Now it is a talisman of frightening power.
“I wore it every single day at the NCAAs (the American college championships) when I was in my third year of university, which was like a month before Olympic trials. And I had the best meet of my life. I was like, ‘Ah, there’s something to this’.”
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As she does on just about every subject, the 25-year-old swimmer from Stratford is warming to her theme. Her escalating verbal pace defies transcription.
“So then I wore it every single day of Olympic trials, and every day of the Olympics. I got to the world championships in 2009 in Rome and the strap broke.”
Most athletes have lucky charms.
When she heads out to compete, Wilkinson packs like a witch doctor on holiday. Her kit is full of familiar objects: comfort food, beauty products, her pillow from home and a whole bunch of other junk she cannot be separated from.
Without her own stuff, Wilkinson gets edgy. And when she gets edgy, things go wrong.
“It’s a little OCD.”
One example: As a 14-year-old, Wilkinson put great store into the winning properties of purple Gatorade. When she headed to a meet in Victoria, she worried that non-primary-coloured sports drinks may not yet have made their way out west. So she filled an entire suitcase with purple Gatorade.
However, Gatorade is a speculative aid. The green sports bra has proven magical powers.
“So it was broken and I figured I shouldn’t wear it . . . ” — we’re back at those 2009 championships — “. . . and I started out horribly. It was the only meet where I didn’t make the second round in the 200 IM.”
Emergency seamstressing was required. Canadian teammate Tanya Hunks’ mom did the repairs. Things turned around immediately.
“Sometimes I tell myself that I’m not going to wear it, but I don’t want to be walking out there during something really important and wondering if it really is that lucky,” Wilkinson said, the verbal rapids slowing. “It’s kind of being silly.”
She has tried to wean herself off the lucky green sports bra, but only half-heartedly at smaller meets. She takes those successes home to her fiancé, Shane Minks, a baseball player she met at Texas A&M. While Wilkinson is telling this story, Minks is giggling beside her.
“Sitting in the coffee shop with @juliah2o listening to her interview with @Torontostar,” Minks tweets on the fly. “She is such a cute nerd.”
Since an Olympics is no time for cold turkey, the bra will be jammed somewhere into Wilkinson’s bulging luggage for the trans-Atlantic journey.
She qualified for three events in London — the 100m freestyle, the 100m backstroke and the 200m individual medley (the one undone three years ago by the broken strap).
She’s chosen to drop the medley, for a variety of reasons. First, the heats for that event fall on the same day as the finals of the backstroke, her best stroke.
In qualifying for the Canadian team, Wilkinson broke the minute mark in the 100m backstroke for the first time, placing her amongst the world’s best.
Second, the IM’s four strokes complicate training.
Maybe you’ve guessed the third, which is that Wilkinson is someone who tends to worry. A simpler routine bodes for a better Olympics.
In order to keep calm, Wilkinson needs her things. She has her stuffed animal, a sheepdog named Bozarie that she’s had since she was 5.
She’s not sure if that’s how you spell ‘Bozarie’. She’s never had to spell it before.
“I don’t know. Maybe it has two ‘i’s … (pause) … Gimme a break. I named it when I was five.”
There are her gold UGGs, which she moved retail mountains to find.
“They kept trying to sell me silver ones. Silver. That’d be setting myself up for second.”
There’s her yoga mat. Yoga is the discipline Wilkinson uses to stay centred.
“It does take up a lot of space in my bag,” Wilkinson said, sounding a little worried about added baggage fees already. “But sometimes I’ll take it out on the pool deck and just sit on it. It’s my little magic carpet of calm.”
Early in her career, Wilkinson’s pre-race nerves were legendary. Her ready room vomiting routine was nearing Glenn Hall proportions.
“What I’ve learned is that if I get to a place where I think I’m going to throw up, then I’m going to throw up. I can’t get myself out of that place. I have to be able to see that coming before I’m even aware that it’s there.”
After doing her warm-up, Wilkinson begins a series of breathing exercises. There’s also the mat.
The surest way to stay serene is inserting herself in a group of friendly competitors and chatting about nothing. Wilkinson is a globally famous ready-room small talker.
“Very vocal,” stone-faced teammate Ryan Cochrane affirms. “She’s all kind of … friendly.”
“He’s always making fun of me about that,” Wilkinson sighs.
What do you talk about? “Stupid stuff. Like with (Australian Olympian) Emily Seebohm, her parents and my parents have the same sort of dog. So we talk about Viszlas.”
The key is to prepare for racing by not thinking about racing. If everything goes to plan, Wilkinson will only begin to entertain swimming thoughts as she gets up onto the blocks.
With the competitive angle set, all Wilkinson has to worry about is packing.
“This is going to be so much easier than Beijing. You wouldn’t believe what I had to take there. I went crazy saying, like, ‘What if they don’t have shampoo in China?’ This will be a lot simpler.”
KEY COMPETITION
Based on her most recent times, Wilkinson has as many as six swimmers to climb over in order to make the podium in her best event, the 100m backstroke.
The key amongst them are the current world champion, China’s Zhao Jing, and former world record holder, Russia’s Anastasia Zuyeva.
She’s also got Canadian teammate Sinead Russell to contend with. Russell made the final at the last world championships, but finished behind Wilkinson in qualifying.
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