When an elite athlete is in the same room as you, it's hard to believe that you're even from the same species.
They seem to breathe different air and not only because they're so tall. These athletes glide like big cats, their frames loose but perfectly controlled, the elements of their body familiar — yes, I also have arms, and hips and collar bones — but arranged nothing like theirs.
Athletes appear as if carved from some material I don't understand and gifted with a lofty self-containment among the world of tottering mortals.
So when I saw Olympic and Commonwealth games gold-medallist and champion swimmer Kyle Chalmers last weekend in the Sydney airport lounge I should have had the same reaction I always do when in the presence of our version of a modern god: astonishment battling goofy admiration, all the while trying not to stare.
But not this time. This time I was battling a rising sense of outrage — and then the strangest feeling of all: a keen desire to somehow make amends.
It was just a day or so after Chalmers had stood on the pool deck of the Birmingham Games after winning that signal event, the 100m freestyle, and had bitterly told fellow champion Cate Campbell that he found it hard to enjoy his exceptional achievements in the pool because of the way he'd been treated, day after day, by the media in their quest for a love-triangle spat.
After being part of the gold medal-winning mixed relay and the Australian team that set a world record, Chalmers had not been asked questions about his achievements.
Instead he had been peppered with increasingly sly and pointed questions about his relationship with former partner Emma McKeon, who was now dating fellow teammate Cody Simpson.
Both McKeon and Chalmers had repeatedly said there was no bad blood between them and had congratulated each other, but the pack was having none of that: there were surely tears on the pillow at night, and they wanted to hear about it.
I felt ashamed, then I was on my feet
Now, I've had my moments asking high profile people the uncomfortable questions, and sometimes they've even been very personal, but this was getting outrageous.
Winning a gold medal and setting a world record is a remarkable achievement and the behaviour of my fellow journalists in this moment made me deeply ashamed.
I kept thinking of Ian Thorpe's exhausted ruminations about months of watching the black line on the bottom of the pool as a swimmer trains for just those intense one and half minutes in the pool: so much hard work, so much sacrifice and focus; then, a gold medal in hand only to be confronted by something like this.
Before I even realised what I was doing, I was on my feet in the crowded lounge and was walking across to Chalmers and his small group. I heard my voice come out small and halting: I introduced myself and said I was from the ABC, and even from behind his mask I saw Chalmers jaw stiffen. He stepped back a little.
The words tumbled out of me: "I just want to apologise to you on behalf of every other journalist who felt as outraged as I did at your treatment by some of the media in Birmingham: it was just awful that you couldn't enjoy your amazing achievements and I want you to know that not all of us would have done that to you."
Chalmers blinked, and then managed half a rueful smile, almost managing to hide his anxiety that he was being accosted by a raving lunatic. "Yeah," he said, "it was pretty shitty."
"It was totally shitty," I said, "And I really hope that the feeling you most take away from these games is not disappointment, but a huge sense of pride and happiness at your achievements because they are remarkable."
I may have blathered on a little more, but Chalmers quietly thanked me, and I returned to my seat. A few minutes later his group gathered their things and made their way to their gate.
And no, I didn't take a selfie of the moment.
Neither PR, nor gossip
I know this will irritate, if not offend, sports and other journalists who will bark at me that they're not there to do the PR work of Swimming Australia, and I agree with them. But neither are they there to do the work of a gossip mag.
Even a glancing understanding of team dynamics — something I assume sports writers must turn their minds to almost every day — would surely mean they are familiar with the ordinary, even banal nature of intra-personal tensions, disaffection and maybe even enmity co-existing within a successful and competitive group.
You can have complex personal histories between you and still win championships. Competitive teams have worked and achieved within this dynamic since, I would imagine, Grecian days.
But the temptation proved irresistible to some in the pack: the end of one relationship and the beginning of another within one squad? Well, the script writes itself: it must be awkward, tense, maybe even heart-breaking for one of the romantic partners.
I get the desire to ask how the team functions in the aftermath of that, but once you've got the response from those involved, and it's evident in the pool that none of this is hampering performance, then any further pursuit of it is clearly just a provocation to get some tears, or temper, on camera.
Admit it guys: that's what you were after.
Instead, the press was admonished by the athlete for going close to wrecking his mental health and possibly chasing Chalmers out of his sport altogether.
I really hope they don't: I hope this gifted young swimmer stays. And I hope some reporters think about making an apology of their own.
This weekend let's remember the joy that Olivia gave us all and applaud the couples who decide to escape the wedding industry and make vows, just the two of them.
Have a safe and happy weekend and if you're not in Victoria, start planning your spring trip now, as the number of fabulous local and overseas artists who have joined the Always Live music festival across the state has doubled overnight.
So many artists to choose from: this one would be a good start. I'll see you there. Go well.
Virginia Trioli is presenter on Mornings on ABC Radio Melbourne.
