Saturday, in London, was a very hot place to be, for more
reasons than one.
The weather, for one thing, was scorching. The relentless
sun beat down on the ground unimpeded by any sign of a cloud. But that still
wasn’t the hottest thing around.
The only thing hotter than the sun? The Olympic Park.
We went to see the Paralympics at the weekend with what felt
like everyone else. Everyone. The place was packed. A buzz of excitement
rippled about the place like nothing I’ve ever felt. I really don’t like crowds
and yet somehow I felt relaxed and happy among this one.
Meanwhile, the athletics was unbelievable.
Blind people running or throwing Javelins or jumping into
sandpits. Cerebral Palsy effected ladies powering themselves along a track with
every single step an unquestionable display of gritted determination. People so
severely disabled they have to be lifted up and strapped into a tripod, just so
that they can throw a shot-put, doing just that and then throwing it further
than I ever could. People with no spine at all pushing their way down a 100
meter track.
All of it.
Incredible.
This is what human achievement is. This is what we can do.
When we take people seriously, who have been traditionally
pushed to one side and forgotten about, and give them the same training and
funding opportunities as everyone else then this is what happens. They deliver
sport of an equal and greater quality than that of their counterparts. I stood
clapping my hands in disbelief and awe as a man who could not stand without shaking,
wobbling and support, was helped up the rostrum to collect a bronze medal for his
run. The fact that this man had managed to run the length of track that he had
done is amazing enough, that he managed to do it fast enough to beat anyone
else? Superhuman!
How much dedication and strength must that have taken? A
damned sight more than I’ve ever put into anything in my life – I’ll bet you that
much.
These people at once made me proud to be a part of the human
race and also ashamed of the attitudes that I myself have been a part of.
Still tripping from the atmosphere of the stadium, we ambled
about the park desperately searching for shade or water or food. I generally
don’t like to go more than half an hour without eating so this activity took a
while.
The park hummed with excitement. I really did feel pretty
proud to be British looking about at what we had done.
Later we went on the Orbit. This is the art installation and
general lookout post that overlooks the stadium like a giant Helter Skelter.
The views of the park were stunning if not entirely worth the over-priced fee.
In no time at all, the day was done – except it wasn’t.
Just as I thought we were on our way home we heard an
announcement that there were spaces available for the Wheelchair Rugby for people
on the park. Well – what were we to do? We made our way to the arena and went
in – that’s what we did.
Don’t get me started on what these guys were doing. When
people with no back can hurl themselves about like this then it truly is time
to see them in a new light.
Stop seeing what they can’t do. Start seeing what they can
do.
Amazing.
It’s as simple as that





4 comments:
Yep. Many, if not all of us have been humbled somewhat by the last two weeks. I tried to "blog" my highlights but only scratched the surface for both events. I also need to get something off my chest "My name is Nick, and I fancy Hannah Cockroft" (in a mid-life crisis, takes me longer to get the car started than it does for her to complete 200m).
Great post...... beautifully put sentiments! I couldn't agree more.
Wasn't it fab? I was lucky enough to be there for Thriller Thursday and catch a few team sport things too - so glad 'I was there' and I bet you are too by the sound of it! 8-)
Nick - Who doesn't fancy Hannah?
Frances - ta
Broken Biro - Totally glad - once in a lifetime experience
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