Four years ago, I was aware that the Olympics was on but I didn’t watch much of it. I was pleased when we won a few medals. And every now and then I even put myself out to watch an event or two.
This year it was very different. I was glued to the TV set for 16 days, often during the day when I should have been working, and every evening for the round-up and highlights. I’ve blubbed more in the last 16 days than the last 16 years (my defence: having kids turned me into a softie, and seriously, did anyone watch Chris Hoy get that last gold without shedding a tear?)
And I know why. It’s not that I’ve suddenly developed a love of all sports. But after 18 months working hard to get fit, I can now appreciate the hard work and effort that goes in to achieving things that I’d never thought myself capable of. Watching those Olympians on their podiums, I had a slight inkling of what they’d put themselves through. I’m not equating myself to any of them –– if Chris Hoy is the Superman of the sporting world, I’m something a bit less than Danger Mouse. But I’ve trained for marathons, run them, finished them (not even last!), and I remember how emotional a moment that was. Achieving something you’ve been working towards for months, or years, is one of the best feelings there is.
Fitness is a new thing in my life. A good new thing. I’ve always wished I was fit, but now I’m doing something about it. I’m feeling better than I ever have before. And appreciating even a smidgen of the effort those amazing Olympians put into achieving their goals has made me want to work even harder.
What an amazing 2 weeks. I’m missing it already.
