Chris Hoy's cancer prognosis has been a shocking shock to the senses, reminding us that legendary Olympic medalists are still human and as vulnerable to life's twists and turns as we are. And with that, we've gained a powerful measure of a precious commodity in sports and beyond: perspective.
Announced during the cycling world championships in Denmark, which Hoy attended, it was immediately impossible to see the upcoming races as anything more than a little frivolous and light-hearted. There was a new clarity that, as commentators often say, they are important but not the most important, they no longer make or break or define life, and we sought the happiness in them, necessary for them to have any meaning.
Today has refocused our eyes on the great game we all played long after the finish line was crossed, the medals were awarded, and the velodrome crowd went home.
Today he is clear that his cancer is not a game in which he wins or loses. His behavior reminds me of the phrase of the American sports journalist Grandland Rice: “When a great scorer scores next to your name, he writes – not that you won or lost – but how you played”, which resonates wonderfully for Today a century later. . Drawing on the support of his former Olympic psychologist, Professor Steve Peters, he reminds us of the importance of growing mentally and physically every time we face the greatest challenge, and humbly shows that none of us are ready or prepared for the Olympic Games that the life has in store for us. Champion or not.
Today he was already the ultimate role model of how to play this sport, known as one of the best-hearted athletes you have ever met, and at the same time the fiercest competitor seen on the court. It's the strongest living proof you can get that you don't have to be bad to win, that virtues and values always matter, a stark contrast to this summer's controversial Nike Olympic ad that fueled dark and outdated narratives of those that the “real winners” lack. compassion, respect or empathy for others.
The game needs perspective a lot. I wish it didn't have to be presented this way, but Hoey has easily demonstrated the superficiality of footballers taking the plunge and the absurdity of the latest transfer title rumours. It may inadvertently help some athletes who teeter on the edge of Olympic blues, emotionally drained when the singular goal of victory suddenly collapses after the Games.
By finding purpose in her situation to reshape what it means to live with stage 4 cancer, Hoy shows true resilience. Not the stiff upper lip kind, but a resilience based on our chosen response to adversity, the perspective we bring to challenges, our ability to find meaning and joy in everyday life and prioritize relationships above all else. According to research conducted on military personnel, elite athletes, and people experiencing trauma or grief, resilience is based on purpose, perspective, meaning, joy, and connection.
During the race I read the news about Hoy, the president of the Charles Regatta, the largest sailing meeting in the world. Thousands race 2.5 miles down the Charles River through picturesque Boston, Massachusetts, past the Harvard Boathouses and over some beautiful angled bridges to hunt the highly skilled coxswains and rowers who steer the coxless boats. Each year the regatta grows and becomes a powerful catalyst connecting the world of rowing in new ways across countries, ages and events. After Hoi's message I saw it in a different light.
The racing game is innovating, so much more needs to be done. Olympic rowers formed mixed teams and competed in Paris with competitors from different countries on the same boat. British Olympic champion Imogen Grant led a group of eight lightweights who had been in separate boats for many years. If rowing is about how fast a boat can go, why not compete with someone from another country? It amazes me how crazy it is that it's so rare, how we're stealing what great teams could do because the game is always organized nationally.
There was also an event for eight-year-old cancer survivors, a moving scene that evoked waves of emotion in the thousands of people who lined the pews. I was part of a group of British Olympic rowers of my generation and we were competing against four Canadian contemporaries, but they didn't know it. The connection was immediate and deep.
Schools, universities and clubs from all over the world participate and the age categories range from 30 to 80 years old. Our co-ed team, with an average age of over 50, competed against several teams, including one as young as the Paris Olympians. Lack of time. We need more imagination and ambition in sport to create more opportunities to explore the possible beyond the narrow, arbitrary categories we have been trapped in for so long.
When I entered Sunday's race after the news from Hoi, I was in a completely different mood. Instead of worrying about how hard the race would be, doubting how I would handle the pain and fatigue, or worrying about where we would end up, I felt great gratitude and the simple joy of being able to run. The close bond they share while competing together. Both are excellent ingredients for solid performance.
The game can and should consist of more than just the result. We know Hoi for his incredible athleticism, but we also love and admire him for how he emerges under extreme pressure and vulnerable moments. Sport not only gives us a drive to win medals, but also a deeply inspiring character and what really matters on and off the field of play is how we present ourselves.
We all need to make sure we don't forget the big game in our upcoming school matches, club matches and international matches.
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