for those of us in the back

Here’s yet another post about the Olympics…but I promise, this isn’t another piece raving about Olympic sportsmanship, girl power, or the human spirit’s triumph. Like many of you, I love those tales of unexpected medalists and superhuman athletes who break records and hearts in one breath. But, I also find myself thinking about the ones who came in 4th place, those athletes who leave without a medal and without the glory. I know, because many moons ago, I was one of them at the 1988 Olympics. Since then, it took me decades before I could make sense of my experience and the life-changing impact it has had on me.

Winning a medal can transform you into a national hero, forever stamped with that shining label: “Jane Smith, *GOLD* medalist.” Even if you end up spending the next 40 years as a real estate agent, a street artist, or even on the wrong side of the law, you’ll always be that Olympic gold medalist.

But what if you finished 4th? Especially in a sport where a mere 1/100th of a second makes all the difference. What’s your legacy then? “Jane Smith, who *almost* won a medal”? “Jane Smith, who barely missed it”? In a recent interview of some of these athletes, many describe the feeling of utter devastation. In some countries, like Canada, they even have a bittersweet nickname for it: “the Canadian bronze.” Go Canada.

The truth is, if you take into account all the factors that go into becoming an elite athlete (socioeconomic, national commitment and investment into sports, cultural affinity towards sports, etc.), no one can say with certainty or objectivity that a particular gold medalist deserved it more than others (unless that person is Simone Biles or Katie Ledecky, of course). With all things being equal, who’s to say a 20th place finisher isn’t just as remarkable an athlete as the bronze medalist?

To me, the true Olympian challenge is:

How do you define yourself and your achievements when the world is so eager to do it for you?

How do you own your story, independent of the validation others want to give or withhold?

The greatest privilege of being an Olympian, representing your country on the world stage, is that you get to shape this experience into your very own narrative. You write your own story, one that isn’t dictated by medals or external judgment.

I remember meeting a shy girl in the locker room at the Olympic swimming pool during one of my warm-ups. She was representing Vietnam, wearing a swim cap that looked like something my grandma would wear, with neon flowers all over it. Her swimsuit had a matching floral print with a little skirt. She told me it was her first swim meet—ever. I often wonder what happened to her. In my daydreams, she’s now a human rights lawyer who founded an AI company to help refugees fleeing Myanmar. All thanks to her life-changing experience in Seoul in 1988.

So, what I took away wasn’t just about “no pain, no gain” or “practice makes perfect” ethos that many associate with competitive sports. It was a lesson that took me years to understand: In a world obsessed with external validation, the most important compass in our careers, relationships, and life is the story we create for ourselves.

So, when I watch the Olympics, my eyes aren’t just on the medalists. I’m looking for the athletes who finish in the back, the ones the cameras quickly pan away from. I feel a surge of hope and excitement for them, wondering what they’ll do with this experience. How will they make this part of their story? The possibilities are endless. Oh, the places they’ll go!

For my Dream Box:

🏊‍♀️ The Non-Speedo Option: Sometimes, just-good-enough is all you need, especially when it comes to a practical swim suit. This is far from glam or fancy but it’s super comfy and forgiving on your body (esp in black). I use this for when I take my son for aqua therapy in our local pool. Not something I would wear in Spain in my in-law’s swanky infinity pool or at their hip beach, but good enough for our local community pool!

🩴 Jellys are Back: I could be either super late to this (retro) trend or inexplicably fashion forward. All I know is that I feel like I’m channeling Anna Wintour when I wear these with my cutoff, baggy Bermuda shorts. My 12-year old daughter vehemently disagrees with me. Whatever.

🧴Magic in a Bottle: My mom and I were recently in Chamonix, France (I ran a race up Mont Blanc!). And, when in France…one must visit their marvelous pharmacies with amazing skin care products you never knew you needed. I don’t really know how to describe this, except that it’s a bottle of botanical oils for your skin and hair that smells like...je ne sais quoi. I don’t even care if it has any benefits. Just how it feels and smells on my face is enough for me.

🦙 Cashmere Poncho: I’m spending a lot of time in freezing public spaces this summer (airports/airplanes, hospitals, etc.). But I don’t want to necessarily carry around a bulky sweater or sweatshirt. I’ve been loving this lightweight, but warm poncho sweater. My former crazy, evil boss gave it to me many years ago, but that doesn’t stop me from wearing it to keep me warm in the summer.

☠️ St. Paul & The Broken Bones: I don’t have the best taste in music, nor am I that kind of person who “discovers” cool music at a random bar. But, I somehow know people that do. My son’s speech therapist is one of them and she introduced me to these guys. I’m still trying to articulate why I like this Alabama-based soul/funk band. Maybe it’s the trombone. Maybe because it sounds like a mix between Van Morrison and the Commitments. Maybe because I was mesmerized by the lead singer belching it out on NPR’s Tiny Desk Concert.