Chapter 4G - 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):

My family was sitting in the stands wearing their “Team Alex” shirts, with a Canadian flag draped around their shoulders.  They had flown halfway around the world for me, and it was all coming to an end now.  A huge banner was draped over the side of the stands with my name on it from a Canadian family that had also travelled halfway around the world to see me.  In a few short hours, I would be sitting back in this room having competed at my first Olympics, and my last competition ever.  I needed a moment to gather my thoughts.

I thought of the little girl who was told that she would never be good enough.  I thought of the little girl who was told that she was too fat to ever make it to the Olympics.  I thought of the woman who was strong enough to battle back.  I thought about my injuries and the stress I had put on my body.  And, I thought about all the sacrifices everyone had made for me.  I saw my family.  This was for them.  I taped up my ankles and went out there for the very last time.  I heard my name being called: “Alexandra Orlando, Canada”.  The Canadian flag was next to my name on the scoreboard, and I felt the carpet underneath my feet and heard the sound of my breath before the music started, and the hush of the crowd for that millisecond before I would start moving.  And then I played.

The judges’ eyes were on me, and it was over as fast as it had begun.  I heard the cheering, I waved to the crowd, but inside, I didn’t know what to feel; I could barely smile.  I had made one mistake in my final event and felt so discouraged, so upset as I walked off the carpet.  I tried so hard not to be upset, to tell myself to enjoy what I had done, to enjoy this incredible moment knowing that I had put it all out there, and should have no regrets.  But, I couldn’t help it; it was not perfect. 

So, I dropped from fifteenth place, and my coach told me to stop being upset and to smile, and that I was done.  But, I couldn’t.  The cameras were in front of me and I was scared that if I tried to smile, I would break down in tears.  I’m not sure if it was the mistake I’d made or the fact that I was done, and that it wasn’t the competition of my lifetime.  It wasn’t Worlds, which was still the highlight of my career.  Nothing would ever top that.  I guess I had an idea of what Beijing was really going to be like, but sure wasn’t that.

We all imagine things a certain way sometimes, and watch it play out in our heads, expecting to feel a certain way.  But, this wasn’t a Cinderella story.  As I walked through the mixed zone, there were a million camera men calling out girls’ names and asking for their comments and the Canadian media wanted me.  A very good friend of mine, a reporter for CBC Sports, called me over and asked about my family and what it felt like to have them there.  I lost it then.  I could barely speak, choking back my tears. 

I knew that I owed everything to them in that moment.  I had never wanted to disappoint them, and I thought I had.  My parents would kill me for thinking this, but it’s true.  I stood there under the bright lights with a microphone in my face, and told them I loved them.  And I knew that they would always love me regardless of whether I won a medal or not, and they were so proud of me.  I wiped away the tears and kept moving through the zone, getting pulled for one more interview.  Lights, camera, action:  “Alexandra, how does it feel to not live up to expectations?”  I felt like I just got punched in the stomach; I took one look at this little man, so tempted to punch him in the face, and smiled instead.  I had to laugh, “I don’t live up to anyone’s expectations but my own,” I said, and walked away, out of the gym and out of that world forever.  And, as I walked away, I realized that I really believed that.

I went back to the athletes’ village immediately, but couldn’t face my family yet.  I needed to be upset.  I needed to get my frustration out.  I had so many emotions running through my body that I needed to be on my own.  I needed to cry if I wanted to.  I needed to take a burning hot shower and sing at the top of my lungs, and I needed to be around athletes who were going through what I was.

My family thought I could do no wrong and I know that I should have been happy, but my career was over in a way that I didn’t choose or have control over.  I didn’t have a say in the matter.  I was injured, which meant I couldn’t compete to the best of my ability, and now it was over – no redemption, no second chance.  Not the fairytale ending every little athlete dreams of, but perfection was never the name of the game for me. I went to the Closing Ceremonies and celebrated with my team.  All that passion, all that frustration, it was all exposed.  When my family flew home, I stayed in China.

When those final days wound down and everyone was packing up and leaving, I sent my suitcases home and I flew to Shanghai and Hong Kong.  I needed this trip to be on my own, to stay in a hotel and tour unknown cities, and to be practically invisible.  I didn’t have to talk to anyone; I didn’t have to do anything.  I wanted to avoid the post-Olympic syndrome once you get home and are faced with a million questions.  I needed a break, and I needed it all to blow over.  I had to get ready for the next phase of my life, the next chapter where everything was going to be different, and I needed to let that sink in.

For the last seventeen years, all I had known was rhythmic gymnastics, which was as much a part of my life as breathing.  It wasn’t all that I was, but it made me the woman I had become.  It had given me such highs and lows that I didn’t know if I would ever feel them again.  I didn’t know if there would be something in my life that would ever be as extreme as my career in sport was; and I was scared of never finding it again, or finding out whom I was without it.

(end of Chapter 4:  “The Olympian” – Chapter 5 is called “Rock Bottom”)

copyright 2014, Anne Shier.  All rights reserved.