The Unlympics

Tim and I have been avidly watching the games this week. Especially Phelps and Coughlin and Johnson. Pushing aside the lack of sleep and the early mornings ahead we strain to see every detail of men and women racing against each other for recognition, for glory, for self fulfillment. And when we head to bed each night our bodies may be weary but our minds and spirits are exhilarated. For isn't that really why we watch sports, because we are reliving our own bright achievements or imagining what it feels like to be in the midst of someone else's shining moment? We cheer them on because somehow it feels we are cheering ourselves on, that by their struggle and tears and sweat they are helping us to believe we can accomplish great things as well.

As usual in our home, Natalie and Adam get right in the middle of all the goings on. They don't quite understand the meaning of it all but they know it's something big. Today at lunch Natalie asked Tim, "Daddy when are we gonna watch the Unlympics?". The Olympics are what the known, the celebrated, the practiced take part in. But each one of us is a player in our own "Unlympics". We hone our skill as we drive the same route through the same traffic each day. We reiterate our principles as we explain why the answer is No to our child for the 100th time each day. We reinforce our discipline as we kneel to pray over worries instead of seeking a big spend or an expensive meal to assuage our fear.

Every day we do the same thing over and over and over again. Maybe it's not as breathtaking as Michael Phelps dolphin kicks and incredible speed in the pool. Not nearly as exciting as Shaun Johnson's difficult dismount from the uneven bars. But still as vital, still as worthwhile. Our crowd of onlookers is much smaller, our gains not nearly as rapid, our struggle more often within. But each day we crawl out of bed, pick up our dream and keep going. We are competing as well. But our race is lifelong.