"Will I Remember This?"
My petition for an Olympic civilian lane, how playing it safe makes life forgettable, and what would you be doing instead of trying what it is you're trying?
The Olympics have just wrapped up and I watched about none of it.* For one, I don’t think I have the requisite TV channels in my current (temporary) living situation, and for two, I’m engaged over here in my own Olympic quests of writing and pickleballing. If I’m going to write all the things I need to write and be able to play pickleball in the 2028 Summer Olympics, I’ve got my work cut out for me.
Basically, I don’t want to miss out like I missed out on the 2002 Olympics…
All right, there’s no chance of Olympic pickleball for me, but I fully expect to see pickleball enter the games soon, for others to compete in. In my estimation, it’s only a matter of time. If less-known sports like curling, canoe slalom, and ski mountaineering can be in the Olympics, pickleball should be a shoo-in given its soaring participation, popularity, and viewership.
My one-second take on ski mountaineering: first you run, on skis. As if running wasn’t hard enough. Then, when the hill gets too steep for the skis, you take them off and run in ski boots—everyone’s dream. Then you do impressive downhill ski things. These people have something inside them I just don’t.
My Olympic proposal:
Speaking of Olympics, there’s something I’ve been advocating for for years. And that is a civilian lane. We commoners can start to think whatever they’re doing looks really easy. When you see a swimmer lagging several lengths behind the leaders, you can start to think “Come on, who let this one in? They barely know how to swim.”
Here’s my proposal: Each solo event reserves a lane (or a canoe or set of skis) for one lucky spectator. Twenty minutes before the event, the announcer selects a seat number at random. “Would the person in Row 74, Seat 3 please report to the staging area?”
And then this lucky participant gets a crash course in what they’re about to do, the appropriate uniform, some Godspeed and goes out to give it their very best. I think we’d all have newfound appreciation for what these athletes can do when we are able to compare them to the ordinary us-es.
Another less hypothetical thought around the Olympics:
22 years ago, I had the chance to volunteer at the 2002 Winter Olympics held in Salt Lake City. My university gave us an unusual week or two off and offered to make accommodations for any student who wanted to volunteer. Guess who didn’t? Me.
I was probably hesitant to try because of all the unknowns involved, and also I probably didn’t appreciate what a cool opportunity it was. There was, I’m sure justification: “I could really use the time to get caught up on homework” or “This will be a nice break to recharge” or “What would I actually be able to do at the Olympics?” So I didn’t even try. And here’s the kicker—I don’t remember a single thing about those weeks. What I did with those days is 100% forgotten. They fell in the sofa cushions of life like all days passed without intention have a way of doing.
I can’t even remember what I did with those days instead. They fell in the sofa cushions of life like all days that pass without intention have a way of doing.
I wish someone would have told me to seize the opportunity, to at least try to volunteer, but would I have even listened? Who can say. Hopefully I’m learning to be more intentional and create/make more of the opportunities of my life.
People making their own Olympic opportunities:
There are a couple people who inspire me, especially when it comes to Olympic opportunities. They’ve gone for their own version of gold and found ways to be involved in the Olympics simply because they wanted to.
Exhibit A: A business friend (Today with Tamara—she’s the one behind the neon pink sweatshirt I wear often) loves athletics. And has found a way to participate in the Olympics via freelance marketing work, and has spent the past month in Paris working with a brand at the Olympics.
Exhibit B: A brother of an acquaintance decided to start training to be an Olympic bobsled—or was it luge or skeleton?—athlete—in his 40s. He even moved to Switzerland, I think it was, for training. Because this is a distant acquaintance, we can’t know his reasons, but I suspect he wanted to do more with his life than amass piles of wealth with his illustrious job. He doesn’t have the family he thought he would, so decided to pursue an outlandish dream. One of this Olympic years he and we may find it wasn’t so outlandish after all.
“Will I remember this?”
Whether you’re working toward the Olympics or being peripherally involved with them or something totally different, an insightful question comes from this oldie clip of Jerry Seinfeld apparently giving advice to another comedian who feels like he’s running out of time to make his dream fly:
“What would you be doing instead?”
One way to assess the caliber of our pursuits might be to ask, “Will I remember this?” There’s so much to be said for contented, simple living. For ordinary days and small joys, for hard work, for private excellence. I’m not advocating we chase stuff or exhaust ourselves trying to be what every voice says we should be. It’s just that talking ourselves out of potentially worthwhile, expansive opportunities because of fear or laziness can lead to squandered living. That we don’t want.
We typically remember what didn’t go perfectly, and we also remember the things we try. What we don’t remember is playing it safe. Like when I played it safe and skipped the 2002 Olympics; I missed out the iconic purple + white winter coat, new friends, a chance to be part of a global event, and who knows what else. I’m missing out on less stuff these days and I’m glad. What do you not want to miss out on?
*It’s a fact that if something really important or interesting happens in the world or country or Olympics, someone who’s more plugged in will tell you about it and then you can catch up on it. I have my ways of staying up on current events, but it’s one area where I’m pretty intentional. Otherwise I’d never have the focus and energy my work and my game require.