Sep 21 2008
Identity
A couple of things happened recently that got me thinking about identity.
I don’t mean identity in the sense of one’s personal details on one’s IC, but more of the intangible essence of uniqueness that sets us apart from each other.
Lance Armstrong, the seven-time Tour de France winner and, to me, one of the greatest athletes of all time, recently announced his planned return to competitive bicycle racing next year at the ripe old age of 37 and after close to four years of retirement.
Speculation has been rife over his motivation for coming back, after a successful career that saw him reach the pinnacle of his sport, earn a few millions and become a true-blue celebrity with a rock-star girlfriend and numerous A-list movie star chums.
His official reason is a desire to keep publicising his cancer foundation and fight against the disease to a global audience, a noble motivation for sure.
Some have suggested that he wants to erase suspicion he may have used drugs in his career by submitting himself to the now exceedingly stringent testing regimes that have sprung up in the last few years.
Others say he may have run out of money, or just wants a last fleeting dance with glory that so many former champions seem to lust after in their twilight years.
I think it’s something else, something deeper.
Armstrong was a champion triathlete in his youth, turning pro at the tender age of 15 and racing against the very best in the world. He became a world champion cyclist at 21, tasted success at the biggest races in the world, and then was diagnosed with cancer three years later.
His recovery and subsequent miraculous return to the top of the sport is well-documented, but what people seem to have missed out is that, first and foremost, Armstrong is a competitor at heart.
In the years since his retirement, he has run marathons and raced in the occasional mountain bike race. In all cases, he has approached the training and racing with single-minded focus and determination reminiscent of his years as a professional athlete.
I think he is coming back now because he misses that part of his identity, that thing that set him apart from all others in his own eyes, that made him HIM.
It’s not as simple as enjoying a sporting lifestyle. If that were the case, he could just continue to enjoy the occasional bike ride with friends and satisfy his passion for sports.
But he’s coming back and he’s coming back to win because that’s how he sees himself: as a winner.
My boss asked me last week why I was competing in a fencing competition over the weekend.
I haven’t been training as much as I used to when, as a member of the national team, I was preparing myself for competitions such as the South-east Asian Games, Asian championships and other events around the world.
In recent months, a change in life priorities has meant that I am spending my energies and time focusing on other activities, and my swords and fencing suits have been slowly gathering dust.
But when I heard that we were having national trials here in Singapore, I signed up in a second.
I knew that I would be up against other younger athletes who had been preparing themselves much better than I had.
I had a litany of excuses ready: I’m old, my carcass is breaking down, I’ve been too busy to train, there’s no big competitions to prepare for in the next few months anyway.
But I refused to trot any of them out and dutifully showed up to compete.
When my boss asked me why, I muttered something about needing the ranking points to keep my position as one of the top few fencers in Singapore.
This might have sounded like a fading athlete on an ego trip. And maybe that’s partially true.
But when I thought about it later, I realised that I still like jumping into the occasional fencing event, or even triathlon, because being an athlete has been part of my identity for a long time too, at least as far as my personal life is concerned.
I started out swimming at age 5, before competing as a gymnast, then triathlete, then pentathlete, and subsequently fencer, for most of my life.
Sport has been what I’ve always enjoyed doing in my spare time, and I think it has helped me to balance out school in my earlier years, and the demands of my career in my working life.
And it’s really hard to let go. This is how my family has viewed me over the years, it’s how my friends know me, it’s how I know myself.
Who knows, there may come a time when I will step back completely and move on to other things, like starting a family, collecting stamps or some such activity.
But I know, for now, that I can’t let go. It’s something that has been such a big part of my life, of my identity, that letting it go completely is hard for me to imagine.
I see this in my fellow athletes here, and in giants of sport like Armstrong.
What is the part of your identity that you can’t live without?
