There’s not a lot new that can be said about this summer’s magnificent Olympic Games in London. But I’ll say one thing–no one can watch Missy, or Michael, or Gabrielle, or Bolt and resist the urge to MOVE. Move their bodies, break a sweat.
Evidence for this fact flowed past me this weekend as I attempted to run at least a mile longer than my normal course. As I ran along PCH, the number of fellow joggers as well as cyclists and walkers was high–higher than normal, in my view.
More than two billion people watched the Olympics this past weekend, according to the Guardian. My guess is that at least one quarter of that audience exerted itself just a little bit more than normal after turning off the TV or closing their ipad. Who could not want to capture just a drop of the profound pleasure that comes from making our own heart pound harder, to go faster and farther than we had the last time?
I ran a mile longer. As I ran, my thoughts were upon all of those people in London who for years have dedicated most of their waking hours to getting better, faster, stronger. And I realized, there is no better argument for annual Olympic Games than if only to inspire or shame us to get off our butts and work our bodies. Those U.S. Olympic champions belong to even those of us who breathe hard after climbing the stairs, not just the lean, workout-obsessed colleague we might envy. They do not represent athletic America–they represent all of America. And as our representatives, they should expect us to run the race right along with them.
