I'm with Chris LaBianco, aka LaBi, this weekend. We're going to see USA National Team Alum, Bob Placak, at his home in Tiburon.
Being with LaBi, the USA Swimming Foundation Chief, is always an inspiring time. We enjoy seeing swimmers whenever we are.
On the subject of seeing swimmers, especially past champions, from the ON THE ROAD vault I found a lost treasure. Back at the 2008 Olympics, LaBi and I had the pleasure of seeing Misty Hyman over dinner.
Wait! Before you look, remember that the Foundation is still officially making the towel offer. For a $100 donation on Facebook, on the "Support the USA Swimming Foundation" cause page, you will receive one of our beautifully big, 100% cotton towels.
Ok. I'm done. Enjoy the video with 2000 Olympic gold medalist, Misty Hyman:
Do you love yourself? Do you treat YOU right? I've been asking myself this question lately, and I don't think I can say I have, 100%. I haven't been working out enough and my diet's completely slipping.
I fear weight gain. To me it's life and death. It's not a baseless fear. My dad died of a massive stroke at 56.
This past year I've gotten reacquainted with an old swimming peer. We're roughly the same age, but he's in incredible shape, better shape than I am. His name's Rich Roll, and he's now an ultra-endurance athlete, as well as a strict vegan. Every so often he sends me interesting videos that shed new light on his diet. I got this one yesterday, and I thought it was worth blogging about:
Rip Esselelstyn (from the video above) inspired Rich, and Rich has inspired me. I'm not going as hardcore into their diet, but I have limited my meat intake. I eat deep leafy greens on a daily basis, and I don't drink juices from concentrate. I peel and eat my fruit. It's the best way to get vitamin C.
For me, health used to be motivated by vanity. I suppose it still is to some degree. As I've gotten older though, I'm more concerned about living a long life, seeing my daughter graduate from college, get married, and hopefully give me several grand-babies.
My blog before the last was depressing. I wrote about being terribly down. It was regarding a book I had written, and despite being a very personal project, it was business related. I had just gotten rejected by a publisher, one of my favorites, Little Brown. The submission took time, and it looked promising for many, many weeks. I was so wrapped up in it, however, the stress wrung me out and ate at me, subconsciously. I think my health suffered because of it. Baring your soul to strangers creates poisonous insecurities. I know I've been consuming more sugar, dairy and animal fat to insulate and protect myself against those awful feelings.
Climbing out of disappointment and depression never seems easy. Then again, it's funny how reminders pop up when you really need them. The video (above) Rich sent me jumped out like a big neon sign. It said, Stop feeling sorry for yourself! Workout and eat right!
I'm thankful for friends who send helpful information. Rich's email was a nudge toward a more healthy diet, but, for me, it was also a wake up call about what's most important. I have got to stay healthy, and I must stay vibrant and alert. Life is happening right now, and I want to experience fully in the future.
Bayley, my daughter, and Tiffy, my wife, are more important to me than any business endeavor, especially one that saps my life. Being with them always makes me smile. And when I'm not with them, experiences aren't experienced fully. Moments are only felt half way. It's as if an interesting photo or person or cityscape aren't really in front of me unless they're seeing it with me.
We have fun when we're together. I'd vlog focusing on them more, but they don't always like being captured on camera. I try to catch them whenever possible though. Seeing even a glimpse brings real life to an image.
Thanks to Rich Roll, as always, for his insight. If you're interested in learning more about him:
The USA Swimming Foundation Towel campaign is still going. For a $100 dollar donation you can get a big, beautiful, 100% cotton towel with the Foundation logo on it. For more details, go here.
My friend and fellow Olympic gold medalist, Megan Jendrick, was interviewed at length on FITNESSRXMAG.COM. She's a big diet & health advocate and also a columnist at the online magazine. Check her out here.
There's nothing more exciting than a new world-class swimmer bursting onto the scene. When it happens, I always wonder, Are they affable, smart and media savvy? In Thoman's case, he's all of those things.
