Senior Olympics

On April 2, I participated in the New Orleans Senior Olympic Games Track and Field events.  The volunteers put on a really nice event.  This was my first time, so I wasn't exactly sure what to expect.

I won the gold medal in the 800 meter and 1500 meter racewalk events.  I did well for my abilities and training, with a 5:01 800, and a 9:31 1500, so I was pleased with my performance.

What was disappointing was that I was the only woman in the events.

I know racewalking is kind of a strange sport, but only one participant for an area with over a million people was sad.  And I only saw two other women participants in all the events.

When I go to road races in New Orleans, there is always a good number of women, and even a good number of women who would qualify for the senior games.  I wonder why they don't?

And maybe just Track and Field events are lightly attended, and the other sports get better turn out.

I always thought that the Senior Olympics drew big crowds, and I was kind of embarrassed to go, thinking I would be so far behind the other participants that everyone would know I didn't belong.

And there goes that perception versus reality thing again.  Until you go and actually experience something, you have no idea what you will find.

The more times I try something new that intimidates me, the more I realize that the world is less scary in reality than it often is in my mind.

Those lingering doubts about my physical abilities have stayed with me from my youth.  I was the kid that stunk at physical education.  I did good at the calisthenics, but short races and coordination sports were not good for me.  I usually got picked last.  After all the years of running and racewalking competitively, and doing well in my age groups, you would think the intimidation factor would have gone down.

It hasn't.  And even when I do well, like I did yesterday, I have a hard time feeling good about my performance, because there is no comparative analysis.  My inside snarky voice says things like, "First Place because none of the good walkers showed up," and "You only won by default".  And no matter how hard I try to shut that voice up, I never quite succeed.

I can write for all of you to stop comparing yourself to others.  I can go on and on about how being the best you is all that is important.  I can get very passionate about how we are all given a unique set of gifts, and that your gifts are every bit as important as anyone else's.

On the inside though, I still struggle with self-acceptance, and with self-praise, as I imagine many of you do.  It is always easier to be someone else's cheering section than it is to be our own.

If there were self-doubt Olympics, I'll bet the competition for the Gold Medal would be ferocious.  There would be intense competition, as we bared our insecurities and weaknesses to show who found themselves most unworthy.

And isn't that just crazy?  I am going to try to use my experience at the Senior Olympics to remind myself to not ever be afraid to try.

I may fail, but there is no shame in failing when you try.

There was a 92 year old man at the Senior Olympics yesterday.  He will be 93 this month.  He won his age group in all his events.  I said to someone, "At 92, just being here and competing is winning," and I meant it.

My next goal in life is to really accept and embrace that whatever your age, just being out there and competing is winning.  No matter what stage you are in, or what stage you are on.

Life is a participation sport, not a competition sport.  Grab life with both hands, live it wide open, and experience all the joy you can.

Because very few of us will live on in record books, so the more memories we create with others, the more we share ourselves and our joy, the closer we get to living forever.

And the greater the chance will be that when we are remembered, it will be a memory accompanied by a smile.