Taking part in the Silver Bloggers’ this week’s challenge has taken me on a journey through time, but my journey is not the same as most people’s. Whilst many recall the colour of the grass on a football pitch or the glare of a basketball court, my earliest memories are of deep darkness. I was blind until the age of eight, and today, as a visually impaired person who relies solely on my left eye, my relationship with sport was not a matter of speed, but of perspective.
At primary school, whilst my classmates chased after a ball, my ‘extreme sport’ was quite different: I devoured books. The pages were my training ground and the words my masterstrokes. That voracious appetite for reading not only nourished my mind, but also sharpened my ability to imagine worlds I could not yet see clearly.
When I started secondary school, physical reality took centre stage, but not as a limitation, rather as a creative challenge. It was there that I discovered chess. On the 64-square board, visual acuity took a back seat, yielding the throne to strategic vision. I was part of the school team; there, time stood still and the world was reduced to the texture of the pieces and the geometry of a well-planned attack. At that time, I also made a brief but significant foray into gymnastics. It was an exercise in proprioception. Learning where my body ended and where space began, a dance of balance for someone who sees the world from a single angle.
Matthew and I. Our whirlwind visit to Merida (2024). Venezuela.
I must confess that there was a pang of nostalgia when I saw others playing volleyball, basketball or the classic Venezuelan ‘pelotica de goma’. These were sports involving fast trajectories, flying objects that my left eye still cannot track in time. But life, in its infinite generosity, had the best in store for me during my university years.
At university, I discovered absolute freedom in swimming. Underwater, gravity disappears and visual limitations fade away. There was nothing to hold on to; I just had to go with the flow, feel the resistance of the water and the rhythm of my own breathing. It was the perfect complement to hiking, my other great passion. Walking in the mountains, feeling the change in temperature, the crunch of leaves beneath my boots and the smell of damp earth taught me that sport isn’t just about winning, but about connecting with the environment.
Today I look back and realise that my sporting record is not made up of league trophies, but of personal victories. I couldn’t play football, it’s true, but I learnt to ‘see’ the world through the silence of chess, the effort of swimming and the immensity of the mountains. At the end of the day, sport is not just what our eyes do, but what our hearts feel when we move.
Hi! Everybody (friends), if you've made it this far, THANK YOU! You are welcome to participate; the link with all the information is below. But I also hope to read your comments in the reply box. Thank you for joining us in these waters of HIVE.
