I remember how the friction burns and sears into my tightened fingers around the flexing high-bar.
Swing, swing and then... Release!
Somehow the body knows where to find grip and then - push!
The memory is clear. Leaning forward, fingers splayed anticipating the next move, muscles tense and bunched, the power within is ready to be released...
‘Hey, Jack! You like that? Impressive athlete, great high-bar work, huh?’
I relax and allow the tension to flow away from my body. At least from the part that I can still feel.
‘Sure, Tom, I like that’.
‘Listen Jack, I know he’s good but you were better, ya know?’
Yeah, I silently agree. But for the accident, I too, could have gotten gold.
‘Push me home, Tom.’