Editor’s note: Josh George is a junior in communications. He is competing in track and field at the Paralympic Games in Athens, Greece. He’s keeping a journal, and he agreed to share it. Although his busy schedule does not allow for regular updates, he will update his journal whenever possible.

9/something/04

I don’t even know what day it is. I think it is the 25th. Since my competition started on the 22nd, I feel like I have been ushered through life by Greek speaking volunteers in brightly colored polo shirts. My family is here – they’ve been here since opening ceremonies. One of my aunts, two of my cousins and some family friends also are here, but I only get to see them, it seems, when somebody in a brightly colored shirt tells me that it is OK, or I show them that it is OK by flashing my credentials (a magnificent weapon at the Olympic stadium).

Brightly colored shirts are everywhere. They are there telling me what bus to get on when I need to go to the track. They are there telling me when I need to go to the call tent. And then I have to follow a brightly colored shirt through a series of tunnels to get to the staging area. Then, of course, there are the bright shirts that lead us out to the starting line. There is a row of bright shirts standing by to take our warm-up clothes to a holding room where we go to pick them up, from more bright shirts, after the race.

I guess I just made it sound a lot worse than it really is.

In all actuality, the bright shirts are all terribly nice people, and they are so organized that it makes the life of an athlete very simple. When you are doing a lot of racing, it just seems that you are always following one of them and doing whatever they tell you to do.

Enough with this dribble, on to the races I say. Damn, I have been busy; time has soared by me. Lots of firsts, lots of firsts in my life. On Sept. 23, I ran in my first final in the 400-meter dash, broke my first world record and won my first medal. Now to add some detail: I broke the world record but still got beat by two other racers (bloody fast and nice fellows from Korea and Kuwait). I took the bronze after a very good race.

It was such an odd experience, though.

First of all, I could have gone faster. I hate when I catch myself saying this, but this time it is true. It would not have changed any of the standings, but I did slip a bit in the final straight and that cost me a couple tenths. So I could have gone faster, but I still won the bronze. The man who presented the medal to me at the medal ceremony was amazed at how young I was (sorry, I put that in to remind myself that I have plenty of time to win a gold in this event).

OK, so I finished third, am pumped that I medalled, and then I am thrust down a hall where I am approached by a couple of different reporters and a drug-testing officer. While I am explaining to the reporter that I had predicted the world record would be beat in the final – though I had no clue it would be broken by three people – I had a green tag thrown around my neck, marking me for drug testing.

Then I was quickly ushered down a hall by the drug officer who was then approached by a bright shirt saying I needed to go to the medal ceremony first. So the bright shirt led me down another hallway where I was allowed to get out of my racing chair and to change into my medal ceremony clothes before I was led to the ceremony holding area.

After sitting there for a while, we had the medal ceremony. It was a bizarre experience. I had no idea how to act, and I really didn’t believe any of it was happening at all. The Kuwaitis were in the stands in front of us hooting and hollering and beating on drums in celebration. My dad was next to them taking pictures. And I was handed a bouquet, had a medal put around my neck and had a wreath placed on my head.

It was surreal.

Everything was in slow motion. I can’t actually say I was excited afterward. I was thrilled that I had medalled, but after the ceremony I was immediately thrown in the drug-testing center where I downed a couple POWERades and had to pee in a cup with some guy looking over my shoulder the whole time.

By the time I got out of there, I just wanted to find my family; give and receive smiles, hugs and photos; and go to bed. Did I mention this was the first time this had happened to me?

Looking back, I can’t believe I was so na‹ve to think that it would be easy to cruise around the stadium with a wreath on my head and medal around my neck. I felt like a celebrity. It is not everyday that people see Paralympic or Olympic medal winners walking right next to them, and when it does happen they get excited. I must have taken pictures with 40 different people as I tried to make my way around the stadium.

I was congratulated by everyone who passed me. Friends who I ran into stopped me with hugs and wanted to hear how I felt, and strangers with cameras formed lines to take pictures with me. It was the most amazing experience of my life, by far.

I never did find my family, though. It turns out that they gave up looking for me and had gone home by the time I got out of drug testing (I don’t blame them – I was in there forever). It was about 11:00 p.m. before I finally got to go back to the village, shower and go to bed.

I didn’t get to relax though. I told you, lots of firsts. Then next morning, yesterday I think, I had my 100-meter preliminary, which I did surprisingly well in, advancing to the finals with the third fastest time. Then came the big one: my first crash.

Go big or go home. That is one of my favorite sayings, and last night I suppose I lived up to it. It was in my 800-meter prelim last night, my favorite race nonetheless. On the starting line, I was pumped and ready to go. I was sure that I was going to win my heat and advance to the finals. But to do that, I would have had to finish the race.

Coming out of the first turn, I got overexcited and missed my compensator (a device that sets the front wheel in two directions, one for the straight and one for the turn). Missing my compensator meant I was flying down a straightaway at 18 mph with my wheel set for a turn. I was also in lane one and was at the break line with racers collapsing into the inside lanes with fierce disregard for whoever was already there.

Having no escape route to the outside lanes, I ended up clipping the rail on the inside of the track which sent me hurling back in the other direction to the outside lanes on two wheels. I almost made it out unscathed. I had one hand on the ground trying desperately to stay upright when a racer from Japan smashed the back of my chair, and another racer clipped my front wheel. That was the end of that.

My chair spun around before I went down to the ground splintering my front wheel and leaving me lying on my back on the ground. Physically I was OK, but psychologically I was down. My favorite race – and I was out. Alas, such is racing. To this date, I have had more good races than crashes, so the gods are forgiven for this one.

Lots of firsts, I tell you.