The Olympics have come to an end.
Somehow we’ve forgotten about the mosquitoes. We still care about the violence (even the made-up robbery) and the water pollution (can you say “ewwww”), but we’re not worrying about it.
We’re thinking about all the wonderful things that happened over the last two weeks. We’re remembering the grit, the heart, the sportsmanship. We’re thinking about the world records, the Olympic medals, and the national anthems.
We’re reliving the colors and the music and the stories. We’re remembering the athletes who set personal bests and those who competed with no hope of a medal. Because that’s what the Olympics are all about—coming together to celebrate the spirit and athleticism of the participants.
I love the Olympics. I love what they stand for (staying up past midnight every day to watch obscure sports) and what they represent (bankrupting the host nation). But I have to admit, I’m ready for The Games to be over. I’m ready to go back to staying up late to watch Trevor Noah et al. I’m ready to watch football and reality TV and NCIS reruns.
But then I’ll be ready for the Olympics the next time around.