Every four years we get to watch the best athletes in the world come together for the Olympics. I am always inspired by their dedication and sacrifice and am amazed at what they are able to make their bodies do (can we even be the same species?). But as I get older, I find myself less focused on who won the gold and more interested in the extraordinary circumstances of what some athletes have to do just to get there. In this post I want to share an example that really struck me this year in teaching me lessons about the value of the journey over the destination and how success is absolutely relative.
The Refugee Olympic Team first competed in 2016 in Rio. In response to the global refugee crisis displacing millions of people, the International Olympic Committee partnered with the United Nations Refugee Agency and sponsored the training and selection of an Olympic Team for those without the benefit and security of a home nation. This year in Tokyo the Refugee Olympic Team marched second behind Greece in the opening ceremony, carrying the Olympic flag. The team consisted of 56 athletes originally from 13 countries including Afghanistan, Cameroon, Democratic Republic of Congo, Eritrea, Ethiopia, Iran, Iraq, Morocco, South Sudan, Sudan, Syria, and Venezuela and competed in 12 different sports.
Each member of the Refugee Team has experienced a type of stress and hardship that few of us can ever imagine. Every athlete has had to flee from war or persecution and lives in exile. Needless to say, their conditions for training and participation in their sport have been most challenging. Their daily lives consist of a constant uncertainty and anxiety about what is happening to both family and country. For most all of these athletes, the reality is that there is little chance they will win a medal. Their victory is in the resilience that was required to compete at all. For example, one athlete, Aker Ai Obaidi, fled from his country of Iran at the age of 14 because of war. He was separated from his family and had to learn a new language and build a new life in Austria, fending for himself and worrying if his parents had survived. His sport of wrestling gave him an identity and a way to find routine and peace. Of his motivation to compete, he is quoted as saying:” I’m trying to give voice to show that refugees are not bad people.” Another Refugee Team member, Yusra Mardini, actually had to use her swimming skills to pull a waterlogged boat with 18 other migrants and refugees from Turkey to Lesbos. She and her sister fled Syria when their house was destroyed in the Syrian Civil War. After surviving the sinking boat, they traveled by foot through Europe to settle in Germany. She says of her inspiration to compete: “Life will move on. Life will not stop for you because you have pain, no. You have to move on.”
What the participation of these Olympians reminds me is that each of us starts from a different place in life. Some of us are less fortunate than others in terms of resources, stability, and support, and yet, all any of us can do is play the hand we are dealt. When you’re raised in an alcoholic home or experience a major loss or illness, these traumatic events do have consequences. And yet, we so often compare ourselves to others and wonder why we haven’t won the gold. We judge ourselves harshly and wonder what’s wrong with us. We seldom allow ourselves the pride of resilience and a fair congratulations for the distance we have indeed come. Each of our journeys are unique and our challenges cannot be compared. As one woman I work with who grew up in a neglectful home put it, “when you start out a half a mile behind, you need to realize how much you’ve accomplished just by catching up to the pack.”
Now, if like me, you’ve been inspired by the Refugee Athletes in overcoming their challenges in order to compete, take note. The Paralympics are just about to get underway! (August 24 – Septemer 5)
