Michael Phelps
I sat down in bed, thinking about my day, starting with swimming, during which Bob had called me out on liking Valencia and being distracted by her, and ending with wandering around Beijing.
“So you really do like her, don’t you?” Ryan asked, glancing over at me.
I sighed, and decided that there was no point in denying it anymore. “Yes. But I’m not going to do anything about it until the Olympics are completely done.”
“Get the gold, then take care of your emotions.” Ryan said, gazing blankly at the ceiling. “Are you sure you’re going to be able to keep your focus off of her for that long?” He said, voicing exactly what I was thinking.
“I don’t know. I’ll see when I get to that point and figure it out then.” I replied, drifting off to sleep.
The next morning I dragged myself through practice, still tired from the restless sleep I had gotten the night before, being too distracted by Valencia to actually sleep. I took a break and sat down out of the pool to relax before getting back in. Looking over to the lane that Valencia was in I noted that she had a very powerful stroke, and an even more powerful kick.
“Mike, you’re not going to last until the end of the Olympics at this rate.” Bob said, nodding towards Valencia, “You should talk to her before the games and get it over with. I think that will be best for you. For both of you.”
“I can’t. I don’t want to ruin any chance that I might have before we really start.” I replied. “If I get too distracted, I’m going to need you to pull me back.” Bob nodded, telling me to get back into the pool, so I did. After finishing my practice for the day I packed up to go back to my hotel room, mentally telling myself that I couldn’t see Valencia tonight so that I could give myself a break from the torn thoughts in my mind.
As I walked through the hotel, straining to keep my mind on swimming, I crashed full force into someone. “I am so sorry!” I said, reaching down to help up the person who I had knocked down. My heart nearly stopped when I saw that it was Valencia. Immediately every thought that I had been suppressing about her came rushing to the front of my mind.
“It’s okay, I wasn’t paying attention,” she muttered, smiling up at me, “night Michael.” Valencia scampered down the hall, avoiding my eyes, and rushing to her room.
I walked into my room, trying not to read into Valencia’s strange behavior. I stopped when I saw Aaron Peirsol and Brendan Hansen standing in my room talking to Ryan. “Hey!” Aaron said, smiling at me.
“We’re thinking of starting up a poker game, some of the other guys and a couple of the girls said they were in. You up to it?” Brendan asked.
“Sure,” I muttered, following the guys to their room where I saw Valencia, Rebecca Soni, Natalie Coughlin, Peter Vanderkaay, Jason Lezak, and Matt Grevers sitting around waiting for us.
“Hey Mikey!” Matt said, giving me a short hug.
“Hey Matty!” I said, mocking him.
“Alright children, we playing some poker or not?” Rebecca said, tossing a pillow at me.
“I’ll deal,” Natalie shouted, grabbing the deck of cards before anyone could object.
We always played a couple of games of poker, just to get our minds to relax and think about something other than swimming for once. Several rounds later everyone had folded except for Peter and Valencia, who smiled innocently at me, probably noticing that I was staring at her. I snapped myself out of it and forced myself to look away and engage in the conversation that was going on around me.
