Chapter 4E - The Olympian: Alexandra Orlando - by Anne Shier (a.k.a. "Annie")

(Based on the book “Breaking Through My Limits:  An Olympian Uncovered”,

copyright 2012, by Alexandra Orlando)

As related by Ms. Orlando (from early-to-mid 2006):

Then, it was finally time.  I remember the day before my flight to China.  I was sitting in my living room with my mom packing, and was so excited that I couldn’t stop talking.  It was happening.  Finally, my dream was coming true.  I must have pinched myself a million times to make sure I was awake, and if I could have run with my injured ankles, I would have run all the way to the gate in the airport.  My coach and I wore our Canada jackets so proudly as we boarded the Boeing 747 heading straight to Beijing, and my mom took pictures of us walking through security.  The next time she would see me I would be competing at the Olympic Games.  I remember thinking that I must have been living a dream.  This couldn’t actually be happening…but it was.

From that moment on, I was in heaven.  From the very first step outside the airport in Beijing, the humidity hit me, and I knew I had arrived.  The sweat dripped down my back, and my hair began to curl in the heat.  Even though I’d been to multi-sport Games before, nothing compared to the feeling of driving up to the athletes’ village for the first time, to see the Olympic rings everywhere, and to wear your accreditation around your neck, proudly branded an Olympian.  Nothing could get me down now, no injury, and no bad training.

The village was like a city with its own buses and streets weaving around all the apartment buildings and facilities.  There was everything you could have imagined at your fingertips:  a gym, a training pool, a leisure pool, a shopping mall, an international zone, video game lounges, Internet lounges, meeting places, pool rooms and basketball nets.  There was a river running through it too, and beautiful, decorative pieces and sculptures everywhere you turned.  It did feel like we were in China, but in our own little world within it.  The cafeteria was the biggest I’ve ever seen, open 24 hours a day with more food than we would ever need.  I stayed away from the McDonald’s until after I was done competing – it was too tempting.

Everything was so organized and well run, I felt like I was staying at a resort not an athletes’ village.  I lucked out and stayed in a three-person suite in which two girls had opted to stay out of the village in order to focus, so I had this huge room to myself for the entire Games.  It was perfect.  I immediately draped my huge Canadian flag over my balcony and hit the streets to explore.  You could rent bikes during the day, and ride around and get out into the city to clear your head.  I loved every second of my Olympic experience, even with my two taped ankles.  My coach and I were so relaxed because up until a month ago, there was a very real possibility that we wouldn’t even be here. 

We were celebrating in our own right.  It was a miracle.  Every day before training, I would get my ankles taped up by the medical centre, and my physiotherapy team became my family.  I had one very special woman travel with me to and from the venues, making sure that I had everything I needed.  She was a miracle worker.  Without her, I never would have felt as comfortable as I did with all that tape on, holding my ankles together.  She took away as much pain as she could, and I will be forever grateful for that.

After a few days of acclimatization, it was finally Opening Ceremonies.  This was the moment that I had been waiting for my entire life.  When I was a little girl, I would stay up and watch the opening ceremonies of the Olympics live, wherever they were in the world.  I knew that I was going to be one of those people out on the track, that I would be an athlete.  And here I was, seventeen years later, realizing my dream.  I was going to be one of the people I used to idolize, and maybe even inspire future athletes sitting at home in Canada, watching us walk behind our flag.  All I remember wanting to know so badly was how the track felt under my feet, and what it sounded like to walk on it.  For years, I imagined the sensation.  My whole body was tingling with excitement. 

We were ushered into the arena beside the Bird’s Nest (the main stadium), and sat there with all the other countries’ athletes, waiting for our turn to make the long, slow walk to the main stadium where we would finally have our moment.  It felt like hours to wait, and the energy was infectious.  Each country would be called to start lining up and heading over.  Finally, it was Canada’s turn.

The heat was unbearable as thousands of athletes were crammed all together in a gigantic line outside that weaved its way toward the stadium.  We could hear the crowd and the performers as we got closer and closer.  Team Canada was wearing white, and in the heat, it was all turning see-through.  No one anticipated that we would be standing outside in the humidity for hours, but there were no complaints.  It was the Opening Ceremonies of the Olympic Games.  This was what we had dreamed of.  We got to a waiting spot where they handed out food and water, and the anticipation was draining us as it felt like we would never get there.  And then, the sights and sounds were so close, you got goose bumps.  

The opening to the arena was just in front of us, and it was our turn next.  It looked like we were going into a dark tunnel before emerging into the middle of the madness.  It got quiet all of a sudden when we entered the building, as if we all knew it was coming.  Then, without media cameras present, without any other countries, without anyone but Team Canada, someone started singing “O Canada” in the dark tunnel.  It was so raw and beautiful that we all joined in.  It was just us Canadians in that moment, so proud to be Canadian, so honoured, so inspired.  No matter what happened, no matter if you won a medal or not, whether you had the performance of your lifetime or you didn’t, we could all sleep at night knowing we were a part of this team.  Together we were strong, we were one.  When we walked out into the spotlight, we knew that we’d never get a moment like that all together again, and it is something that I will hold in my heart forever.

(to be continued in Part F)

Copyright 2014, Anne Shier.  All rights reserved.