even gold gets old

Da-DAA-da-dun-dun-dun-dun-duh-da-dun-da-dun-da-dun-da-dun-duh-de-dun-dun-DUN! And repeat.

In case you don’t recognize it, that’s the olympic theme song. (And yes, you should be slightly embarrassed if you couldn’t.)

Yes, yes, the olympics are here. And since I’m starting this post with such an opening, I know you’re wondering one of two things, so I will address both issues now. No, this post is not going to have any (cheesy) metaphors about going for the gold in the great race of faith blah-blah-blah, etc. And no, neither Stil or myself are related to Shaun White.

I have a love-hate relationship with the Olympics. I get jazzed with the best of them over events I’ve never even heard of like skeleton racing. Skeleton racing? Who the heck made that up? But it exists. And people do it. Unreal.

I love the drama and excitement of it all. I love the opening ceremonies. I love the idea that people from countries all over the world are in one place because they’ve truly mastered something and are going to show of their skillz with the best of them. I love that the competitors are serious athletes and I think they deserve their moment in the spotlight for all the time and effort they’ve put in, even if they don’t win.

But I don’t like the scoring. These people are the best of the best and they’re only separated by nano-seconds on the clock or nano-points on the scoreboard. When that little is between them, can you really say one is better than the other? Ski the mountain the next day and that bronze could be a silver. Land that triple sow cow (seriously? who came up with that name?) and what was tenth place could be a gold. Sleep better, eat more pasta, drink less orange pop, put your lucky button in your left skate instead of your right and everything – everything! – could be different a mere 24 hours later. With the dividing line that small, is the gold podium really that much higher than the silver or bronze?

And what goes hand-in-hand with the scoring is the dashing of so many peoples lives. Not just their dreams but their lives. These athletes stake everything on the hope of a medal that, most likely, they will not win. Their youth, their money and their identity are spent on going after this one single goal. Their determination and dedication is admirable… but is it worth it? Ten, fifteen, twenty years spent training for one thing. Then – they don’t win. And ten, fifteen, twenty years could be spent looking back, wondering if they could have changed it. If they could have been better.

Like I said, I do admire their tenacity and focus and vision. But, when such training is required that it really does become your life, it almost seems like the ‘sport’ of it all disappears and it becomes ‘work.’ Now, work isn’t bad. And I like going to the gym and using an exercise ball just as much as the next puppet does…but eight hours a day? Six days a week? That’s gotta become old – just like anything else.

And I think that’s what I’m realizing in general. Life is pretty mundane. Yes, there are moments of gut-heaving laughter and spontaneous joy. Great things and life-changing events and momentous occasions happen, sure. Getting a promotion and landing your dream job. Starting a family. Winning a gold medal. But then… it’s back to the gym. Or the laundry. Or your thirty minute lunch break. And it gets pretty boring.

I’m not that old yet, but I’m old enough and I’ve seen enough (either in my own life or from movies I’ve netflixed) to know that it doesn’t matter what you do or how much money or power you have. Life gets boring. It doesn’t matter if your name is Apollo or Peekaboo or Stumpy. It doesn’t matter if you’re at the start of the race, just finished it, or watching the whole thing from home eating a big ole’ box of cheez-its. Once the rush is over and the thrill is gone, it’s back to life and life can be really dull. And so can the person who looks at you in the mirror each morning.

Now, I know this is the part where I’m supposed to sum it all up with a tidy paragraph about finding our contentment in God and our joy in the Lord and our hope in eternity. But I really only have the right to say those things as much as I’m convicted by them. And, while I believe them to be true, conviction these days is somewhat low.

So, I’m really not sure how to end. I’m starting to think I know next to nothing about walking in grace. But they say the first step is admitting you have a problem so maybe some lesson lies ahead. I will definitely be watching round two of ice dancing tomorrow. (I’m rooting for the Canadians.) And, if you’re wondering, I can testify to the fact that short track skating is quite the rush. (Stil and I participated in a short track relay derby charity event in 2004 to raise money for the rain forests of Columbia. Who knew there were ice skating fans in Columbia? We were broadcast on two channels – Telemundo Columbia! and Tele Co’bia. Just fyi.)

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