Keeping a blog is a lot harder than I thought it would be. It's been 13 days since my last post and I have felt guilty every time I think about Beyond the Blocks. Even though my following (people that check this out) is somewhat small - I still feel bad. I feel like I am supposed to write about something so compelling and profound that lives will be changed, when in reality this blog was restarted as a way for me to release and let people know how awesome my job is (yes, I'm bragging), I love it.
What should I talk about tonight?! I do want to write a book someday... should I give you a little bit of what I've written so far? It's kind of embarrassing because in a way I feel like making the relay team for the Olympics wasn't enough. It's almost like saying, "I went to the Olympics for a relay", is cheating, and all those people that made the team because they were the top two really and truly earned it. But making the team meant something completely different for me. I walked into Teri's office 3 months before trials and told her I wanted to quit. I was extremely unhappy mentally and felt like swimming wasn't what I should be doing anymore. I am a perfectionist of sorts/Type A personality - nothing I accomplished was ever really good enough for me, and I didn't think I was going to get any better. So I wanted to quit. I was afraid of failure, not making the team, what people would think, what I would think of myself - there were so many things. Quitting was the easiest way out of having to actually face those worries. But after an hour of discussing things, I decided to take a week off and come back with a carefree attitude. I was truly happy with the things I had accomplished in swimming and even if I didn't make the Olympic team I was going to walk away from my career with a smile on my face.
Anyways - here is something I wrote:
How can I describe what it felt like for me to make the Olympic team? How can I describe what it feels like to almost lose everything I had worked for my entire career less than 24 hours after attaining it? For most Olympians the grief and turmoil comes after a disappointing race at the Games. I saw that in some of my teammates. Mine came the day after celebrating the biggest achievement of my life.
Finish hard. That was the motto of Whitney Hite. He said, "You always have to finish hard. Your finish determines everything. Get that hand to the wall.", So I did. I finished as hard as I could in that 100 free finals at Olympic Trials. I felt it immediately.
My bones breaking.
It wasn't the first time. It might sound strange, but I heard my hand break.
What did I do?! How can I hide this form the 12,000 spectators watching this race right now? Although most eyes were in the middle of the pool, focused on lanes 4 and 5, some might have been looking my way. Act calm.
I tried to take my goggles off with both hands but I couldn't. My right hand wasn't working. How do I get out of the pool if I can't even take off my goggles? I was in lane 1, ironically the same lane that secured me a spot on the Olympic team the night before. I reached for the railing with my left hand and climbed out of the pool. I kept my eyes down and quickly left the pool deck, descending just a few feet below the crowd. I swiftly made my way back up the stairs on the other side of the stadium, I looked into the sea of swimmers and coaches above. Our team had staked out a few rows of seats about midway up the stadium. I somehow got Teri's attention and waved her to come down. We made our way down the steps to the area in between the two staircases. I faced her straight on, looking her in the eyes, and told her how I thought I had just broken my hand, again. I showed her the swollen version of my right hand. If you have broken anything before, you know how the swelling happens immediately. She looked at my hand then at me, "Are you sure it's broken?". I was a sure. Having it happen twice before made me positive that what I experienced and felt at the time was exactly the same.
I was being named to the Olympic Team that evening. I was set to walk around the pool deck with the other newest members of the Olympic Team, I decided that if this was the only "Olympic Moment" I was going to experience, then I should definitely fake the broken hand and do it. Teri helped me put on my warm-ups over my suit, and even brushed my hair for me. Act normal. I got into line behind Kim Vandenberg and Erik Vendt. I couldn't feel anything - I was an emotional mix of feeling shock, pain, confusion, worry. But, I had to pretend like this was the best day of my life. I remember talking to Kim, later she told me that I seemed a little out of it. Go figure.
I lined up with my fellow Olympic teammates, Erik and Kim stood in front of me. After a few minutes of waiting in line we began to move forward. One by one we marched onto the pool deck - walking proudly by everyone in the stands, waving and smiling as we passed by. I remember looking up and seeing my proud parents beaming down at me, clapping and cheering. Making the most noise they could, indicating to those around them that their daughter had actually made "the team".
As we reached the end of the pool deck we lined up. One by one the announcer said the names of each new member of the Olympic team. The anxiety began to build as I realized that it's normal to shake someone else's hand with the right. I had just broken my right hand, I was keeping the swelling covered with my sleeve and couldn't even brush my own hair. How was I supposed to shake someone's hand? Teri was on the pool deck as well, being named to the coaching staff, and luckily for me pulled the presenter aside telling her she had to shake my left hand, not my right. When it came my turn the woman reached for my left hand, shook it, and awarded me with a medal and stuffed animal. I happily excepted my medal, looking up at all the people who filled the arena, my parents, teammates and coaches, rivals, and friends I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of sadness knowing that this may be as close to the Olympics as I get. Why would they bring along a relay swimmer with a broken hand? The next two days were maybe the hardest of my life.
