Corey and I originally plotted to escape Vancouver during the winter Olympics. We'd rent out his apartment to the highest bidder and go to surf school in Costa Rica. Or maybe we'd take a break from our work-packed days and just lie, device free, on a pier somewhere, next to crystal green water.
But Corey's apartment didn't rent and our cat needed ridiculously expensive surgery and a million other things happened to make escaping impossible. So,we decided - we'd just have to brave the crazy traffic and swarming crowds and irritating tourist masses and hole up inside our house with our vats of egg whites and multitudes of leafy greens.
I think we were both shocked at what happened: about how glad we are to be here during this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to witness athletic prowess and raw determination at its highest, grittiest best.
***
This city has exploded. Vancouverites are notorious for their keep-to-themselves vibe. They're friendly but efficiently distant, in general, but this Olympics has somehow morphed them into break-dancing, anthem bellowing, patriotic, fist pumping firecrackers. There is dancing in the streets, Maple Leaf flags hanging out of car windows and from front windows, and strangers high-fiving, making small talk. I stopped at the gas station by my house the other night, the same one I've been to hundreds of times before and the cashier bubbled over:
"Did you see we got gold?" she said, in Hindi accented English,"First gold at home!"
"Yes!" I responded,"So awesome! Did you read the story of his brother, his inspiration?"
She beamed. She had. In hundreds of visits to that gas station over the years, this was the first time she had talked to me, looked at me. That's the Olympics.
***
Corey and I had the insanely awesome opportunity to watch his good friend Stefan race at the cross country ski sprints on Wednesday. Cross country isn't a sport I followed: it isn't even a sport I thought I'd find particularly interesting. But as I sat in the bleachers amidst flags from around the world, I was struck by the raw power and athleticism of the skiers. They were focused, tight, muscular, prepared. Their bodies were like perfectly oiled machines, and we were close enough to see the grit on their faces as they pushed through pain, pushed through agony, to get that skier ahead of them, to meet their personal best.
Though I haven't yet met Stefan, I teared up a bit at the end of his race, watching him push to overtake the athlete in front of him, knowing second-handedly a little bit of how hard he's worked, for so many years, at this one sport. Every athlete in this city has shed blood, sweat and tears in the name of their sport and I think we get emotional over it because we all recognize it. We all respect that furious quest for betterment, even if we don't take it on ourselves.
Modern life is so easy: we in North America don't have to "work" for much anymore. We drive cars rather than expend energy, we buy a package at the grocery store rather than hunt or gather or scour for it. We sit in front of computers and labor at jobs that pay us money that's spent on making our lives even easier.
For me, witnessing an athlete at the highest peak of his sport is like inhaling inspiration: watching someone who has done the impossible, rejected the odds, chose the painful road over the easy one and landed on a dream. It inspires individually and brings countries together. There is a feeling of accomplishment, another rarity in our daily lives: we push paper, we send emails. The inbox is never empty. We never get a gold medal for our awesome powerpoint presentation.
I know there are social issues and Olympic protests and too much corporate sponsorship and all of that. But at the heart of the Olympics is the display of human spirit and determination at its finest. It has the ability to provoke change, resolve, and tears. It makes me want to push my body harder, it makes me want to say hello to my neighbors. It makes me want to hurl down a half pipe, read more about biathlon, skate on an outdoor rink. It makes me want to compete: against myself, Corey, the people at the gym.
I feel immensely lucky to witness all this first hand.
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