I have never seen anything as inspiring as a thirty-five second one-hundred meter dash. I have never seen anything more exciting than a fifteen to twelve basketball game. I have never seen anything more humbling than young man refusing help, struggling, and ultimately succeeding in simply changing into his athletic uniform, a task nearly all of us take for granted. The Special Olympics is an incredible organization that I have had the privilege of volunteering and serving with over the last several years. These athletes with “disabilities” have taught me more about humility and competition than any superstar could.
Driving to the track, I was a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. What if my buddy doesn’t like me? What if something bad happens? Despite a little nervousness, I was looking forward to doing something I love.
A few minutes after arriving, I met my buddy. She was the person I would spend the day with, taking her to her events and cheering her on. Tammy, is a forty something woman who holds down a part-time job, lives at home with her mom, and has more track and field medals than I can count. Oh, and she has Down’s syndrome.
Our first event was the long jump. While waiting in line, almost every single athlete came up to Tammy to say hello. Tammy consistently remembered every single one of their names and always emboldened them when it was their turn. She was always there to offer congratulations or words of encouragement after an athlete had jumped. After she had jumped, she did not seem exuberant with her distance, but pleased enough. However there was no time to worry about that, we were on to the next event.
Next up was the shot-put. Again, she was greeted by the usual onslaught of friends, athletes and judges and recalled everyone’s names flawlessly and never failed to ask how someone was doing. She could barely escape the crowd when it was her turn to throw. This time, she was thrilled with her distance and could barely contain her happiness. All of her friends and I celebrated with her as she landed the shot close to her personal best. After the excitement had worn off, I could see nervousness begin to creep into her, she began to glance around, pace a little, and kept asking what the time was. Her next event was approaching; it was the pinnacle of her whole competition: the one-hundred meter dash.
The gun fired, and she was off, sprinting down the track with all she had. I found myself to be her loudest fan, cheering and whistling wildly - as the only person on the track was giving every ounce of energy she had left. Tammy waved at me as she flew by while I encouraged her to keep her eyes on the track. She finished and put her arms up in celebration. As I ran to her all she kept saying was, “I did it, I did it!” We walked over to the awards ceremony where she gratefully collected her medals, (a gold and two silver, not that it mattered) and celebrated with other athletes regardless of their performance. As she was leaving with her team, I was very glad that I had the opportunity to spend a day with Tammy, and I waved to her as she got onto to the bus with all three of her medals proudly swing back and forth around her neck.
That day, along with other experiences with the Special Olympics has crafted who I am today. Never had I ever seen someone receive a medal so humbly, and compete against herself as hard as they possibly can. The athletes that constitute and participate in the Special Olympics taught me valuable lessons that I will not soon forget. Humility is bred from competition. The feat of conquering an opponent and being humble in victory is equally as difficult as being gracious in defeat. While striving against an opponent, it is easy to be blinded by the allure of victory. However, competition seeks to pair individuals and teams against each other in order to give all they have to better one other. Humility is not merely masking the disappointment of defeat or concealing the exhilaration of triumph, but the appreciation of competition and what it grows in regards to athletics, but more importantly, in regards to character.