"Citius, Altius, Fortius." It means: Faster, Higher, Stronger. It's been the motto for the Olympics for the last 2500 years. But it doesn't mean faster, higher and stronger than who you're competing against. Just faster, higher, stronger.
This summer, Rio will be the spot of the 2016 Olympic Games where athletes from around the world will compete to see who is the best in any given event whether it be running, swimming, archery, rowing, gymnastics, volleyball, etc. But even though the Olympics have always been a competition between athletes, there is always something more innate about the experience, something internal. The athletes who compete in the games have not just overcome their competitors but have overcome pain and difficulty, have overcome mental obstacles telling them that it's not possible. Competing in the Olympics is just as much a personal experience as it is a national one since each athlete represents his country.
"Faster. Higher. Stronger." In this motto, there is no mention of a specific competitor. That is left up to the interpreter. The motto could be talking about the competition to one's left or could be talking about overcoming the pain in one's muscles or the voices in one's head, always willing oneself to push just a little farther. Each athlete is fighting his own battle in the Games, and his goal is to simply to do even more than he could ever imagine. It would be like running a race and being so far in the lead that you can't see the competition next to you -- even though you can't see them, you don't slow down, you keep pushing yourself to go faster. Why? Because you can.
Maybe that's the reason I always enjoyed watching the Olympics when I was younger, and maybe that's the reason I still do. I enjoy watching the endurance each and every athlete displays. The discipline. The love of the sport. The willingness to give everything they have. To go that extra mile and then some. To lay every dream they have ever had out on the field, court, track, stage, floor, whatever it may be, in order to accomplish something so incredible.
There was never any possibility that I could be an Olympic athlete. I wasn't gifted at any sport, I never excelled above the rest.
But I did have two sports that I loved. I gave hours to swimming and running and put sweat and sometimes tears into the repeats and sprints. I traveled hours in cars and buses to practices and meets with my parents and my teams. Pulled muscles, soaked in ice baths and buckets, stretched and warmed up and read up on athletes to admire and words of wisdom to follow. My teams felt like family and my coaches were some of the best people I have known. I learned how to push myself and how to be inspired. I gave so much of myself because at the end of the night, it made me happy. I was proud. I felt strong.
Over the last few years, I haven't run as much, and it's been quite a few years since I've been on a swim team and, to be honest, I miss both more than I can really understand. But I'm out of shape, and I'm not the energetic little 12-year-old I once was who was able to keep running for ages. That's OK. I'm working to get back to a healthy place in my life, but while I'm getting there, the Olympics give me a chance to be inspired once again. I'm looking forward to tuning in to see the dedication. The hard work. The pain and the glory. The willingness to work for something you love.
And one day, I hope to be back out running more like I used to, with the Olympic motto running through my mind reminding me that I don't have to worry about anyone else; I don't have to compete against anyone else. I just have to push a little farther -- and run a little faster so I can feel a little higher and be a little stronger.
