What were you doing a year ago today? Technically, it was last night because of the time difference, but I’m willing to bet that you were in front of the TV (or in contact with someone who was), waiting and wondering if what was once thought to be impossible could be achieved.
On the morning of August 17, 2008 the men’s 4x100 medley relay won gold in Beijing’s water cube, earning Michael Phelps his record 8th gold medal in a single Games. It was a great night, and I’ve kept coming back to it in my head all this week. Also, with Indy and Rome over, I’ve been feeling generally nostalgic. So I just thought I’d commemorate the awesomeness of last summer by posting about how and why I got into the fandom. It’s a bit clichéd, but it’s the honest-to-god truth.
The Olympics are kind of a tradition in my family. We have a history of generally not watching much TV (Saturday morning cartoons were unheard of until I was about 9), but watching the Games whenever they came around was pretty much a nightly ritual for as long as I can remember. I even harbored dreams of Olympic glory at one point before realizing that I had no athletic ability whatsoever. Lord knows I tried everything, but the only sport I ended up being marginally good at was swimming. Even after I stopped, I had a fondness for it, albeit a strictly quadrennial one. I was always excited whenever the Summer Games came around, but I never went out of my way to do any outside research or follow any other meets.
The summer of 2008 started out like any other Olympic year. I watched trials (which is where I also discovered the gloriousness of Ryan Lochte) and was excited for Beijing and the possibility of history being made. But that was it. I never expected any of what would happen next.
That July, my uncle died of a brain aneurysm. I don’t have the skills to accurately describe what losing him felt like, nor do I particularly want to. But I will say that it hurt. A lot. I honestly think the only reason I got through that summer was because of those Games, particularly the swimming. When I cheered on Team USA, I forgot about how shitty I felt. During a time where I felt like I would never feel happy again, I discovered that I could. And for that, I will always be grateful beyond description.
Like most of America, I was completely caught up in Phelps-mania, and committed one of the cardinal sins of being a voice major by yelling myself hoarse more than once during the Epic Quest for 8™. For the first time in my life, swimming didn’t just fade into the background after the last medal had been awarded and the last montage was aired. Yes, Michael Phelps was what re-piqued my interest, but he’s not the only reason why it didn’t go away.
In the course of a year, I have gone from casually liking a sport to genuinely loving it. I have connected with people all over the country and strengthened some of my existing friendships. Sure, people might automatically label me as a shallow (see what I did there?) fangirl with absolutely no interest in swimming besides how many abs I can count on the pool deck. But I’ve kind of stopped caring (Also, I have this rule that you’re not allowed to judge unless you can name 5 swimmers competing today other than a certain 14-time gold medalist, kthnx). I admire these athletes for their skill and dedication. They inspire me to work harder toward my own goals (although my lazy side is still winning. This year, things change. Honestly).
Over this past year, swimming has become an integral part of my life. I wouldn’t want it any other way. And it all started with those eight nights in various living rooms where nothing seemed to matter except for who got their hand on the wall first.
