I Wanna Be Like Mike (Phelps, That Is)

One of my secret wishes in life is to be an Olympian. When I was eight-years-old, I saw Picabo Street bomb down the slopes in Nagano and decided that it was my dream to become a gold medalist in alpine skiing. As I grew older, my love for politics and music took over, banishing my dreams of skiing stardom to the realm of memories. Every two years, the Olympics invade my television screen, inspiring little Antigone’s athletic dream to escape its cerebral confines and revolt against big Antigone’s intellectualism and pragmatism. As the 2008 Summer Olympics come to a close, I need your help, dear reader. What sport can an aggressive but uncoordinated nineteen-year-old pick up and pursue all the way to the Olympic stage? Keep in mind that I am not fast, but I have a lot of endurance and an eight-year-old’s enthusiasm.