Paris, je t’aime
The Olympics has stolen my heart.
What is it about this Olympics? Is it the very cute and very glam set-up for the horsies in Actual Versailles? The little fences they’re jumping over that look like big cakes? The horses are clearing the Eiffel Tower! Douze points! Is it Sunisa Lee’s arc of overcoming a potentially career-ending illness? All the Irish athletes trying their best and then sometimes winning? Trying their best and not coming close to the podium, but still, they’ve worked so hard and their families are there and they’re so proud? I’m crying so much. Good tears. Humans are amazing tears. We gotta give every kid the space and opportunity to pursue their dreams tears.
My annual leave has coincided with the Olympics, and while I’ve not been training for a 1,500-metre swim I do feel some sense of release this month after a pretty busy year. I was saying to a friend I’ve had the type of year where the hours I needed to work, write, sort out various things, mind myself and rest just weren’t able to balance out. I’m very calm under pressure, it’s been noted by a few people I’ve worked for and alongside, and some of that I put down to knowing that whatever is happening isn’t probably the worst-case scenario. It’s only an emergency if you need to call an ambulance. Still, maintaining that demeanour takes its toll. When I’m stressed I can only deal with life minute-by-minute, hour-by-hour. Topping a year of that off by watching Paris on the big screen feels good. Weirdly apt.
I can’t remember being this into the Olympics before. Oh actually, I was very into Athens 2004. I was reading loads of Star Wars novels at the time and then I looked up and the male swimming was on. The pool that year was outdoors - chic - and the night sky and artificial light was hitting the men in a way that made teenage Jean go ‘oh’. I kept reading my Star Wars novels, but now I was like well these male characters obviously all have the physiques of Olympians even if they are living in space and that is associated with muscle mass and bone density issues. But the other Olympics? I was very much tuned out. This year, I was ready. The diary was clear.
A friend told me what she loves about the Olympics is all the stories. I nodded, amazed at her clarity, like she was Yoda. Yes. Yes. Yes. It’s grim out there, we need good stories, we need to be clearing fences modelled after the Arc de Triomphe. We need happy endings.
P.S. I found a PDF describing all the fences.