It’s good that life is not like the Olympics

Jean Matua “From the Heart”

Even as many of us hold our collective breaths hoping that an invasion of Ukraine does not happen (perhaps I’ll write more about that next week), we have the daily (and nightly) diversion of the 2022 Olympics in China.

Imagine for a moment if our every-day tasks were like the Olympics. Perhaps some of you reading this would revel in the scrutiny, the judgment of every step and movement, and the blow-by-blow never-ending commentary. I certainly would not.

Who even thinks up some of these events? I can understand the historic significance of the winter biathlon, for instance: cross-country skiing, stopping to shoot your dinner, then continuing on your journey. It’s a variation of going from Point A to Point B that we do every day but usually not on skis, and without the shooting.

Ski-jumping is an old sport. Heck, my mother used to compete in ski-jumping when she was in high school. But now they add the air acrobatics to it, seeking greater speed, height, and fancy moves.

Down-hill skiing can be normal activity in hilly areas. It can be recreational fun for those who love the fresh air and the swoosh as they glide down the hill. But who thought up moguls? Instead of a smooth glide, the body bounces violently from bump to bump while zigzagging down a steep hill. A machine could barely be designed to withstand such constant shocks, and yet human beings willingly subject themselves to that torture.

Speed-skating probably served a purpose at one time, that Point A to Point B journey again. But now they move at up to 40 mph around that ice oval, with razor-sharp blades strapped to their feet risking both their lives and anyone around them.

Luge? Hurtling down an icy, winding track at speeds higher than 80 mph, with your head and body hanging off a sled that’s half your size, and only a flimsy helmet to protect you. Or skeleton: doing it all head-first?

You can see what I’m getting at?

The competitive team sports like hockey and curling take on more intensity at the Olympic level. But they are otherwise common and usual sporting events.

Even something lovely like ice skating takes on a harsh competitive tone thanks to the never-ending commentary by experts, and the constant on-screen judgment. Remember the days when a skater (or gymnast) would perform their routine, then wait for judges to hold up numbers, hoping for 10s but very rarely seeing 10s? Now, there’s a running tally on the screen, changing with each move, and comparing with the current leader in that event. No doubt, this is not visible to the person performing, but who would willingly live with that constant judgment? (Again, not me.)

“Oh, there was a little wobble on her landing there; she’s out of the competition.” “Whoop, there goes another deduction on his score.” “She was so much better four years ago.” “What a shame he didn’t bring his A game today.” Who needs that in real life?

I love to watch the heights and lengths that thoroughly devoted individuals can take the human body. It can be graceful and artistic, and it often defies the laws and confines of Planet Earth. I watch and appreciate the life-time commitment these athletes make to their sports, and how every four years they share their talents for the world to come together in peace, and to watch with a common heart.

But the end-all, be-all nature of the competition is painful to watch. One little wobble, one tiny fraction of a second late on a launch or landing, someone else falling in front of you … all result in “failure” when it’s all or nothing.

I’m so glad that our every-day activities are not subject to these standards. Imagine loading groceries in your car, navigating icy sidewalks, pulling something down off a high shelf, navigating from the kitchen to the living room with two very full glasses of a favorite beverage, remembering to disconnect your seatbelt before trying to exit your car… all under constant judgment, commentary, and while wearing a form-fitting lycra outfit.

I’ll watch and appreciate the athletes who have committed themselves to these extraordinary feats, no matter how extra-human they appear. And I will continue to give grace to my fellow humans stumbling through real life as we all do; encouraging rather than judging.