Even though I was in the shade, it was a lot hotter under the bleachers than sitting up in the sun. But, I was where I wanted to be. It was the end of the summer, and I had already sat through enough of my sister's swims to know exactly how embarrassing my mother would be. So, every time her heat came up, I crawled under the bleachers. I was 4.
Luckily, when my sister was at a gymnastics meet, my mother had to contain her enthusiasm. I don't really remember watching my sister perform at gymnastics meets like I do at swim meets--a testament to my mother's more appropriate behavior, I think.
Initially, I alleviated the need to sit with my mother at my sister's meets by joining the team myself. I'll never forget my first swim--one of the biggest revelations was that the swimmers couldn't hear a thing in the pool. All that carrying on was for nothing.
Once we moved back to Hometown, Sissy had to travel an hour and a half (one way) to get to a decent training facility. She was in the 8th grade and it was pretty clear that her swimming could pay her way to college. I was in the 4th grade and there was no way I was going to spend that much of my life in the car. So, it was back to finding hiding places while she swam.
These were no longer rec league meets; we were at Olympic caliber indoor pools--no hiding under the bleachers. Instead, I would entertain myself by marking my sister's splits and the other times in her heat. My mother still carried on--she once got a massive bruise on her arm after slamming it into a wall when my sister failed to meet a desired time. I think maybe the look on my face led her to contain herself when Sissy later reached her goal in a time trial.
The Olympics have been fun for me ever since watching Rowdy Gaines and company in 1984. Most of that is due to the education my sister gave me--in swimming, gymnastics and diving. Maybe London will have cooking and Tivo fast-forwarding and I can return the favor.
Luckily, when my sister was at a gymnastics meet, my mother had to contain her enthusiasm. I don't really remember watching my sister perform at gymnastics meets like I do at swim meets--a testament to my mother's more appropriate behavior, I think.
Initially, I alleviated the need to sit with my mother at my sister's meets by joining the team myself. I'll never forget my first swim--one of the biggest revelations was that the swimmers couldn't hear a thing in the pool. All that carrying on was for nothing.
Once we moved back to Hometown, Sissy had to travel an hour and a half (one way) to get to a decent training facility. She was in the 8th grade and it was pretty clear that her swimming could pay her way to college. I was in the 4th grade and there was no way I was going to spend that much of my life in the car. So, it was back to finding hiding places while she swam.
These were no longer rec league meets; we were at Olympic caliber indoor pools--no hiding under the bleachers. Instead, I would entertain myself by marking my sister's splits and the other times in her heat. My mother still carried on--she once got a massive bruise on her arm after slamming it into a wall when my sister failed to meet a desired time. I think maybe the look on my face led her to contain herself when Sissy later reached her goal in a time trial.
The Olympics have been fun for me ever since watching Rowdy Gaines and company in 1984. Most of that is due to the education my sister gave me--in swimming, gymnastics and diving. Maybe London will have cooking and Tivo fast-forwarding and I can return the favor.
