I Went to the Olympics, and I’ve Never Felt More Appreciative of My Own Mind and Body

I never did team sports growing up. I danced for several years — I was an ’80s baby, after all, and every late ’80s and early ’90s baby will tell you of their early-in-life dance lessons. But I never had an innate drive to do any other type of movement. It wasn’t that I was necessarily bad at sports (my hand-eye coordination was okay, though I could have used a bit of speed), but as a small, bookish person I just didn’t find the joy in movement like some others my age did. I liked reading, and I liked getting better at something (like writing), and I liked being just kind of reserved overall.

My parents didn’t mind that I wasn’t particularly athletic. They let us kids do us, and while they loved watching sports (our TV was always on football or basketball), it wasn’t a particular goal or desire for them to have sports-oriented kids. Looking back, I would have been a terrible athlete in general. I truly had no competitive spirit and no desire to put in those hours of training. When I watch sports games, I think of how sad the other team must be after losing. When I play board games, I ask everyone if they’re having fun. I enjoy watching people win at something they so enjoy, even if I lose.

When it came to the Olympics — the pinnacle of athleticism and patriotism — we watched it, but we weren’t the level of those Olympics families that are glued to the TV. We watched the opening ceremony, we cheered, we watched gymnastics and swimming (primarily), and then we just enjoyed watching people achieve their dreams in the background; but it wasn’t like I watched it thinking, “wow, that could be me.” I just admired it and took it all in.

But when I got the chance to attend the Olympics with Team USA’s official airline, Delta, I was thrilled. (No, really, I literally cried.) I knew that getting to see these athletes in-person attempt such great feats was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and I was determined to envelop myself in the experience of it all. But never did expect to have the reaction I did.

We’re all in constant movement towards something — in our bodies, but in our hearts and minds, too.

It started out as pure excitement. Our lineup of events were as follows — the opening ceremony, men’s and women’s swimming, women’s gymnastics, and beach volleyball. The opening ceremony started dry enough, before we were wet with rain (thankfully shielded a bit by our ponchos). All I kept thinking of was the athletes on the boats, waving and representing their countries proudly before having to go out on the world stage to compete. (Would they get colds?) I was worried, but having the best time watching the spectacle unfold. I couldn’t wait to see everyone compete.

At men’s and women’s swimming, I was starting to fully embrace the Olympic spirit. Seeing Katie Ledecky and Paige Madden take off in women’s freestyle, their bodies moving swiftly through the water as the crowd cheered was awe-inspiring; seeing Gretchen Walsh and Torri Huske butterfly their way to first and second in their heats was insanity. The cheers of USA! USA! USA! was surprisingly intoxicating, and as the men’s 4×100 freestyle relay hit I could feel my heart swelling as their bodies worked to jump in controlled arcs into the water, gaining leverage with each jump and each stroke, winning by 1.07 seconds before Australia.

At gymnastics, though I didn’t get to see Team USA, I watched as Hillary Heron stunned in her floor routine, landing one of Simone Biles’ signature moves, the Biles 1 (Biles has 5 gymnastics moves named after her, casual). Watching these gymnasts fly through the air, landing with thuds as their bodies made impact with the floor, moving seemingly effortlessly throughout a routine — I thought about my dancing, and how free I felt when moving, how hitting a beat and a move at just the right time with just the right amount of force feels like an accomplishment on its own, no matter if anyone is watching.

At the last event, watching volleyball players Kelly Cheng and Sarah Hughes beat their opponents and look so joyful while doing so — encouraging one another with high fives and nods, tapping each other when something went well, jumping up and down and hugging at the end when they won — I too, was filled with joy. It reminded me that while we’re not all athletes, we’re all living this shared human experience together. We’re all in constant movement towards something — in our bodies, but in our hearts and minds, too. I’m not competitive, but it doesn’t mean I don’t take joy in accomplishments. It doesn’t mean that I don’t find fulfillment in making strides, progressing, or hitting goals — or that I don’t challenge myself. Resiliency, determination, ambition — we all embrace and work through these to get where we want to go.

Watching these Olympic athletes move and put themselves out there to accomplish some of their biggest dreams was not only inspirational, it was educational — in how I see myself, and how I think about what I am doing, and what I can do in the future. Athletes are amazingly gifted, but so can we all be.

Samantha Leal is a lifestyle writer, editor, and editorial consultant who writes about beauty, wellness, travel, drinks, and more — basically, all the good things in life. She’s held editorial roles at The Knot, Latina magazine, Marie Claire, and Well+Good, and she’s written for PS, Bustle, Vogue, Teen Vogue, Glamour, Travel + Leisure, Byrdie, StyleCaster, The Zoe Report, and more.