I am going to take this opportunity to brag. Don’t worry, I am not Charles Barkley. I’m not some bravado athlete that talks on and on about how many shots they can sink from the 3 point line. Nor am I going to give myself the nickname “Lightening Bolt”. (To be honest though, if it was me that broke Carl Lewis’ world records and no doubt his spirit, I would probably name myself that too.)

Anyway, what I AM going to brag about is this:

I met him. Simon Whitfield, our Canadian Olympic treasure.

I shook his hand and I am pretty sure I treated it like my venti latte and went for loads of extra pumps. He eventually pried his hand away.

I looked into his baby blues and then…wait for it…I simply demanded that he hand over his medals as if my pain, suffering and four years of training went into winning them. “Lemme put them on. I wanna wear them!” I shouted at him like a four year old. He stared at me for a few seconds longer than awkward and then with more grace than Princess Di he said, “Absolutely!”
He handed them over, both the Gold from Sydney and the Silver from Beijing, and just before I was about to crown myself with them I looked at him and said, “Just kidding!”

There is simply no way on earth that I would ever be that person. I think that would be like stealing someone’s pride and glory, not to mention their thunder. We snapped a few photos of me holding them…but that’s as far as we went.

Sincerely yours,
“Thunder Bolt”