The Olympics, that time, once every four years, when summer extends beyond the normal three months and for two weeks, we all believe in the impossible.
We’ve watched Michael Phelps win 28 medals…more than some countries (ever). We’ve seen Usain Bolt crowned the fastest man alive…though I’ve yet to see him race Barry Allen. We’ve seen the women’s gymnastics team dominate the podium and the swim team win more medals in one week than most other countries participating this summer at Rio de Janeiro. And there’s still another week.
How much more can we endure? Couch warriors, remote duelists, junk food aficionados…
The Olympics challenge us to do things.
Who wants to go outside? (Pokemon Go players?) Who wants to exercise? There’s video games to play, movies to watch, and athletes to cheer.
We’ve come so far, but there is still more to do (cheer louder?).
The best part of the Olympic Games isn’t winning the medal count [USA! USA!]; it’s showing what we can do when we strive for our dreams. Or something. My dreams usually involve running from dragons or sleeping with giants. (Not sure what those are supposed to mean.)