At some point you know how long a lane is, when does the turn come, how does it all work. I still benefit from the fact, that I used to be able to see for the longest part of my life. You have to imagine it like this: You take a picture and cut out 90 percent in the middle and what's left is only some peripheral vision. Now I have only 1.5 percent vison left. The problem during swimming is, I can't see the black line on the ground. And even if I can see it, I don't have stereoscopic vision. So I don't know how far away I am, and when does the wall come. So if I hit the turn right or not, is often purely luck of the draw. My best friend is the lane. I'm swimming with my shoulder right next to it and sometimes I even hit it. Becoming a swimmer was like destiny for me. As a one year old I was running around and just jumped into our pool in Japan. I couldn't swim, I couldn't even do anything, yet. But I just jumped. Luckily my father was close by and jumped right after me. When he got me, I was just laughing. That's when my parents knew: The child has to learn to swim as soon as possible, because apparently she likes the water. The sport gives me so much. A lot of non-athletes probably can't imagine why you would jump into the cold water at 7, 7:30 in the morning and then again in the evening and basically be on your feet all day long. Just so you end up lying flat all weekend long thinking: "Oh my god - everything hurts." But it's such a great feeling to stand on the block at a competition and you turn your head right, you turn your head left and you think: "Now I'm gonna smash it!" It's an incredible feeling to succeed and achieve the goals you have been working for for months. Cause sometimes it's months of training put in one to four minutes. Or frankly: Four years of work for one stupid moment at the Games! But everyone who does this sport just knows what I'm talking about. It's like an addiction and you just can't stop. I think it's normal for an athlete to have moments where you lie on your bed or couch staring at the ceiling, thinking: "What am I doing here!" But these moments are rare. And once they are there, they are also gone fast. It happens to me, too, that I come back home in the evening looking at the clock, thinking: "You have to be back in the pool in 12 hours. Everything hurts. You feel every muscle in your body and you could just cry." And then you go to bed and just get back up the next day! And you think: "What?! How does this work!" But, I don't know. It never even crosses my mind to just stop or to give up. No, I just think: "You decided to do this, so let's go!" It's a nice feeling to just look at the block and to just swim and see who's the best regardless of whether you are able to see or not At this moment, when I jump into the water I don't care if I'll see the turn or not. I just give everything I got and if I win that's great. At this moment everyone is on the same level to me.