Why I Watch the Olympics

My husband and boys were not very interested in watching the Olympics this year. They don't get my obssession with watching the games. They sat and watched a few events, like Phelps racing Lochte or a few gymnastics events, but by and large, they didn't pay too much attention to the whole Olympic thing.

I, on the other hand, LOVE watching the Olympics.  At least I used to, before NBC's crappy coverage this year.  Back in the day they used to show as many of the sports as possible.  Now they only show the few they think will give them the best ratings.  Which is sad.  Because we miss out on some really compelling and moving stories and competitions from lesser known sports and athletes.  I get that shooting and fencing might not make for the most interesting TV, but the athletes have unique and inspiring stories and their struggle for gold is no less real or difficult than the athletes who play basketball or swim.  I'm just saying, it would be nice to get a greater cross section of coverage for the games that showcase the best of the best.  Okay...enough of my rant.  I actually have a point to be made here.

Part of the draw of the Olympics, for me anyway, is the chance to see people who have overcome the odds just to participate in the games.  For them, win or lose, it's all about the journey.  I am always so impressed and amazed by people who have the discipline and determination needed to push themselves beyond the challenges and obstacles that might keep them from becoming world class athletes.  I think I admire them because I struggle with those characteristics.  Discipline does not come naturally for me.  So I love watching athletes who have given all they have, both physically and mentally, for a shot at being the best in their field. 

 

It gives me hope I suppose, to see Kieran Behan,  the gymnast from Ireland, the guy who was told he would never walk again, step onto the mat and do an amazing floor routine.  Did he win a medal?  Nope.  Not even close.  But he won my heart.  Because he proved that the human spirit is always stronger than we think. 

Kieran Behan - Photo credit: Ian Walton/Getty

 

A tumor, broken bones, torn ligaments and a traumatic brain injury threatened not only his athletic career, but his very existence on more than one occasion.  You can read more details about him here and here.  Somehow Kieran pushed through the pain and obstacles and in 2011, his perseverance finally paid off.  He won three World Cup medals, becoming Ireland's first World Cup gold medalist in the floor exercise.  Then he won a spot in the Olympics.   And he did all this with no sponsors!  There were no corporate conglomerates like Guiness or some sports drink to back him.  His mom and dad held bake sales and fundraisers and he worked to earn the money he needed to compete and travel.  All of this sacrifice and effort...because the boy who saw his first Olympics when he was maybe 6 years old wanted to be an Olympic gymanst himself.  In my eyes, he was a winner before he ever stepped into the Olympic Stadium. And I wish I had his courage.        

Stories like this are why I look forward to the Olympics.  I wanna hear about the kid from nowhere who bursts onto the scene and makes a name for herself.  Or the 71 year old Japanese equestrian who competed in dressage this year.  I get caught up in the drama as the competition unfolds and I have to decide whether to root for the underdog or the defending champion.

But my enthusiasm for the games is also emotional and sometimes brings on a bout of depression.  Because I want to me more like the Olympians I watch.   I want to be better about developing characteristics that propel me forward in life, rather than wallowing in the emotional baggage that keeps me trapped. I want to be better at facing and overcoming challenge and adversity.  I want to believe in myself to the point that I am willing to push beyond my preconcieved notions of my own capabilities.

This year as I sat and watched the gymnast from Ireland, I wondered out loud what has to happen in my life to motivate me enough to set some clearly defined goals and pursue them with Olympian style passion?  Why is there nothing in me that screams so loud that it forces me off of the couch and out of the house toward the successful completeion of something great?  Where is that drive?

I am 48 years old and the mother of 2 boys who rely on me to instill in them the qualities and characteristics they will need to be happy, successful, functional adults.  I want them to have the kind of determination and discipline required to overcome setbacks and succeed in life.  How can I teach them what I don't have?

 

So I decided to have my own closing ceremony this year when the Olympics ended.  I want to close the door on my past.  I wanna quit wondering and analyzing how I got so screwed up and walk away from my insecurities and self doubt.   I want to find my path and walk it, regardless of the challenges that are presented along the way.  So I wrote down a list of things I want to work on for the rest of the year.  Then I created an Olympic torch that looked a lot like my backyard BBQ, ran a really lame lap around my tiny backyard and then dropped some little pieces of paper with fears and doubts written on them into the fire and watched them burn.  Then I cried.  A lot.  I don't know why.  I wish Kieran Behan was here so I could ask him what to do next. 

Props to My Pops

Okay, I know my posts haven't been all light-hearted and funny lately, don't mean to be a downer, just in a pensive mood I guess. Bear with me, after this Father's Day thing I'll lighten up. I feel like I need to do this, for my dads and for me. Probably more info than any of you need to know, so I won't be offended if you give up reading. It's a long post full of my ramblings. Blame it on the hormones and my 44th birthday (today), I guess.

Anyway...
I am one of those lucky kids that has 2 dads. Not lucky because of the divorce, but lucky because I have 2 dads that have offered me different kinds of support, both in very unique ways. Okay, what I am really saying is that this is my attempt to be positive about the situation I grew up in and honor my dads...roll with it, would ya?