I met Thoman for the first time in Arizona, with Chris LaBianco (The USA Swimming Foundation's Chief). We were on a corporate weekend, a sort of informal "get to know ya" between sponsors, USA Swimming staff, and stars from the National Team. Thoman was shaven then, very proper and neat, though his personality peaked through over dinners and evenings out socializing.
Thoman's smart. There's no doubt about it. And his sense of humor's causally kind, usually self-deprecating. But he's no pushover. Thoman's just so comfortable with himself, all I can think around him is, Wow, he's got great leadership qualities!
All that said, Thoman's got his work cut out for him, competitively speaking. I was just trading emails with a high-profile swimming blogger (and USMS member), SWIMMER BILL, and he broke it down for me. I'm paraphrasing, but here's the gist:
SWIMMER BILL: Thoman's up against Ryan Lochte, Aaron Peirsol, Matt Grevers, Randall Bal and Peter Marshall. And that doesn't include Michael Phelps, who Thoman, interestingly, didn't mention in his interview. Thoman's training with Bob Bowman now. I wonder if Thoman knows something we don't.
I personally don't think Thoman knows if Phelps is adding the 100m back to his schedule. (I bet Bowman and Phelps keep that info close to the vest.) I think Thoman's focused on what he has to do, and riding the excitement and positivity that comes when you've truly become world-class. Thoman will have some income to help cover his training expenses in the form of USA Swimming financial support. He should also be locking up an apparel deal (if he hasn't already) sometime this summer.
These are heady times for a swimmers who are entering the pro ranks. They're in a honeymoon period after our '08 Olympic success. While the market is dangerously weak, USA Swimming is remaining stalwart. I'm not bragging or saying we're kicking-butt, but we're not hurting either. Swimming's on solid footing, which bodes well for when the market recovers. I think our sport is going to shine like it never has before over the next 3 years because we're financially healthy now. And if your name's Nick Thoman, you're perched on the precipice of an overwhelmingly wonderful career!
****Many thanks to Thoman for stepping up and supporting the USA Swimming Foundation. As an Ambassador on behalf of water-safety, he has shown his great character.****
A busy week. Too much happened. So many things shouldn't hit you inside of five days.
One project is agreed on, one that's taken months to sort out. Another one, with nearly three years of work invested, is dead. I got the call about that death on Friday.
For most of my life, I've experienced an extreme level of optimism, bordering on ecstasy, coupled with a feeling of I must be utterly crazy. I don't know about most people, but I have a sneaking suspicion that they don't feel my stark duality. The ones that do, the ones I sense it in, they hide it better than I have been able to.
In the past, when I was young, Dad tempered my extreme feelings. Dad was solid, someone who'd seen and experienced it all. He was very earthy.
Dad grew up poor, in the Appalachian Mountains, the son of an alcoholic who went to prison. Shame surrounded his family, shame in the form of a secret that permeated everything. When I was kid I didn't know the details, but felt them in detailed ways. My dad served other people. He was exceedingly kind. It always seemed like he was trying to pay a debt that would never get paid.
Any ounce of want or desire in Dad, he gave it all to me. He couldn't have it, even if he tried. Shame held him back... It's very hard to explain...
In the mountains, I know Dad was born in a house with a dirt floor. I know he spent nights sleeping in ditches. I know his father frightened him when he got drunk. Dad said, "My daddy had no pride. He wanted to die. Daddy scared me with his gun when he got drunk."
Later on I learned, as an adult, that Dad feared his father would kill himself, and the rest of the family. Dad was so little when this happened, just a kid. I wonder about the year, day and exact time when it broke and shattered any potential he may have held inside...
I've written about this so much, but can't seem to write about it enough. I'm missing something. I know I am, but laying it down in detail hasn't been enough.
Dad died December 20, 1996. I think about him every day, but the memories have gotten fleeting and fuzzy. In the last 18 months, with all the Olympic work, the 24/7 go-go rush, I haven't had much time to reflect. This past week it occurred to me that Dad would've been overwhelmed with joy. He was a tried-and-true swimmer-parent, one who would've known all of our Olympic stars' times, down to the last one-hundredth of a second.
