The Athlete Way

A few days ago, the National Team returned to the Olympic Training Center in Chula Vista for a short training camp before the Champions Challenge Tournament in Dublin, Ireland. This post is about exhilaration of my experience returning to training camp after the let-down of the Olympic Games. I turned the handle, pushed the door aside, and walked through. Bam. It hit me like the rolling in of a late summer storm.   A soft, clean, indistinct smell wafted into my nostrils. It was a familiar yet paralyzing scent – it was the powerful smell of nostalgia, both blurry and timeless. With eyes that should have been wizened by age and experience, I gazed at the seemingly unchanged room - the large box-cushioned couch against the wall, the wooden tables, the antiquated brown refrigerator, the TV – though new - still hanging in the corner. My feet dug deep into the dorm carpet. I stood still. My heart leapt. I felt like a kid again, like the kid I’d been l...

I've missed writing. I haven't had time for it lately. I've been too busy traveling. I drove cross country from San Diego to New Jersey (an epic adventure I'll surely recount to you, one day) then, on a whim, I flew down to Mexico, back to Guadalajara, for the Junior Pan American Games. In a couple days, I'll trek back to California for training camp before making a two week stop in Dublin for the Champions Challenge. Did I mention, I highly disdain traveling? Back to writing. The truth is, I haven't made much time for words lately. Maybe, in way, I'm scared of them. Sure, I love 'em. Words, sometimes, are more me than the me you see in the flesh. They flow from some deep, or maybe superficial, well of self, that truthfully I never knew existed until a few years ago. Words, they enchant me - casting this ultra seductive spell that transforms mundane daily tidings into a fantastical adventure. Maybe, I don't write because I'm scared tha...