I'm just thankful for everything, all the blessings in my life, trying to stay that way. I think that's the best way to start your day and finish your day. It keeps everything in perspective.
I was still young when I missed Beijing. I was favourite to win a medal but I knew I had time. My coach advised me to stay at school and finish my exams. Even if I had gone and won the Olympics, I might not have handled the pressure. So I moved on.
I teased Randy Orton because he started using my finish, the Angle Slam. I said, 'Hey, I don't mind you using it, but at least give it a name.' When he hits it, the announcers just say, 'Well, he just hit that... thing.'
The world is full of people who have dreams of playing at Carnegie Hall, of running a marathon, and of owning their own business. The difference between the people who make it across the finish line and everyone else is one simple thing: an action plan.
What I think a lot of great marathon runners do is envision crossing that finish line. Visualization is critical. But for me, I set a lot of little goals along the way to get my mind off that overwhelming goal of 26.2 miles. I know I've got to get to 5, and 12, and 16, and then I celebrate those little victories along the way.
I don't wear base, as I don't like to cover up my freckles, but I couldn't live without YSL Touche Eclat for hiding my under-eye circles. I love the smoky-eye look, so I use Dior's 5-Colour Eyeshadow in Night Dust and lashings of mascara. I finish with a dash of bronzer for a healthy glow.
When I was in fact a child, six and seven and eight years old, I was utterly baffled by the enthusiasm with which my cousin Brenda, a year and a half younger, accepted her mother's definition of her as someone who needed to go to bed at six-thirty and finish every bite of three vegetables, one of them yellow, with every meal.
I know what it's like to finish the laundry and to look in the basket five minutes later and it's full again. I know what it's like to pull all the groceries in, and see the teenagers run through, and all of a sudden, all of the groceries you just bought a few hours ago are gone.
I'm racing against me. As long as I come across the finish, I'll be okay.
In the end, the American dream is not a sprint, or even a marathon, but a relay. Our families don't always cross the finish line in the span of one generation. But each generation passes on to the next the fruits of their labor.