I don’t get it. Yes, there are a lot of things that I don’t get in life, but I don’t get how athletes resort to drugs and cheating just to win a gold medal, fame, millions of dollars, etc. Yes, the three things I just listed would be great for some people … think of the stories one could tell about winning a gold medal *cough* Michael Phelps *cough*. Fifteen minutes of attention and fame might be nice depending on who you ask. And millions of dollars wouldn’t hurt too many people in this world.
But is the medal, fame, and money worth the risk of cheating and abusing your body with drugs? I say no, but apparently, thousands of athletes will probably disagree with me. I’m competitive just as the next person … I want to win in ladderball, Quiddler, Scrabble, Scattergories (although I freely admit that’s not my best board game EVER) … I want to win. Even in a friendly game of kickball, I want to do well … but for me, the best part of playing game is the fun and laughter.
And I understand some athletes’ drive to succeed. They want to be the best. Running (or whatever sport) may be their life. They live, breathe, eat running. I get that. And I admire athletes who work and train hard to succeed. And they do it without drugs or cheating. And for the athletes who use drugs and cheat … I have a question for you … Can you really live guilt-free with money, fame, and the medal, knowing you “enhanced” your performance? Are you that greedy and hungry for fame?
While I’m on the subject … let’s talk about China’s women’s gymnastics team. According to Olympic rules, the competitors have to be 16 or older in order to participate. I believe an investigation has started after officials have received a few complaints, saying the gymnasts weren’t 16. Is winning a gold medal really that important that adults, who really should know better, lie about a child’s age? Whatever happened to, “Yah, we made it to the Olympics, which is quite an accomplishment in itself.”
Yes, if somehow, I managed to get my fat butt to the Olympics, I would work hard to win. More than likely. But if I didn’t win because another athlete worked a bit harder or performed a bit better, then I would gladly (and probably, sadly) accept defeat. Even if I was dead last in the marathon … I would still be like, “Yah! I ran in the Olympics.” Of course, I would be sad that I came in last place, but in my mind, I would look at where I was … and just relish in being the freakin’ Olympics.
And what about the parents of these athletes? I watched the U.S. women’s gymnastics team a bit … I watched Nastia Lutkin and Shawn Johnson going for gold in the women’s all around. One of the commentators quoted Lutkin’s father previously saying that gold is the only color accepted in his household. Really? I understand Lutkin’s father was a gold medal winner decades ago, but isn’t a parent supposed to say, “Win or lose, I will always love you?” or something to that effect.
I think cross country running (and maybe, volleyball) was one of my better sports. I remember my parents attending my meets once they realized how fun the meets were and that I wasn’t half bad at running around in corn fields and on golf courses. Of course, my parents wanted me to do the best that I could, but they also made sure I had a good time running around. I don’t think they put too much pressure on Becky, who was an even better runner than me. They supported and encouraged her.
I do remember this: Krissy and I ran on the junior varsity team at a Princeton meet (not that Princeton). It was a huge race with hundreds of runners (more than we were used to). When the gun sounded, the runners took off in a huge pack, and somehow in the beginning, I got shoved to the ground. I got up and started running again, catching up with Krissy, who was in near tears because she witnessed the incident. I told her that I was fine, and I took off running and finishing the race.
If memory serves me well (which it doesn’t sometimes), I think I placed 29th or somewhere in that area. I was thinking about two things. One, I was very proud of my place because there were a million other runners in that race and to place somewhere in the 20s was awesome to me. Two, would I have placed better if I didn’t get shoved to the ground? I really didn’t think too much about the last thought because it didn’t really matter to me. Placing in the 20s among a billion of runners was good enough for me.
I can’t remember if my parents were at that race … I don’t think they were because the meet was so far away. But I told my dad about the incident, and he realized that making me mad fueled my desire to do well or even win a meet (which I never did). In later races, my dad changed his cheering strategies from “Go, Jenny! Way to go!” to “Jenn, move faster, you lazy no-good daughter of mine!” OK, I’m paraphrasing that last statement. But my dad saw my desire to place well in meets.
Yes, sometimes competing is hard work and it’s not fun. Some people give up. Some people have the drive to succeed. But when it comes to game time, you do the best you can do and accept the outcome whether you win or lose. And shouldn’t that be enough? For me, being able to share my experiences is what I will remember and cherish. Talking about the Princeton race with Krissy and my dad will make my smile and laugh. And to me, that’s what’s important. Winning isn’t everything … and it’s not the only thing.
