Below was my 2008 resolution. It was simple and concise, and may surprise you:
Writing about resolutions is boring, and tackling the topic two days before the new year may be too late. But it’s never a bad idea to strive to improve one’s self no matter the time or date.
Olympians
make resolutions like everybody else. They promise themselves to sleep more,
drink less alcohol (if they’re of age), and to always, always hydrate.
Resolutions are often self-serving. The act of pursuing the Olympic dream, for
some athletes, is arguably a selfish endeavor. Most great champions though, at
their core, are truly kind and selfless. (I wish I could say I was one of them,
but I can’t.)
At
the 2004 Athens Olympics, Michael Phelps famously gave up his relay spot so his
teammate could swim and win. Michael’s buddy had been sick days before and he
didn’t want him to go home without any gold medallions.
At
the 1964 Innsbruck Olympics, an Italian bobsledder removed a bolt from his rear
axle so the British bobsledders could use it. The Brits ended up winning. The
Italians got the bronze. Eugenio Monti, that incredibly gracious Italian,
received the first Pierre De Coubertin Medal for sportsmanship, named after the
founder of the modern Olympic Games. That award is now considered the highest
honor any athlete can achieve.
Most
Olympians do the right thing. They’re compassionate and giving. Olympians are
always quick to point out their weaknesses and maladies. Gail Deavers suffers from Graves Disease, and Gary
Hall Jr. has diabetes. You name the health issue and I assure you there’s an
Olympian with a personal testimony. It’s important for the public to know we’re
also susceptible to life’s stresses and
strains, that we suffer human frailty.
I
didn’t suffer disease. What I did experience was probably more common. Most of
my life, training for the Olympics, I held on to and suffered from my anger and
resentment:
My family life was dysfunctional. My parents had problems, like most parents do, but theirs were magnified by overwhelming pressures that were mostly external. As a child I didn’t understand and hated that they couldn’t overcome their issues. Interestingly it didn’t infringe on my swimming. My parents were always involved.
My mother
actually coached me when I kid. She taught me a philosophy and a work ethic
that I used all the way to the end. Unfortunately, by the time I got to the
Olympics, I resented my parents for all their perceived problems. Sadly, I
didn’t separate them from the personal sacrifices they made, and regrettably, I
kept them from coming to the Olympic Games. It was a terrible mistake, a
selfishly immature choice for which I still feel shame.
So
when you’re watching athletes at the Beijing Olympics this summer, remember that
they’re like everybody else at the end of the day. It doesn’t hurt anyone to
make a resolution to sleep more, drink less and to always hydrate. And I know
it’s right, and good for your health, to let go of hate.
My
resolution this year, as it has been in so many past, is to call my mother more
and to say I love you and I’m sorry and forgive me all over again. (I wish I
could tell my father, but he is now dead.) I have a feeling that’s not exactly
a rare resolution, especially in a country where 75% of the families (according
to the American Mental Health Association) experience dysfunction.
Disease
and genetic deficiencies and emotional hurdles are not insurmountable. More
often than not, in the 21st century, you can overcome them and be
healed wholly, and who knows; if you’re young enough and hungry enough, maybe
you could even go on to achieve Olympic glory.
For 2009, my resolution remains the same. However, I'd like to add that I feel I've learned from my past mistakes. I know people have problems, and I know I have many, many more. I know patience and forgiveness should come as soon as possible, if not immediately. I also know forgiving one's self is of supreme importance.
When I was about eight, my dad told me that if I didn't really love myself (and that I'd be surprised about how many folks feel that way), that I'd never be able to truly forgive myself...in the right way.
I asked him, "How in the right way?"
"Little Melvin," he said (as a child I was Little Melvin and he was Big), "Little Melvin, you've got to love yourself enough to know that you will be loved back. That way, no matter what you've done, people will have enough faith in you to know you're worthy of their forgiveness."



