Introduction

Under the Christ with Open Arms

It will be hot today, but it’s still early, and I barely break a sweat as I bike at a steady pace through Flamengo Park on the coast of Rio de Janeiro. It’s a regular circuit for me, but the wide range of characters I come across every morning continues to amaze me. There’s a runner proud of his gym-honed physique. Fleet of foot, he dodges a couple of gringos walking around with their heads on a swivel, perhaps nervous about the rumors alleging a lack of safety. A drunk, beer in hand, sitting on one of the nearby exercise machines could indeed confirm those fears. Nearby, a wrinkled man listening to music while sunbathing in his Speedo shows them the other side—free and uninhibited—of this wonderful city. Without even thinking, I start to hum a tune by Mercedes Sosa:I’m grateful for this life that has given me so much / It has brought me laughter and it has brought me tears / It’s how I know the difference between bliss and brokenness / The two themes that make up my song.

I’m well aware of the privilege of experiencing this moment. The stakes are high, but that pressure doubles as a source of joy. It makes me feel alive, and it will drive me to perform at my best. I’m fifty-five years old, I’m appearing in my sixth Olympic Games, and this bike ride on the morning of August 16, 2016, brings me to the race that will determine whether or not I will achieve what I’ve been pursuing for nearly three decades: the gold medal in sailing.

In a short while, Cecilia Carranza will also be biking to the marina where we keep our boat, a Nacra 17 catamaran debuting in the mixed events at these Olympic Games. She has downloaded the Argentine national anthem onto her phone, though it’s a version performed by Los Piojos, a rock band from her generation. She listens to that song on repeat, again and again. It’s from a live performance, and the howling of the crowd with which the song starts lends it a sense of power, connecting it with the task we came here to do. Ceci has grown a lot during the time we’ve been sailing together. A short while ago, at breakfast, I noticed the confidence in her eyes. We didn’t talk much, not even a few words of encouragement. There was no need to.

Yesterday, the day off before the final competition, her nephew Berna dropped in for a visit.

“Tía, they told me not to say anything to you, but I’m so nervous!” he said.

Ceci laughed and explained that we had trained for this moment as best we could. Win or lose, we would lay everything on the line. That much was certain. The road that brought us here was a long and winding one, to be sure. Among many other things, I had never sailed with a woman before, which is a requirement in this category. Also, we came from different sets of experiences, something which created an uneven relationship and a lot of tension. “Take a better tone with Ceci. Never raise your voice or pressure her again,” I jotted down in my little red notebook after on