On What is Obvious Tonight

Watching the Olympics is quite time consuming, and if I were completely honest, a wee bit emotional.

The last time that I watched the Olympics like this was 1996. With high school completed and college looming on the horizon, I had naught else to do but watch the Olympics. On August 1, 1996, I wrote the following in my journal:

"I should have been a rhythmic gymnast. That much is obvious tonight."

Clearly, I was reflective and pensive in the way that only an bored eighteen year old can be in the summer before college.

Tonight I sit here with my son pressed up against me in bed watching the Olympics. He is fighting sleep and would rather watch SpongeBob SquarePants. Michael Phelps is about to swim the 100M Butterfly--everyone expects him to earn his seventh gold of these games--tying Spitz's record from 1972. He just won by 1/100th of a second.

Twelve years ago watching the Olympics revealed the "obvious" notion that I should have been a rhythmic gymnast. I clearly didn't understand what the word obvious meant. I was also a girl completely self-absorbed with myself. I saw rhythmic gymnastics and only saw the rhythmic gymnastics.

Tonight I see beyond the pool, the uneven bars, and the track. With this little boy sleeping next to me, sharing my blanket, I finally do see the obvious. The emotional reactions of the athletes and their parents tell the story. It is about the athlete's courage to chase the impossible and the family's courage to believe that their loved one can catch the impossible.

And I can have the courage to believe in my son. That much is obvious tonight.