The one memory that has remained solid in my mind is an image of Dad's smiling mouth. It would stretch so wide across his chubby face, his lips would turn white in splotches and dots. Dad loved seeing swimmers swim fast, no matter who they were or what stroke they did. Dad was a "Church of Swimming" dad. He drove carpool to practice on extra days, and always bought donuts for us when practice was done. When we ran crazy in the halls of Howard Johnson motels, Dad didn't call us out. When we pulled pranks with toilet-paper and shaving cream, he'd just grin and chuckle about it...
This past week was hard, though I'm sure a lot of people are suffering their own version of hardships in this economy. I'm making it fine, maybe by most standards well, but it seems like, to get anything done, I have to pull teeth. Family life suffers. Time with my wife and daughter gets lost. Guilt has been my company. Finding out that long-term projects have died, that all that time was squandered, makes me want to scream. I'm too tired. I feel defeated.... It's funny how Dad comes back at times like these.
On Facebook, I got an email from an old and very close friend. She had found photos of Dad she wanted to pass on. I got the email days ago, the photos, but I didn't want to dwell on them. As the week got worse, and more bad news trickled in, I finally downloaded the pictures of Dad.
My wife saw his smiling face, and said, "He'd be very proud of you."
I knew what she meant: No matter what you're doing for your career, your time invested in long-term projects, Dad would be proud of your work with the USA Swimming Foundation.
My wife was right. It made me cry. My dad would've really beamed about that. Funny thing is, working for the Foundation isn't work. It's an honor. It's pure joy... That thought made me think about Dad's way in life: Maybe always serving other people wasn't about paying a debt. Maybe he experienced so much fear when he was young, he only wanted to feel joy.
Dad, for the last 10 years of his life, worked with kids, coaching basketball and baseball for very little pay.Dad said it was his "calling," that he had to helps kids any way he could. Maybe Dad was smarter and a lot less damaged than I thought.
Thanks, Kelly, for these pictures. Thanks for helping me remember.
Swimming has changed my life in so many positive ways. However, it didn't start out so great.
My mom wanted me to be water-safe, so she took me to swimming lessons at the local YMCA. I was only three, and if I think hard enough, I can just glimpse faint foggy images from that first day. If I dwell on it, details bubble up, and a string of events takes shape...
Walking on frozen brown grass. It crunches underfoot. The trees are naked. It's wintertime in Gastonia, North Carolina. I don't come up to mom's hip. I see her face from a low hard angle, see her jaw set, so determined. Mom's mind is fixed on my learning how to swim, but I'm not so sure if I care about swimming.
The Y, as daddy called it, seems wide and very flat, with circular brick. "Modern" was the word he used when he went there to play basketball. Daddy was supposed to get me into swimming lessons, but he didn't sign me up. Mom's got to do it, and in our house, Mom does whatever she decides to.
Inside, I hide under the edge of a counter, staring at mom's shoes. She wears Tretorns, I think. She says she likes them because they feel like pillows on her feet.
I feel cold blasts of air from doors opening from different sides, walking down a huge hallway. I drag my hand on exposed brick, which turns into concrete. I'm in the belly of the YMCA beast.
I want to go to the gym and play on the cushy mats, something I do when I come with daddy when he plays ball. I don't. Mom pulls me toward a door with a foggy glass window. She pushes it open. Inside there's a pool.
It's hot. The air's heavy and thick, sucking it into my lungs. It feels like something Tarzan might know, a word I've heard: tropical.
I don't remember changing into swim-trunks, but they were trunks; big and baggy and bunching up around my crouch in a way that feels very uncomfortable. The water's ice-cold. Goose-flesh rises on my arms. The tiny bumps sting coming up so fast. I cling to the shiny ladder in the water. I don't care that the ladder too feels cold.
A woman moves down a line of strange kids, pulling them of the wall one by one. Some go willing. Others fight her. I don't know which one I'll be.
Mom hangs her head over the side of the pool and sticks it in my face: "Be mindful of Mrs. Whiteside, son. You'll be fine. Trust me, you're very safe."
