The 2016 Rio Olympic games are now history. I loved them. Vicariously I was on the platform, in the water, on the beach, on the track, and even on the golf course. My Walter Mitty self was immersed in all of the great glories that were displayed in the games. They were, in effect, an elaborate display of the human potential the pursuit of which is my principal life errand.
There were so many high points and even a few low ones that ferreting out the top performances is difficult. I would nominate the goal scored by Neymar on the fifth penalty kick in overtime in the gold medal soccer championship gloriously won by Brazil over Germany as tops. I still can hear the wild cheers reverberating all the way from Rio out my window. It was a moment to savor for the rest of history.
Being a current witness to these goings on conjured up hosts of memories. My first personal Olympics was at Squaw Valley at the Winter Games in 1960. At that time I was a resident in internal medicine at UCSF. We had four little kids ages one, two, five, and six. We were absorbed by the possibility of driving three hours to Squaw Valley to witness the closing ceremonies. We were in no way daunted by the effort, and before we knew it we six were chillingly cheering on the closing ski jump competition. It was a bitter cold day, but I recall no complaints from any of us. The closing ceremonies were staged by Walt Disney with his array of trumpets and release of thousands of pigeons that rose from the floor of the Valley to the high mountains. The Disney flourishes were tear producing.
These Olympics were important historically in that they were the first use of instant replay in some of the tight contests. They were also historic as metal skis were introduced.
As a family we were so taken by the extravaganza that we embarked on a new adventure of skiing as a family. It rewarded us immensely because two years hence we were to go to Munich for a glorious year in a biochemistry lab which provided ample opportunity for Alpine skiing. We celebrated that Christmas in Zermatt, and returned many subsequent times to ski in St. Moritz.
My next Olympic immersion was in 1980 in Sydney at the Summer Games. We were guests of Chuck Feeney and his crew. We were greatly blessed by the presence of Ron Clarke, the great middle distance runner for Australia. He carried the flag for them in an earlier Olympics. He was our personal guide. Those Olympics were two weeks of constant fun. The Australians know how to party. The greatest revelry was on the train to and from the game sites. I recall Cathy Freeman, an Australian aborigine, being the darling of those games. We also witnessed Serena and Venus Williams demolish their competition. The Sydney Olympics were simply fabulous.
With my immersion in the running world I am always focused on the marathon. In Rio it was won by Eliud Kipchoge from Kenya. Importantly the medal award ceremony was included in the closing festivities. The running of the marathon is of course a ritual reenactment of Pheidipidies run to inform the Athenian population that their army had just defeated the Persians, and thereby enabled the blossoming of the Greek world to which we all owe so much.
Annually there is a Greek marathon which starts near where the famous battle took place in 490 BC. It ends in the Athens Olympic Stadium. In 1985 two couple friends of ours, Ruthanne and I ran from Marathon to Athens. I recall that it was a very troubled experience for me because I am so slow, so slow that they opened the course later in the day to traffic. Huge oil trucks spewed their fumes. I recall trying to dodge them late in the day. I was not a good sport, but eventually the Colosseum appeared and all despair was cast aside. We were all rewarded the ceremonial laurel head wreath to celebrate our accomplishments.
I am firm in my conclusion that movement and health are closely linked. Thereby I revel in the Rio Olympics, those at Squaw Valley, those in Sydney, and those at Athens. They are monuments to our human potential.