{A photo I took at an El stop on my trip in 2006}
I leave this morning for Chicago. I’m speaking at Moxie, a conference for creative professionals that happens tomorrow. I started thinking a lot in the last few days about the last time I visited Chicago. That was in 2006, and I went to compete in the Gay Games. The Gay Games (formerly known as the “Gay Olympics”) is a sporting and cultural event that happens every four years (just like the Olympics). In the early 1980s, gay and lesbian athletes were a hidden and marginalized community (inside an even larger hidden and marginalized population of people). That began to change when the Games were founded in 1982. Now the Gay Games is one of the largest sporting events in the world! In 2006 the Games were held in Chicago, and I was lucky enough to go and compete in swimming. I had been swimming competatively almost my whole life, minus college. I am a strong swimmer for sure, but not college athletics strong. That kind of dedication was not something I could fathom as an 18 year old.
{Standing in the registration hall for the Gay Games VII}
I came back to swimming when I was 27 years old. I joined a Masters team in San Francisco that is mostly gay, but open to all swimmers. The event in Chicago was my probably my 30th masters competition, but my second Gay Games — I’d also competed in the Games in 1998 in Amsterdam. The 2006 swimming events were held at the University of Chicago Aquatics Center, and every day my teammates and I caught a bus from the The Magnificent Mile get to the pool. The University’s aquatics center is vast and beautiful. I was also a team coach, so I went nearly every day to the pool whether I was competing or not. I happen to love being around swimming pools; the smell of chlorinated water makes me giddy.
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On the eve of the start of the Games, there was an enormous opening ceremonies celebration at Wrigley Field. As my teammates and I walked toward the stadium, along with thousands of athletes from all over the world, there were anti-gay protesters all around us. It was the first time in my life I’d ever encountered anything like this in person.
{My teammate Dave standing next to the protesters so I could snap a photograph}
Of course, we all laughed (probably out of nervousness) and tried to make light of it. The weirdness of it all was eclipsed by the enthusiasm of the crowd as we entered the stadium. Thousands of people came to watch the opening ceremonies and cheer on the athletes. I still get chills just thinking about it, even this many years later.
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Over the next several days, I competed in seven swimming events, both individual and relays. Freestyle was my stroke — I swam everything from the 50 meters to the 1500, and most things in between. That week, I won six gold medals and one silver medal in my age group. It was, needless to say, one of the most exciting weeks of my life. My team did really well overall at the Games too, and we were all pretty excited.
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All of this happened seven years ago, and my life was so different then. I was still working a full time job. I hadn’t yet adopted Wilfredo or met Clay. My art career had barely started. Swimming, next to my career in education, was the most significant part of my life. The following year, I left my team and gave up swimming competitively when I decided to dedicate more of my time and energy toward my artwork. I was also burned out after 11 years of practicing several times a week with my team, coaching and traveling to compete. I still swim several times a week now, but not on a team and far less seriously. Looking back at these photographs makes me remember what an amazing and huge part of my life competitive swimming was: how much I loved my teammates (many of whom are still good friends today) and what a rich experience it was to be part of a swim team founded by & for gay and lesbian athletes.
When I look back at stuff like this, I realize I never could have imagined that my life would have changed in the ways that it has, for better or for worse (I was actually pretty happy back then; my life was just different). It makes me realize that while we can influence a great deal of our future by our choices and intentions, so much of it is just chance. Who knows where we will all be in another seven years.
Have a great weekend, friends.






