The last image I remember: being pulled from that ladder. It was silvery, drifting away. Fear was all I felt. Fear was all through me. I was just so scared of the water that day...
In my mind, somehow time has evaporated between that silvery ladder and when I started to really feel the water. I remember racing my first backstroke race. I remember my first 50 yard butterfly. I remember, fleetingly, diving into the pool and my paisley Speedo dragging down to my knees.
Then, I'm running with kids through the YMCA. I'm a little older, and happy. I know some time in the future I'll be traveling to swim meets. I know I'll have fun and be with friends. Swimming is my life. Pools are my home. Somehow it all happened so quickly.
It worries me to know that million of kids can't and won't have the opportunities I've had. Millions come from families that can't afford swimming lessons. I never thought about it until I met Christopher LaBianco, my friend who heads up the USA Swimming Foundation. I'm glad we met. I'm glad he understands swimming from my perspective. He patiently told me the stats I should have known, but didn't: that drowning is the leading cause of injury-related death for kids under fourteen. Being a swimmer, you would think you'd know your sport top to bottom. I never thought about it. And why should I? I was given my opportunities.
"Don't all kids learn to swim?"
The answer is clear and true and sad.
"They absolutely do not."
We can change that, and we have to a tiny degree. On Facebook we're coming together day by day, as a very interactive and caring community. I'm so thankful for Facebook. I've met so many old friends there, and made many more along the way. Many have joined "Suppport the USA Swimming Foundation" cause page. We've grown rapidly. We crossed 2000 members today!
I know we're going to continue to grow. The Foundation is the most positive part of USA Swimming. We save lives, one swimming lesson at a time. You can feel good about supporting kids who can't afford lessons. You can spread the word and recruit new members to join, and of course, any financial support is greatly appreciated.
For the next four weeks we're offering Foundation towels, big, beautiful, fluffy white, 100% cotton towels. I like them. They're very high quality. They have the USA Swimming Foundation logo on the corner, and one can be yours as our thanks for a $100 donation.
Drowning is a serious issue which can be solved by water-safety education, but I know being serious all the time isn't how most people like to spend their day. So I'll be doing my best to remind you of our CAUSE in entertaining ways. Swimming to me is a lifestyle. It's fellowship, fun and family. Join us and have fun participating.
A great example of participation is Brandon Franklin. He's a Champions Club Member, master swimmers, and all around swimming expert. But I call Brandon my friend. We've done a video together to get the word out about our towel offer. Brandon also shot some of the best footage our of great Olympic swimmers and USA National Team members lending their support. If you see Brandon, say hello. He's Foundation Family, aside from being a very thoughtful guy. Here's the video:
I'm already missing the swimming action from the Missouri Grand Prix, though the action was only action in between moments of an audience that was yawning and even sleeping.
The crowd politely applauded the winners. The few times I heard whopping cheers, however, they were disappointing. Ryan Lochte, aka Reezy, got his standard screams. They came from his ever expanding female fan-base, a phenomenon I witnessed in December at the Short Course Nationals and in mid January at the Long Beach Grand Prix.
Above, I grabbed this shot of Reezy waiting to do a pace 50 doing warmup. He's so funny, you never know what face you're gonna get when you snap a shot.
Ryan's times in Missouri were all incredibly fast, and all the more impressive because he was wearing a tiny Speedo. I know his coach, Greg Troy, is a little "old school." I know Coach Troy isn't afraid to hammer his swimmers during a heavy training cycle. That's where Ryan's at now, and that may be the reason for the sad face above. At one point during the weekend competition, Ryan meandered to the blocks, looked back at me and said, "This race is gonna be the death of me."
What's sick about Ryan's talent is him going a 53.84 for 2nd in the 100m fly, then turning around and going 4:19 for 1st in the 400 IM.... Ryan is Reezy for the female fans who cheer and scream. To me, he's one of the greatest swimmers I've ever seen compete.
