Life is just one big long war, really. It's up to me to fight and win as many battles as I can, whether they be Olympic Games, dominating my class at SRA, or even a training run up Mount Wellington. Once I stop fighting, what's the point?
It happened once, on a Tuesday morning in December of 2005. It had been two nights since I'd failed to make the New Zealand Commonwealth Games team at Trials, and I was pretty bummed about it. I stood up halfway through a lap of a warm-down swim during my workout and looked at my coach, Richard. "I don't think I want to swim anymore." I said. I took off my cap and goggles, got out of the pool and walked out of the complex. I didn't stop to ask Richard what he thought, I just left. 200 metres down the road, I texted my friend Curtis. "I think I just quit swimming."
Obviously, I went back the following week for a pow wow with Richard, but it didn't change much. I was lying down sadly in my little battlefield, and nothing he said made me want to get up and keep fighting. I said goodbye to him, thinking I was making the best decision of my life.
Of course, if it really had been the best decision of my life, I wouldn't be up writing about it and desperately trying to hold back the tears. I miss swimming terribly, and I miss Richard. I'm lucky I've found another battle in cycling, or I really don't know what I'd do.
As it would happen, I don't think I've ever been so excited for an Olympic Games as I am about the next ones in 2012, in London, England. This is probably a combination of a lot of things, including my thorough enjoyment of watching as much as I could of the recent Beijing 2008 Games, but at the same time, really missing the environment that one can only experience in one place on earth: the Olympic Village. It's exciting to watch someone win a gold medal on TV, and watch them during their victory ceremony, but it's nothing compared to when that person walks back in the dining hall - in some cases wearing the medal and holding the bouquet of flowers, and in others with only the medal strap hanging from their tracksuit pocket, and receives a round of applause. It's really something else.
It helped that Jimmy Page performed at the closing ceremony in Beijing. I am a huge fan of Jimmy. On my "top five" list of guitarists, he rates as number two, behind Tom Morello, of course. I've been really touched three times by "Olympic moments" - first, when Hicham El Guerrouj FINALLY won the mens' 1500m race in Athens, when Kenenisa Bekele won the 5,000m in Beijing (funnily enough, El G won it in Athens, which was amazing but at the same time crushing for Bekele) and when Jimmy took the stage with Leona Lewis at the closing of Beijing.
It happened once, on a Tuesday morning in December of 2005. It had been two nights since I'd failed to make the New Zealand Commonwealth Games team at Trials, and I was pretty bummed about it. I stood up halfway through a lap of a warm-down swim during my workout and looked at my coach, Richard. "I don't think I want to swim anymore." I said. I took off my cap and goggles, got out of the pool and walked out of the complex. I didn't stop to ask Richard what he thought, I just left. 200 metres down the road, I texted my friend Curtis. "I think I just quit swimming."
Obviously, I went back the following week for a pow wow with Richard, but it didn't change much. I was lying down sadly in my little battlefield, and nothing he said made me want to get up and keep fighting. I said goodbye to him, thinking I was making the best decision of my life.
Of course, if it really had been the best decision of my life, I wouldn't be up writing about it and desperately trying to hold back the tears. I miss swimming terribly, and I miss Richard. I'm lucky I've found another battle in cycling, or I really don't know what I'd do.
As it would happen, I don't think I've ever been so excited for an Olympic Games as I am about the next ones in 2012, in London, England. This is probably a combination of a lot of things, including my thorough enjoyment of watching as much as I could of the recent Beijing 2008 Games, but at the same time, really missing the environment that one can only experience in one place on earth: the Olympic Village. It's exciting to watch someone win a gold medal on TV, and watch them during their victory ceremony, but it's nothing compared to when that person walks back in the dining hall - in some cases wearing the medal and holding the bouquet of flowers, and in others with only the medal strap hanging from their tracksuit pocket, and receives a round of applause. It's really something else.
It helped that Jimmy Page performed at the closing ceremony in Beijing. I am a huge fan of Jimmy. On my "top five" list of guitarists, he rates as number two, behind Tom Morello, of course. I've been really touched three times by "Olympic moments" - first, when Hicham El Guerrouj FINALLY won the mens' 1500m race in Athens, when Kenenisa Bekele won the 5,000m in Beijing (funnily enough, El G won it in Athens, which was amazing but at the same time crushing for Bekele) and when Jimmy took the stage with Leona Lewis at the closing of Beijing.
El G: quite literally myself in double-speed.
It's now just a matter of sorting out that track bike.
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