Time flies by so quickly, except when you’re flying.
The interminable flights to and from Beijing seemed to last 10 years. And that was 10 years ago.
Really? How can that be?
The cluttered mind vividly recalls the airborne journey from Vancouver to Beijing in August of 2008. Shoe-horned into a coach seat, I somehow fell asleep — an excellent way to pass the time on an 11-hour flight.
It seemed like an extended slumber, considering the soreness in my neck. (Question: How can someone invent a flying machine that can soar above the clouds, but not a comfortable airplane seat? But we digress ...)
I checked the time. I had been out cold for two hours. And seven hours remained until arrival — a prolonged period in which I was filled with anticipation and dread.
As excited as I was to cover the 2008 Summer Olympics, I was filled with nervousness ... fear, even.
But once I got to Beijing and sorted out the logistics, I was, uh, filled with nervousness ... fear, even.
At that point, I had been employed by the Regina Leader-post for 21 years. I had covered a wide array of sporting events as a beat reporter and a columnist. I thought I had seen it all, done it all.
Then I arrived in Beijing, and felt like the rawest of rookies all over again.
It took forever to disregard the enormity and magnitude of the Olympics and simply slide into work mode. This annoying little voice inside my annoying little head kept screaming: “You’re at the Olympics.”
It was very cool to be there, but that voice ...
Suddenly, I felt the obligation to write everything at an Olympian level, and the pressure to elevate the calibre of my work to new heights. To a degree, that should be the objective every time I sit down in front of a computer, but there is the danger of psyching yourself out.
That is precisely what happened during the first week in Beijing. It was the most intimidating period of my vocational life. The basics suddenly seemed like monumental tasks.
Consider my first interview at the Olympics. It was with a Canadian gymnast named Nathan Gafuik.
The chat began, auspiciously, when I struggled to even activate my digital recorder.
Then I kept staring at the little device, convinced that it would suddenly seize up. I was so preoccupied with the technology, such as it was, that I barely listened to what Gafuik was saying.
I remember his lips moving. That’s about all. I was in a fog — or a smog, perhaps, considering the haze that enveloped Beijing.
As soon as the interview was over, I quickly played it back, just to make sure that the recording had been OK. It was then that I discovered what he had actually said in response to my disjointed questions.
Upon transcribing the interview, it was time to write the story.
That should be the easy part, right?
Writing stories is what I do. I have written tens of thousands of them, sometimes with a window of 10 or 15 minutes.
Yet, I sat there staring at the screen, completely frozen. It took the longest time to even type in a sentence, which would soon be deleted. I was at the Olympics, after all, and a very small part of the grandest stage in sports. As a result, I felt the overwhelming pressure to produce the best story of my life, with the unfortunate result being that it was one of the worst.
In the final analysis, though, my memories of Beijing are predominantly fond.
It took me a full week to become comfortable with the surroundings and to finally calm down. Once that occurred, and that annoying little voice went away, I had the most wonderful time.
I savoured every assignment, to the extent that I even requested and received extra duty. One fine day, I covered three different sports — one each in the morning, afternoon and evening.
The final assignment, on a Sunday afternoon, was the men’s volleyball gold-medal match between the United States and Brazil.
On the bus ride back to the media village, I looked out the window and was sad that I would soon be leaving Beijing.
I flew home the next day. On the Vancouver-to-beijing flight, I watched four movies and wondered where the time had gone. That much has not changed, 10 years later.