Part II

Photo by Jeff Salvage, copyright 2004

Philip with Gold Medalist Jenny Finch pitcher for the U.S. softball team.

Opening ceremonies, walking into the Olympic stadium with the U.S. team.

Philip hanging with tennis great Martina Navratilova, U.S. tennis team.

An Olympic Journal—
Written in the Olympic Village from Athens

By Philip Dunn,
2000 and 2004 Racewalking Olympian

This is Philip’s final contribution of the Olympic experience as an Olympian. Philip finished 35th in the 50k racewalk with a time of 4:12:49. He is pleased with his performance.You can also access his full journal on the Internet at www.edunns.net.

August 14 — Opening Ceremonies
I’m back from an exhilarating and exhausting opening ceremonies celebration. It was everything I had hoped and more with lots of fireworks, big entrances, and best of all, tons of friends with whom to share the experience.

I was able to walk in with Olympic Training Center friends. Because the Greek alphabet is different than ours, the USA didn't come in right at the end with the ‘U’s as usual. We came in near the middle of the pack and were able to watch all of the other countries came in. The highlights included marching into the Athens Olympic Stadium for the first time with flashbulbs blinking and thousands of people cheering. I felt so very small waving like a little kid at a parade amid the crush of humanity. I felt so proud of the work it took to get me here. I met famous people like Jenny Finch and Martina Navratilova and met not-so-famous people who were just nice and friendly. I walked in with friends from Ecuador and Columbia. I marched out of the stadium with athletes from Sudan, Iraq, Mongolia, Russia, Italy. We laughed and talked as we waited for the buses. Arriving back in the Olympic Village I found the cafeteria packed with people who were ready to dance and sing and stay up late. I am so glad that I am here. I feel so blessed to be a part of these beautiful games, this beautiful sport, and this beautiful world. If you saw me I was the guy dressed, as my Ecuadorian friend said, “ like a baby rap musician in pajamas and a floppy hat (see photo on next page).”

August 27 — After the Race
Memories of these Olympics will stay with me for the rest of my life. Some will be more vivid than others and some will likely fade over time. One of the images that will stick with me, though, is the spectacle of sheer joy on the faces of my 50k racewalk competitors when they crossed the finish line. These were not the walkers who won the gold, silver, or bronze medals. These were the walkers from Kazakhstan, Greece and Hungary who struggled mightily just to reach the line after four hours of suffering and valiant effort, who stumbled and clawed their way over the final kilometers to reach the Olympic Stadium, who represented their myriad countries with honor and dignity. These were my brothers.

It has been hard to assimilate all of my Olympic experiences. From the moment of the opening ceremonies until now, as I prepare to put on my closing ceremonies clothes, I have been a bit spellbound by the history, tradition, and power that these games in Athens exude. The mere fact that we are here competing in the shadow of the Acropolis makes the games more special than I had imagined possible. Spending time here in the Olympic Village with athletes from all countries of the world has brought home the truth that we are all one big global family and we ought to start treating each other more like neighbors.

Many of my memories are from the race itself. Some just flashes, glimpses, fleeting memories that linger in my mind. The rush of emotion as I stepped out onto the Olympic track under the glare of lights was overwhelming. As I waited for the starter's pistol in the dim dawn, listening to the steady drum of my heartbeat as I settled into a rhythm on the road away from the track to the 2k circuit. I walked listening to deafening whistles, bells, and shouts of the exuberant Polish fans who cheered for every walker but especially their pride and joy, winner Robert Korzienowski. I walked in the shadows of trees, buildings, and clouds passing over the sun forming an unpredictable mosaic of light and dark on the road. My thoughts drifted and I wondered if I had my Greek mythology right and thinking, “I need to focus.” Then came the steady dull ache of tired hamstrings and sharper, more acute pangs of blisters as they formed and popped late in the race to moisten shoes and socks, followed by the brief emotional crisis late in the race as a well-meaning supporter yelled “Do it for Al.” (Al Heppner committed suicide in February after not qualifying for the Olympics.) Biting back the tears and focusing on my breathing, relaxing again, I felt the surge of adrenaline as I passed one, two, and more walkers who had faded in the final kilometers. I then faced the long, climb back towards the Olympic stadium, breathless, fighting for control of my limbs. Finally entering the stadium for the last time, I was eager to finish yet eager to extend this Olympic dream for as long as possible, finally stumbling through the press zone to the showers to the bus to the Village, to lunch, and to bed.Tonight I make my way to the closing ceremonies with a light heart and heavy eyelids. The friends I have made over the past two weeks will march in with me under the flickering glare of the Olympic flame. We will march in as a world united, America next to Iraqi next to Argentina next to England next to Indonesia and on and on. We will be one big mass of powerful, graceful, sexy athletes gathered together peacefully to celebrate our common humanity. We’ll trade pins and T-shirts and hugs and tears and we’ll promise to meet again in Beijing four years from now.

Thank you all for following my adventures and cheering my efforts. Remember that in our hearts, we can all be Olympians if we meet every obstacle with grace and determination.
Peace.