My step-dad, John, is a unique person. He is the KING of Sarcasm. He is the kind of guy who can make a remark about you that is so cutting, yet at the same time so hysterically funny that you have to laugh, even though it's about you. He has nicknames for everybody... sometimes not very nice names, but funny nonetheless. He calls my kids Little Man and Big-Un. He's hard to get to know if you are related to him, he's kind of closed emotionally.

But growing up with him was an adventure. He liked to take us out and teach us how to target practice, so we learned how to use a gun. He used to take us out to these great places in New Mexico...old cemeteries and homesteads, where we would collect pottery and old bottles. He would heat up cans of Beenie Weenies in his truck engine while were driving so we always had lunch when we were exploring. When Pong and Atari came out he would challenge us to games and bet us $25 a game. I won like $100 one day. I lost half of it the next. He gave my sister and I $20 once (we were like 10 and 12 yrs old!) to go to Circle K to buy candy! Helloooo!!! Booyah!! What dad does that?! For a kid, even though he was hard to bond with, he could be a really fun person to hang out with.

He worked hard too. He trained Thoroughbred race horses, which is where I learned what I know about horses. He and his dad and my mom have quite a reputation in the business. I traveled the country for awhile grooming thoroughbreds at different tracks. I could get a job with anyone when I told them who my grandpa and step-dad are. I have him and my mom both to thank for those skills and love of horses.

He quit the track when he was 50ish, which is hard when it's all you've done your whole life. The racetrack is its own little world. It's hard to go out into the real world and function after living your life in that kind of a bubble. He should have been a coach. He loved football growing up. He has that no-nonsense "git in there and git 'er done" attitude about working out and sports. When he quit, he went and started a whole new career. At 50ish! He had to pass a physical and take numerous tests and he passed! The man hadn't been to school in 30 plus years, and with nothing but a high school diploma and the brains God gave him goes and starts a new career! I saw a strength of character in him then that I have come to admire and appreciate.

He's a wonderful story teller, hysterically mesmerizing with off the wall comments and experiences that no one can ever begin to match. It's like the old Dean Witter commercials...when John talks, everybody stops to listen. Because you know it will be one of the most unforgettable stories you have ever heard.

He's cynical and wise and funny and gruff...like John Wayne. And TOUGH! He got into this fight one time with these 2 young kids. He was like, 40. They popped off to him and called him an old man. "You want some of this, Old Man?" Yeah...big mistake. They ended up fighting in a mud puddle. The 2nd kid figured out pretty fast that he was outmatched and stood by his car, watching the whole thing. When it was over, Step-dad had one kid by the nostrils..."Say your sorry to the old man, son." Son apologized, crawled out of the mud, walked to his car with his friend silently staring in disbelief and sped off into the sunset. Great story. True story. Either that or Step-dad fell in the puddle and needed to save face. Not likely though, I've seen him in action.

Watch the movie "The Cowboys." John Wayne in that movie IS my step-dad. Hard to get to know, but worth the effort.

My biological Dad, Wayne, is no longer here. Father's Day without him is hard, because he was truly my number one supporter and my greatest fan. He had his flaws, but none of them mattered to me because he was one of the few adults in my life who accepted me for me and didn't try to make me fit into their idea of who I should be. He wasn't always physically there for me like I wanted him to be. To be fair, now that I am an adult, I can see that it took him a long time to grow up. I can see that some of the issues my mom had with him were real and probably hard to deal with as a spouse. Still doesn't change my love for him. They weren't my issues, I guess.

He was this hilarious practical joker. He hot-wired a girl's car in high school so that when she tried to start the car it shocked her. He trapped his friend in the outhouse at work (construction site - he was like 45 at the time) by parking his truck against the door. Fun stuff. Anyway, you get the idea. He tried to enjoy his life. He was an avid outdoorsman, truly missed his calling. He should have been Park Ranger. He knew every inch of Arizona. He built the roads through half of the state. He was a great camp cook, he could make coffee in a paper bag on a campfire. He was a hard worker. He was a great boss. He was always helping someone.

He was great with people. People loved my Dad. He gave love freely, with no attachments. Even his ex-wives have great things to say about him (along with some not great things, but those are few). He rarely lost his temper. He accepted everyone where they were at, no judgement. For all of his flaws, he was a great dad. He encouraged me, he loved me, he accepted me and he apologized to me for not taking the time to be in my life like he should have been. And that spoke volumes to me about his true character, despite his flaws. When he finally realized he had messed up in certain areas with me, he took the time to try to rectify it.

He called me his diamond in the rough. To this day I can't understand what he saw in me that made him think I could do great things. But he never missed an opportunity to let me know that he knew I could achieve great things. Maybe one day I will. He left us before he knew his grandkids. That kills me. Because he would have been a fantastic Grandpa.

Two different men, two different personalities, both offered me things I hope to carry with me and use the rest of my life. For their love and support, their humor and examples, I thank them both. Happy Father's Day.

Wanna share your Dad stories? I would love to hear them!