As a stretch, I can't peer into Ryan's brain. I can't tell you his thoughts and his dreams. But I do think he might see an opening now to be USA Swimming's top star. So far, Ryan's played second fiddle to Michael Phelps. With all the pressures of fame Michael's experienced, it's yet to be seen how it will affect his swimming. I'm a huge fan of both athletes and want to see them at their best, but factors outside the pool can cause immense stress.
I worry for Michael, though not as much as people might think. I know his coach, Bob Bowman, is a pro. Bob's unflappable. The Bowman-Phelps team comes across almost mean.
On deck in Missouri, Bob was affable and focused. It was clear that while he guides Phelps, he also coaches many other greats.
Katie Hoff, one of Bob's new pros, swam tough the entire meet. She essentially negative split her 400m free, if you factor in the dive. I'm a huge fan of Katie's. I think she's poised to have a very long, successful pro career. It's clear she's unhappy with her 2008 Olympic performance, and that she's prepared to show the world she's the best in all her events.
In the swimnetwork interview above, after a win, I screwed up a question so bad Katie started laughing. Under normal circumstances, I would've just yelled cut! I couldn't, however. Our interview was blaring over the PA system for all to hear. I felt terrible for Katie, and apologized when we were done. Pro swimmers deserve pro-treatment, and that's not what Katie got. Luckily, Katie was sweet, as she always is. She said, "That's ok. You got one question right." Katie's nothing but positive.
Nick Thoman is also swimming for Bowman, and he's a swimmer to watch. He went sub 53 in the 100m back last year while the rest of the world was watching backstrokers in Beijing. Nick's about 6 feet 2 inches tall, but sounds like he's 8 feet. His voice rattles your bones because it's so deep. Nick got 2nd to Ryan in the 100 back at the Missouri Grand Prix. Nick said Bowman had been beating him up in practice, and that he wasn't even expecting a fast swim...
Mary DeScenza swam fast. I love Mary because she swims 200 fly, but she also does every other event. I predict that Mary will be the overall high-point winner and net the $20,000 Grand Prix purse in the end.
Outside of the competition pool, love was in the air. Sounds silly, but maybe not considering Laure Manadou, the French swimming star, was in Missouri. She's apparently dating Fred Bousquet, one of the most exciting sprinters to watch in swimming. He's French, and an artist of sorts, with the coolest body art of any athlete I've ever seen on deck.
Fred's not big, but he looks like a monstrosity when he sprints. He blazed a 21.59 in the 50 free for the win. It was the only time the Missouri crowd seemed to really wake up and get excited. It was in that moment that Jack Roach (a coaching guru) pointed out Laure Manadou in the stands. Jack said, "I'm pretty sure she's living in Auburn with Freddie Bousquet. Why don't you go talk to her? Get an
interview?"
So I did, or rather, I tried, but it didn't work. Laure obviously wanted to remain anonymous, and support her man, Fred Bousquet. She did let me snap a quick pic.
I'm fan of Laure's. She's a great talent. And I hope she continues in the sport. (I was very angry when the infamous naked photos of her circulated on the net. It was clear to me they were very private and not meant for public viewing. I got a lot of emails saying I should blog on the topic, but I felt it wasn't news.)
French swimmers are big news. The Frenchmens' 400 free relay, after their loss in Beijing, will be formiddable over the next four years. After Fred's 50 free win in Missouri, I asked him about their chances in 2012. Fred, a member of the Frenchmen's 400 free relay, said "Rome would be it."
Whenever and wherever I travel in swimming circles, I always look for BJ. My wife does as well. BJ's a social-networker of sorts, and in all the best ways.
BJ knows everyone in the Olympic world. She knows elite-swimming from the inside out. Aside from being a friend, she's a respected peer. I go to her for insider info and advice.
I didn't agree with BJ on the issue of the competitive suits. Since the world records started tumbling, I felt it was fantastic promotion for the sport. I knew my opinion was short-sighted and maybe a bit shallow. Media attention isn't worth it when it slowly eats away at your sport's credibility.
