Since the Olympics started over a week ago, the continual stream of kids’ shows that normally dominates the television in my house has been replaced by Olympic coverage, much to my seven-year-old brother Jack’s dismay.
And while my family enjoys watching the events, we all share in his bitter feelings to some extent as we watch athletes showcase abilities that seem to correspond better with demigods than human beings. In attempts to increase our self-esteem, we frequently make comments like “I think that level of fitness is almost unhealthy,” or “I could run that fast if I really wanted to.”
This is especially true for myself, as I have never been much good at sports.
All of my physical education classes at school strangely resembled episodes of America’s Funniest Home Videos. And during baseball, I eventually resorted to picking up the base and running around with it instead of trying to tag the runner (their home run doesn’t count if they haven’t touched all the bases).
But as I’ve watched the Olympics this year, I’ve realized that in some ways, my life does parallel that of an Olympic athlete.
First of all, I can relate to the dedication, time, and sacrifice that are all components of an Olympian’s training, as I showcase them in my love for cats.
Since my dad and I both have allergies, the closest I can get to owning one is making friends with the neighbours’ cats.
In addition to sacrificing the comfort of eyes that don’t feel like they’re burning, I’ve taken time out of my days to build my relationships with these cats (which really looks more like me stalking them and pretending that I live there when a car drives by).
I can also relate to Olympic athletes in the elements that surround their performances. The other day I went paddle boarding for the first time with a couple of friends, and any time one of us fell over, I could feel the unspoken mockery emanating from the witnesses on the beach.
In the same way that Olympic athletes feel pressure from their worldwide audience, it often feels like everyone is watching you, waiting for you to trip up the stairs or spill food on your shirt.
Thankfully, chances are that you’re not being filmed on international television and your embarrassing moment is unlikely to turn into a viral YouTube video.
For me, celebratory moments that involve this sort of public pressure and performance are often succeeded by my equivalent of an Olympic medal—a Hershey’s Cookies and Cream chocolate bar.
After I gave my valedictorian speech, my parents presented me with one of these and I accepted it with the same ecstasy with which an Olympic athlete receives a medal.
I realize this makes my life sound incredibly pitiable, and the more I think about it, my comparisons to the life of an Olympian probably just stem from my athletic insecurities. But on the bright side, that means I can fully enjoy chocolate bars without worrying about their effect on my sports activities.
