March, 13,
2003
BERLIN, Germany
The following
text is provided courtesy of Clara Hughes and speedskating.ca
MEMORY OF A TRAGIC MOMENT
By Clara Hughes. Her bronze
medal in speed skating at the Salt Lake City Olympics
made her only the second woman and fourth person ever
to medal in both the Summer and Winter Olympics. She won
two bronze medals at the 1996 Olympics in cycling.
One of the good things about
spending time in Europe is the amount of TV time dedicated
to the variety of sports one rarely has the chance of
seeing in North America. Speed skating, cycling, and cross-country
skiing are but a few of my favorites.
There's nothing like watching
the last two hours, barely interrupted by commercials,
of cycling stage races like Paris-Nice, the Tour de France,
and others long and short. Paris-Nice is has been on screen
this week and it has brought back many memories of racing
in the beautiful southern region of France that I have
spent many a spring, suffering like a dog on the narrow
tree and castle-lined roads, in the women's Tour de L'Aude.
The first few stages had me
missing my bike and that unpredictable sport. So much
so that my focus began to shift from this weekend's World
Speed Skating Championships in Berlin to the upcoming
cycling season. All the moments of toil have been forgotten
after a winter on ice and, once again, as it is for the
ice after a summer of suffering on the bike, it feels
like a dream to go back to the 'other' sport, respectably.
Memories are like that, we
tend to forget the difficulties and remember the fun and
the freedom of doing something one loves and thrives in.
The reality of pursuing these dreamlike endeavors often
turn dark when faced with the struggle that each and every
goal entails. The struggle feels shallow after what happened
during the second stage of the French race. My sweet recollections
turned to sadness and shock when I saw the Confidis (Confidis
is a French Pro Cycling team for those of you not familiar
with the sport) rider lying on the road, cars stopped
all around and people frantically wondering what to do.
Something didn't look right
by the way he was lying. It was announced the following
day that he had not survived the impact, a head injury,
and had passed away.
Now is the point in this story
that I wanted to write about - my teammate Nicole Reinhart
who lost her life in a race just short of the 2000 Summer
Olympics in Sydney. She had not made the team that year
but was sure to reach her dream of representing the USA
next time around. Instead she was competing in a much-hyped
race in a suburb of Boston.
After writing a few paragraphs
I realized there is no way I can recount that day. Words
seem frivolous at this time and I cannot find the combination
to express what happened out of pain and because I was
not there. Instead I was oceans away preparing for what
I thought was the most important thing in my life at that
time. Boy was I wrong.
As I watched yesterday's stage
of Paris-Nice, the neutralized procession of racers going
the distance in unified sorrow, the teammates of the Confidis
rider riding just ahead of the peleton looking numb, I
began to think of what Nicole's death has meant to me,
someone lucky enough to come out of some pretty horrific
crashes bruised and battered, a girl fortunate enough
to have had the opportunities of living her dreams.
I was at the Olympics feeling
pretty sorry for myself, as I had been sick with the whooping
cough for seven weeks at that point, wondering what I
was doing there and if I should even compete. I had lost
sight of what it was, the Olympics. Perhaps I never really
knew.
Four years earlier, in my first
Games, I won two bronze medals and somehow had expected
the same, or better, the second time around. My vision
of excellence did not have me standing in the crowd watching
the medal ceremony; it had me on the podium. That I was
not at my best wasn't good enough and the thought of a
sub-par performance was not acceptable. That all changed
when I read the news via Internet early the next morning.
How could I feel this way when someone so precious was
gone? I felt selfish and humbled, as well as confused.
As each day passed, I believe
it was seven in all before the road race; something began
to change inside of me. Instead of fixating on the incessant
coughing fits during training I began to think of how
lucky I was to be on my bike. It felt as if Nicole was
there with me on each of those rides in the Australian
countryside, smiling down.
I began to think I was not
only there for myself, but perhaps, and more importantly,
I was there for her. This feeling evolved after moving
back to the Olympic Village (we had spent much of our
time to that point in a smaller city) and I found pamphlets
on the 'Olympic Truce' which gave history of the games
and the meaning. Sport became far more than a game. I
felt I was there for all of humanity.
This may sound ridiculous or
egotistical but the strength of vision I had at that moment
in time could have moved mountains. I was so far outside
of myself it was profound. It's not what we do that counts
but the effect it has on others that matters. If done
right, with a smile, I felt I could show people that anything
was possible. I thought I could give, if only a person,
hope. The difference was this vision did not rely on winning
anymore.
Sport is something that parallels
the human struggle-the will to succeed, the agony of defeat,
the hero path. I think humanity needs heroes for us to
continue, and sport is something that has the potential
to display excellence as a human being, not just glory
and winning.
These things are secondary
to me when compared with the true challenge within. This
is what I saw in those Olympics-and what changed my life
in a profound way. If the commercialism could be toned
down a bit perhaps more of this could filter through to
the public, especially the kids.
Finishing that road race is
still one of the proudest moments of my life. On a day
when it was so easy to quit because I wasn't 'winning',
I completed the 120kms in the rain and cold, most of it
on my own, and finished over twenty minutes behind the
top racers. It was all I could do on the day and it was
so clear that was the reason I was there: to give my all,
whatever it was. The time trial was the same and I still
cannot believe, to this day, that I finished in sixth
place.
I feel driven by this vision
of excellence and after yesterday's reminder it is clearer
than ever. Results are something out of our control, who
finishes first, second, third...and at a basic human level
not what gives us happiness. It is the experience that
we have the power to dictate, whether it's good or bad.
No matter how hopeless things
seem there is something special to be found if one is
willing to look for the smallest glimmer of light. As
humans we are conditioned to focus on that which is out
of our control. If only people can step outside of themselves,
their own personal dramas, they would see this. And maybe,
if only for a moment, smile.
As the World Championships
draw near these invaluable lessons run through my psyche.
I feel that Nicole is with me as I prepare to compete
in the sport that I love, in speed skating.
Sport has taught me to live.
I mean really live each day to its fullest, to thrive
in something that I love to do, to have a dream and have
the courage to follow it. It has taught me to break down
the barriers of limits, from within and others as well.
It has shown me that if you truly believe, and do all
within your power to work and prepare for what you want
to do, that anything is possible.
ANYTHING.
A narrative
by Clara Hughes...
February, 18, 2003
Baselga de Pine, Italy
MEMORY OF A TRAGIC
MOMENT
March, 13, 2003
BERLIN, Germany
EKWA!!! CLARA
March, 19, 2003
Glen Sutton, Quebec
From Skater to
Tourist to Cyclist
June 16, 2003
Glen Sutton, Quebec
A Beginner's Mind
September, 22, 2003
Solitude
October, 5, 2003
Calgary, AB