I now think FINA (swimming's international governing) should lock a governor on the technology. While I think BJ might like to go back a step and make the suits more traditional, I believe the technology should simply be more balanced among all the brands. We need a vibrant and very competitive swimsuit market. NIKE SWIM and ADIDAS made noises about backing away or even leaving the competitive swimsuit industry. That would be devastating to athletes who depend on swimwear contracts to support their training. (To a degree swimmers have already suffered. There's already been some real economic damage.)
I can't express enough how difficult it is, outside of an Olympic year, for elite-swimmers to generate money. Elite-swimmers (other than the usual suspects like Phelps, Torres or Lochte) are dependent on USA Swimming (thankfully the best and most supportive Olympic sports governing body). In sum, I'd like to see the athletes who are out of the medal-hunt, those getting 5th through 25th place, be able to eat, sleep and train without any worries. The first step in making that happen is having a diverse and competitive swimsuit market.
I know my opinion's still narrow. I know it's very biased. I can't help it. I care about elite-swimmers, especially the ones who fight and struggle, but fall just short of making the Olympic Team or winning medals. I was one of them once. I lost a lot more than I won. In truth, that's what usually happens for most of your career, until you break-through and have a shot at making any kind of money.
If you love BJ Bedford, or have just met her and now you're intrigued, check her out in action at a NIKE SWIM party in Las Vegas (in the video below). I didn't know NIKE SWIM that well. They came to the sport after me. (I was a Speedo kid and a Speedo elite-athlete.) NIKE SWIM put on a great party for their coaches and swim teams. BJ was one of the hosts and we had a great time. Being with BJ is always a great fun. If you're a swimmer or a coach, don't hesitate to say hello to her. She's very honorable and loyal, and wonderful at everything she does. I only expect success from her at her new job with IMPACT SPORTS.
Saturday, I was on the beach, stealing a private moment with my family. Sadly I hadn't done this once in over 13 months. I had been consumed with work, Olympic swimming, promoting the sport I love so very much.
There were rules. I made the rules. While with my wife and daughter, I would not check email or Facebook, or make twitter updates, or vlog. Not for 24 hours. I told my wife this proudly, as if to say, see, I'm a good husband and a father, who cares about his family.
The central California coast was uncrowded, almost sleepy Saturday evening, and I couldn't help but shoot some video, and once the video was rolling, I spontaneously started to vlog:
I did have Phelps on the brain that day. Driving to the beach that song from his famous commercial thumped on my wife's iPod, so I grabbed footage of us racing over the highway. I figured I'd use it for a web-show I'm doing with a friend. Later that evening when I recorded the vlog above, I was thinking about Phelps a little again. It had been such a great year for swimming, largely due to him. I was so thankful and appreciative of his talent--his mother's sacrifice, his coach's sacrifice---thankful the swimming world had rallied around him.
I literally stopped the recording (on my camera phone) and it rang. I wasn't going to answer it. I promised myself I wouldn't, but Tif was way down the beach chasing Bayley. I thought, I'll just say hi, and let me hit you back later, whoever you are...
It was a friend and an editor of an online swimming site. "Have you seen the reports on Phelps?" he asked. I told him I hadn't. He said, "You might."
That night I ate dinner with my family outside, the sound of crashing waves just beyond the lamp light. My wife and I talked in code, semi-debating the Phelps situation. We couldn't really get into it with my daughter at the table. As the evening worn on, we walked the little beach town, played video games in an old arcade, ate junk food. We vacationed.
I don't care what the photo looks like, I thought. It's not Phelps, at least not until Phelps confirms it.
The next morning I woke up stressed, my back and neck stiff as a board. We ate breakfast in our room and watched Bob Costas yuk up Super Bowl football. Bayley, our daughter, got bored. She wanted to play out on our private deck in the hot tube. We let her, and I waited patiently for my wife to bring up the Phelps topic.
Tif's mostly head and I'm mostly heart. I dodged and weaved, putting a positive spin on every argument point. She was all business, contract morality causes, employee responsibility. "If you or I did this," she said, "we'd be fired." I couldn't say anything. I could only nod.
