishments, most people will always associate her with Tonya Harding and the attack that almost kept her out of the 1994 Olympics.

Hoping to clear Harding's way to gold and glory, Harding's live-in ex-husband, Jeff Gillooly, hired a hitman to attack Kerrigan at the 1994 national championships.

The incident made headlines around the world. Kerrigan had to withdraw from nationals, and the injury jeopardized her Olympic hopes.

Over the next six weeks, Kerrigan worked harder than she ever had before. She got treatment for her knee. She did physical therapy. And when she was able to skate again, she trained with a vengeance.

"You're so much stronger than you ever imagined was possible," Kerrigan said. "Hopefully I'll never be so strong again."

Though Harding has always denied knowledge of the attack, most suspect she knew something. Kerrigan always took the high road, never saying anything about the attack or criticizing Harding.

"There's always times you want to say something," Kerrigan said Friday. "But I have to look back at my life and at myself and be proud. ... After that happened, I just wanted to move on."

But the rest of the world wouldn't let her. That Harding and Kerrigan were both on the Olympic team created a media frenzy.

Hundreds of reporters from around the world turned out just to watch their practice, looking for the slightest hint of drama. The short program and the free skate drew the fourth- and sixth-highest ratings of any TV shows up to that point.

Not just for 1994. Ever.

"Having been a victim of an attack is not something I really think I have any credit for. It's not like I accomplished anything" by being attacked, Kerrigan said. "To be able to go to the Olympics after being attacked and then skate as well as I did on top of it -- I've never worked so hard before or since -- it's really nice to be recognized for the skating part of it and leave the rest of it behind."

And Kerrigan certainly has left it behind. She turned professional after the Olympics, and had a lucrative career with the ice shows. She married Jerry Solomon, her agent, in 1995, and they have a son, Matthew, who is now in first grade.

She's done television specials, had parts in movies and even recorded a couple of songs. The singing part of her career happened by accident, with a songwriter calling Solomon after the 1994 Olympics and saying he had some music for Kerrigan.

"Jerry said, 'Can you sing?' I said, 'I sound pretty good in the car to myself but I don't know how anyone can hear me,"' Kerrigan said. "Who doesn't sound good in the car?"

Turns out she could sing, though. She's recorded a couple of songs -- including one she performed to at ice shows last year -- and is going to sing "Simply the Best" on an upcoming Tina Turner tribute album.

"It's scary, it's Tina Turner!" Kerrigan said with a laugh. "She's awesome."

But the part of her life that gives Kerrigan the most joy is motherhood.

Reading bedtime stories to a child may sound like a simple pleasure, but Kerrigan delights in it. Her mother is blind and her father worked long hours to pay for her skating, so Kerrigan never had anyone to read to her.

"To me, it seems like a luxury," she said. "You have someone at night and every day to be reading to you. He loves it and it's so neat. It's like a whole new thing I wasn't able to experience as a kid."

Despite his parents' athletic backgrounds, Kerrigan said Matthew doesn't really have an interest in sports yet.

"He's extremely coordinated, but he just doesn't care about it," Kerrigan said. "He's very social. If he's running a race and he's beating someone, he slows down because he doesn't want them to feel bad."

Kerrigan laughs at that, remembering the burning desire that once propelled her to be one of the best skaters in the world. But that -- and everything that went with it -- is deep in the past now.

"It'd be nice for somebody that sees my face and remembers the incident to remember I was an Olympian and I represented my country and I tried my hardest and I did the best I could," she said. "Being attacked is not what I want to be remembered for. It's what I did after that mattered."