We Lived Much Early

I had a random conversation with an old swimming teammate at the University of Texas today. I hadn’t chatted with him in at least 15 years, though I often think about him. He was an Olympic gold medalist whom I was intimidated by upon first meeting him. Over years, though, I found myself becoming close friends with him.

“We lived much early,” he told me as we reflected on our pasts. “So much so that it sometimes feels that life is not so short after all. But time does pass.”

I thought about that era of my life and realized that yes, we did live much early. We were on swimming national teams and enjoyed all the privileges that come with this. In a four-year span I traveled to Singapore, Thailand, Montreal, Sidney, and all over the United States. In that time I was part of an American-record setting relay and another World Championship winning relay. I competed at two Olympic Trials and finally retired from competition… all by age 22.

After the curtain call of my competition days, I moved to California for three years, tried in vain to enter Hollywood, moved back to North Carolina in defeat, worked in the corporate world, randomly embarked on a two-year stint of teaching English in China, returned to the US, and now live and work in Saint Louis. In my Saint Louis years I’ve embarked on two multi-day bikepacking trips, swam with sharks in the Bahamas, hiked through Yellowstone National Park in Montana, hiked through Shawnee National Forest in Illinois, and visited Puerto Rico, Mexico, Northern California, and Indiana. And I’m still leaving a lot out for the sake of brevity.

“We lived much early.”

I have blogged previously of my stubborn refusal to succumb to time; of how the fight is ultimately a losing battle, but one I’d prefer to lose while standing on my feet (or riding downhill on a bike) over a submission to the modern-day version of retirement.

Though I lived much early, as I reflect on the past two years, I think that I’m living even more now. And yes, it does still feel as though life is long. At some point I will have to accept that it isn’t.

And though I’ve had some close calls over the years, including a head tumor (the surgery was successful), getting hit by a car and tearing my foot, and breaking my collarbone in another cycling crash… time, which is symbolized by a dragon for me, and as a crocodile for Captain Hook… has not devoured me just yet.

More adventures remain ahead. I am healing from the latest wound. I gaze out at an endless ocean on Hook’s ship but do not yet hear the ticking clock, which rests in the stomach of a crocodile that still swims far from here.

I lick my wounds and get back up. I see no other option, though the collarbone aches today. Tomorrow is another day, and with it I’ll find another mountain to climb, and another good bottle of wine to imbibe.

The aim, of course, is to live much late.