We debated the topic as adults, from that very short-sighted point of view. The gravity of the situation didn't occur to me until my daughter popped her head in from our private deck asking about drugs. She'd heard us, and she wasn't supposed to.
We didn't have "the talk" then. We dismissed the topic entirely. Moments later, as if on cue, Bob Costas read Michael Phelps' statement confirming that he was the guy holding the bong.
Our last day, our last five hours in the sun, was the best we've had as a family in a long time. No clouds. The was air cool, but warm enough for shorts. I collected sand-dollars with Bayley, and chased her on the beach as she laughed, zig-zagging back and forth.
It's easy to forget problems in the company of kids. They're all about the freedom of the present without a worry in the world.
I wanted to explain to Bayley what had happened with Michael Phelps. I was desperate to put the situation into perspective. I wanted her to know everything I knew. I wanted her to understand the circumstances. I wanted her to comprehend some level of truth.
My mind reeled, turning all the information over and over in my mind. I had forgotten how much of it was painful. World-class athletes live for very small slivers of celebrated time.
It's lonely training hours upon hours, logging 50, even 60 miles per week. As the years wear on you tell yourself, stay focused, it's all going to be worth it. You know the payoff, the personal gratification and honor of representing your country, owning that small piece of Olympic history, not to mention the endorsement and appearance money. Thousands take that path and enjoy the process. While it can be very lonely, there is also a unique camaraderie in shared pain. There's an unspoken closeness in tight circles. It makes it tolerable through the cycles of aching numbness, and near ecstasy when your body finally recovers and you feel superhuman. Your entire life as you know it is all senses; ravenous hunger, comatose-like sleep, and that gear you learn to find in your body when you know you've entered a place that no else has ever experienced.
Then you win, and then it's over, and suddenly you're lost. The world's inviting and loving as you float from city to city soaking up adulation that rings true, and sometimes rings very false. You've dreamed about this and wanted this since you were young enough to desire something real. When you get it, you know it's not what makes you you. You know who you really are is back in the numbing pain, in the trenches of endless work and safe repetition.
It's jarring when the training and competing lifestyle stops. It's abrupt and weird and you never quite feel right. Your energy's boundless, difficult to contain, and it's not uncommon for athletes to burn that fuel in other ways.
I knew what I was thinking wasn't revealing, but it's different when you've experienced it yourself. I spiraled after the Olympics. I made mistakes. I had moments out partying in public that thankfully pre-dated digital cameras. Few would want their life documented at the age of 23 for the world to see. All I felt on Sunday was worry and compassion for Michael Phelps.
He's back in the water anyway, I thought. He'll be ok so long as he has that. Michael will grow and mature and break more world records. He will continue to wow us with his talent. Swimming will keep him through this difficult time. Swimming was how he got here and it will be how he gets back.
Bayley, my daughter, was in state of bliss while I thought about all of this on the beach. She knew something was wrong. She knew it was about Phelps. Bayley has lived in a sort of Phelps Ph.D program since early 2008. I work from home and often show her my videos or read her my columns. She's well-versed in Phelpsian doctrine. She looked up to him because her I did, because I gave her long lectures on the artistry of the Phelps butterfly...
We talked about Phelps there on the beach. She was confused by the photos she'd seen on TV. I told her "Michael has won 14 Olympic gold medals, and no one can take that from him. Michael wasn't lucky or spoiled or privileged. He worked very hard for that accomplishment. But, what he did, what you saw on TV, that was a bad mistake. It was foolish, and trust me, he will suffer a lot of shame and embarrassment. There will also probably be consequences, a kind of punishment, but that's what happens when people make poor choices. I personally don't think Michael's bad. I think he made a bad decision. I think he's going to learn from this and go on to do amazing things. I know he will because he always has his swimming. A lot kids look up to him, and they should want to set goals and work hard and try to achieve. That's what we all learn when we watch great athletes. They are the example. They show us what we thought we couldn't do. But they are not heroes. They are only people. They makes mistakes. We all do--and unusually more than once. What you need to know is that when you make mistakes, it's not the end of the world. It's how you learn from them and move on that makes you a better person..."
