An Olympian Regret

Never once in my blog, not even throughout the 13 years tenure, I ever talked about this particular thing that used to be a HUGE part of my early life.

I used to practice Taekwondo.

Like, religiously.

It all began on one fine Saturday when I was like, six? My brothers and I were watching Power Rangers The Movie for the umpteenth time in our laser disc device, when Dad suddenly announced that "starting tomorrow, you kids will be joining a Taekwondo club."

I wasn't a big fan of that idea. In fact, I hated it. I was an indoor type of kid, with hobbies including drawing and reading comic books. To be forced to have an actual physical training, namely on a freaking Sunday morning, where all the good cartoons were airing and my other friends were catching up to the next amazing episodes of each series, was a nightmare - or morningmare? - for the young me. Suddenly that scene where the rangers were fighting the tengu birds on Planet Phaedos was no longer my favorite.

And then, the years of "forced training" began. It was honestly a pain in the ass part of my life. From early pre-elementary school all the way to my first year of high school, I had to sacrifice my late Fridays and oh my precious Sunday mornings to come down to the court, practicing. I remembered we occasionally faked being sick, or having stomachache, or slept in late, just so we could skip a session -- but most of the time we failed, because Mom and Dad knew we were just being little assholes.

Hold on, I'm not here to ONLY complaint.

Surprisingly, when I looked back to those days, it wasn't a total complete bad experience though. Because hey, it lasted for 10+ years so if I couldn't manage to find the good side of Taekwondo I'd be dead halfway through. So yeah, there were some parts of the sport that I found really enjoyable. The gymnastics element - which we called the taegeuk, the athletics element which most of the time I excelled at, the demo we did to attract new members - we used to break clay roof and metal bars as part of these demo! the bi-monthly out-of town retreat, the friendship we made outside of school, whoa, apparently, there were a lot!

But one thing I really loved, and actually am grateful about until this time, is how fit I became now. I just realized how doing Taekwondo in earlier stage of my life really shaped my physical self that I carried out even until today. My current interest towards Thai Boxing and Body Combat didn't come just out of nowhere -- I'm pretty sure it's because of my Taekwondo past.

And so I thought that was it for my hot-and-cold relationship with Taekwondo. For years after I stopped practicing I always felt like, okay, it was a tie. I hated it and loved it the equal portion. Done. Never had I imagined that there's another layer of it I overlooked.

Which I realized from the Olympics.

A week has passed since the Opening Ceremony and I'm already becoming a freak. Well I've always loved huge sporting events like this you would never guessed how much bullshit I produced in my blog or Twitter for World Cup, Formula One, and all other similar stuff. Only this time, in this certain Olympics, I felt something different.

I've been watching badminton. I've been watching weightlifting. Been watching swimming, archery, kayaking, handball, water polo, whether we have Indonesian representations or not, I watched as many sports as I never did before. This is weird because some of those sports, I didn't even know at all.

But still I kept on watching, observed how each athlete strived to give them all, learned how each individual had amazing background stories which eventually led them to Tokyo this year, that each of them had their own struggles, to bring pride for their nations.

It really opened my eyes. And tickled that weird sensation inside of me. Is it humanity? Is it patriorism? Or is it... jealousy? Whatever it is, I just realized that

I want to be an Olympian.

I want to be the best in what I can do best. I want to be recognized. I want to be relied on. I want my name to be mentioned oh so proudly by the commentators, my stories to be recited by everyone. I want to represent my country, wearing the colors, walking down the stadium with the flag waving before me. I want to be cheered upon, on venue, virtually, from anywhere. I want to hear the national anthem playing to honor my victory. Or to honor whoever wins from my contingent. I want to cry when that happens, to have all hair in my skin stand tall as I do the same while the patriotic anthem plays. I want to be an Olympian.

This weird obsession grew even stronger just today, after I watched the Group Competition of Judo. Because apparently I don't just want to be an individual Olympian, but also being a part of a bigger thing -- to also fight with a team.

In the Judo scenario, each team consisted of three men and three women, coming from different weight categories. Everytime they lined up before or after the match, I always imagined that the first two heaviest members as the big brother and big sister of the group. The team captain and the group's mother, the major morale booster and strongest emotional supporter. The middle ones were the breadwinners of the team, equally strong and agile. The smallest ones were the youngest siblings, and this is where I pictured myself.

You ever had that "I wish I was a part of that squad" feeling?
Well, this is mine.

What they had was so pleasing to watch. Athlete supports athlete. When they were about to enter the court, when they won, when they lost, when they got picked for Sudden Death match, when they proceeded to the next round, when they failed to continue, when they... won gold.

Yeah, I want that.

Back in my Taekwondo days, I actually did some tournaments. As both individual and team. I, nor my team, never won any, though - my brother had won some in individual discipline lol. But it's not just about winning - said the loser lol. It's about the process, the training, the coming down to the stadium, coming down to the court, fighting your ass off, cheering for your team mates, screaming to a win and wailing for losing, being that Judo team I watched. And eventually, being proud of what I did.

But it's a bit too late now, eh?

I had my chance with Taekwondo but I was half doing it. I skipped the "line to success" and dropped it with joy as if I'm letting go of a lifelong shackles, not knowing that the regret would someday appear -- that I apparently need those shackles.

I started it at six. Or seven. An age those Olympians usually began their sporting journey. If I went on, who knows, I could be a Taekwondoin contingent from Indonesia, fighting alongside Greysia Polii and Rahmat Abdullah.

Yet here I am, just watching those people from my screen, wishing that I'd be one of them. Or wishing that in my next life, I'd be an Olympian. Well I guess for now that's the only thing I could actually wish to happen, eh? To be an Olympian in my next life.

Okay.

Let's make an oath of it.

"Here I am, promising to myself, that in another life, after I'm finished with this one and born as another, I swear I will be an Olympian. I will whisper this oath to him/her even when they're still a fetus living inside their mother's womb. I will haunt them when they turn 4 so they'd start practicing any Olympic sport. I will be that light coming through the black clouds, disguising as their sign that will make them say "that's it -- I'll fight my ass off to be an Olympic Athlete.""

Yep.

That's the only thing I can do now.

Because everything else is too late.

As I've stupidly given up on Taekwondo.

A sport I hated and loved the equal portion.

Now, I hated myself for not doing it better.

Imagine if I did -- maybe my love would win.

And this regret would

Never come in