Puzzle Piece

The two pieces I posted regarding the luge accident have been drafted for quite a while. I didn't know where to put them. They are uncomfortable. They are not sunny. But they are necessary.

Chronologically they weren't ready to be posted right after the fact; they deserved more time, more thought. But to put them at the end, to have them appear glaringly at the top of the page as a punctuation mark forever, as representative of my entire experience? That wasn't right either.

Please don't look at these two posts as shoved into the middle of happier times. This is not an attempt to bury what happened by sweeping it under the rug. I also, however, don't want to ostracize that event and make it appear completely isolated from all of my subsequent experiences - on the contrary, it in some way influenced every encounter I had throughout the duration of my time in Whistler.

I'm still trying to find a place for this piece of my Olympic puzzle. If you ask me "How was the Olympics!?" I will answer that it was an amazing experience, because it was. If you (like so many people have already) ask me if I was there for the accident, I will tell you I was. It is not, however, something I am ready to openly discuss with people in casual conversation. It was not something I learned about on a breaking news story, as the rest of the U.S. did - it was something I experienced.

I plan to carry that burden without making a spectacle of it.

I Know How to Spell His Name.

I never met Nodar Kumaritashvili.

I do not know the sound of his voice.
I do not know what songs made him turn up the volume and sing aloud in the car.
I do not know his favorite color.

Here is what I do know.

I know that he was born three days after me on November 25th, 1988. He was 21 years old.

I know that he sought challenges. He chose to pursue a difficult career that requires a tremendous amount of technical skill at great personal risk. Even accessing proper training facilities, traveling to competition venues, and finding a qualified coach are significant obstacles in such a small sport world as luge.

I know that he was ambitious. He came here with the hopes of winning a medal despite being ranked 44th in the world. He believed in himself, and strove for excellence.

I know that he did not seek celebrity status in life. He chose the sport of luge, which goes virtually unnoticed in the athletic world except during a few days every four years at the Olympics. By aiming for a medal he sought honor, not everlasting world fame.

I know that he was brave. He came to Whistler knowing that he would be competing at the world's fastest track. He continued training after a dozen minor accidents occurred in the week leading up to Opening Ceremonies.

I know that he was focused. I could see it in his eyes as he adjusted his helmet and prepared to make what would become his final run. He took his sport seriously.

I know that my presence at the track and what I witnessed had a profound impact on me. He changed my life and my Olympic experience.

I know that he will never be forgotten. He will live forever in my glowing heart.