Please indulge me as I get off the broadband infrastructure train for just a minute to share some thoughts as the Tokyo Olympics come to a close. Every four (or in this hopefully rare case, five) years, we see the joy of victory, the agony of defeat and find ourselves glued to watching sports that we didn’t even know existed like race walking (those judges have a tough job as they monitor every step to ensure that one foot is making contact with the ground at all times. Just thinking about that would make me add a hop into my step).
While it is a thrill watching premier athletes compete, it has also been encouraging to see the vulnerable side of athletes as well to remind us that they are human, and just maybe, we can give ourselves a little break when we don’t perform daily at our peak level. I have shared before that my mother was an Olympic athlete in track and field for the then DDR, or East Germany. This state existed from 1949 until 1990 when the eastern portion of Germany was part of the Eastern Bloc during the Cold War. Her training and competing had little joy and she had virtually no say in participating given that she was pulled from her home at a young age to train with other athletes. The perks afforded to her were bumping her family further up on the communist list for a telephone or a car replacement but little else. While she always took great joy as an American citizen that there was personal choice in nearly all we do, so long as it does not hurt others, I think she must have secretly been disappointed when I didn’t show the inclination to continue my own track and field career into college. But, honestly, most of the talent did not pass down through her genes. I was more inclined to hide behind the track shed when it came time to do anything over 100 meters!
Other than personal musings, I love the stories of humanity that come through during these ritual celebrations of supreme athletes beyond the medal stands, and often find myself a tad weepy witnessing them.
If you haven’t watched the clip of the two men high jumpers – one from Qatar and one from Italy – who were stalemated when their 7.8 foot jumps resulted in a tie and were faced with a “jump off,” one of the athletes asked the officials, “Can we have two gold medals?” The following celebration was pure joy. What’s better than winning gold in Tokyo? Having the opportunity to share the win with a friend and longtime fellow competitor. My heart warmed seeing these athletes share the joy of victory with one another. Or there were the two runners – one from the United States and the other from Botswana – in the 800 meter semifinals (a brutal distance I might add, because it's too long for a sprint and too short for a jog), who tumbled over each other on the track and helped each other up and finished the race together. The Olympic Games help to remind me that the world is small and that even small acts of kindness can sometimes do more on the international front than formal diplomacy.
Sometimes we need this welcome break from the stress of the world. Maybe we can get the Olympic Committee to consider a two-year rotation instead of four as a public service for us all.