Two weeks ago, I fulfilled a lifelong dream—I attended the Olympics. The first Games I remember watching was Barcelona in 1992. I can remember Freddie Mercury and Montserrat Caballé’s powerful rendition of “Barcelona,” a song that perfectly captured the awe and grandeur of the Olympic Games. Since then, I’ve been hooked, dedicated to watching as much of it as possible on the tv.
But two weeks ago, I finally experienced the Olympics in person, and it was glorious. My family and I were lucky enough to witness volleyball, canoe and kayak sprinting, athletics, and the women’s football final. The atmosphere was electric—I’ll never forget the roar of the stadium when the U.S. scored in the football final. Though I was rooting for Brazil, I was completely swept up in the collective euphoria. The joy in that moment was palpable, something I could feel in my bones.
The highlight of the entire experience, however, was watching an athlete I’ve admired for years: Katarina Johnson-Thompson. We were in the stadium as she completed her heptathlon competition. When she ran the 800 meters, giving it everything she had to secure a well-deserved silver medal, we cheered her on with all our might.
I’ve long admired KJT for her authenticity. She has shown us the full spectrum of the human experience—the highs, the lows, the fears, and the triumphs. In Rio 2016, despite her potential, she struggled to perform at her best and later shared that mental health challenges had played a significant role. Five years later, in Tokyo, she changed everything—her training, her routine, even her country—but an injury prevented her from completing the competition.
In 2024, she returned, having navigated the terrain of mental health struggles and physical rehabilitation. In the shot put, she threw a personal best and let out a roar of relief and exhilaration. On the surface, it seemed like a response to a good throw, but to me it felt like the roar of a survivor—someone who has faced it all and emerged with strength, courage, self-awareness, humility, and grace.
In a way, I loved that she won silver. As my sister said, “It’s the silver Olympics for Team GB.” Tom Daley, Adam Peaty, and KJT may not have topped the podium, but their journeys—embracing the ups and downs of life with self-compassion and pride—are worth their weight in gold.
Resilience isn’t about an unbroken upward trajectory; it’s about embracing life’s messiness. In accepting that we don’t always win, we discover our true selves.