As a sport psychologist, I felt fortunate to have been able to watch some of the greatest athletes on the planet through eyes and ears attuned to things spoken and unspoken. Olympians, a rare subset of we mere mortals, often have only one precious opportunity to
speak to the world through their performance. A performance which may in some cases take only seconds. But also a performance that in most cases has been finely honed over years, sometimes a decade or more. Many performances were breathtaking, awe inspiring, and some were quite simply beyond belief. But what struck me most were the
stories and remembering that these amazing people suffer real losses, endure real suffering, and in this Olympics lost one of their own. I was reminded anew that triumph and tragedy are siblings and have shared the stage of human endeavor throughout the ages. This particular Olympic "script" began with a death...a death out of turn. Olympians are not supposed to die after all, let alone die in their element. We took a long, collective gasp. We grieved...and we each recommitted to getting up, regrouping and finding meaning in the search for excellence and the reassurance of hope. As a Canadian, I felt an almost spiritual connection to my roots, having lived in the U.S. for 17 years. It wasn't pride. It was that indefinable thing that resonates in our souls, that feels more real than anything intellectual or even emotional. It's that place that ultimately connects us all, as human beings sharing the planet in a most precarious age. This Olympics had every element of the human condition played out, yet at the end of the day, what I will remember is that it is not about the medal count. It never was. It is about rising again, in the face of adversity, to compete and to connect with that thing that is bigger than all of us together but that connects us all at the same time.
