Thought-provoking light-bulb moment occurred tonight. I realized that I will never compete in the 2012 London Olympics. Not because I’ll be the ripe old age of 52 (there were all those admirable mature athletes at this past Olympics – the 41-year-old American swimmer, the 33-year-old German gymnast.) No. It’s because - gasp – because I’ve been using steroids.
Yes. It’s true. I use dexamethasone 3 days each chemo treatment. While clearing my heart and lungs of fluid (and keeping me awake at night,) this also obliterates my chances of future athletic competitions. (Jacob will be so sad to learn his mother doesn’t even qualify to play professional baseball. What a shame. I’m now in league with Mark McGuire and Barry Bonds...)
As I figure it, even if the steroids aren’t still in my blood by then, they could always eliminate me by use of the hair test. All they would need to do is take a sample of my almost-existent hair (I have little 1/8” transparent swirlies up on top) and this would prove my use of steroids.
I’ve been thinking what events I’ll be absent from in 2012. The hurdles? I loved running them in junior high. Diving? At fifteen I was a daredevil and would dive off the high dive - usually landing on my back - ouch! Gymnastics? In High School I successfully completed a cartwheel on the balance beam. Or, maybe the vault – that was my real passion. I loved to run, jump, place my hands and throw myself over the vault – woohoo wee! (Can you see me trying that now?)
Well, I guess I’ll have to inform the Committee that I’m no longer available for consideration. I’ll bow out now and clear the way for others to take my place. Sigh…..
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