I have enjoyed watching the winter Olympics this year, but I can’t stand too much tension.  Hockey is out – that game is just one long continuous strain for me.  I remember trying to watch the Ladies Hockey final in Vancouver’s 2010 games.  I had to turn the sound off and had to stand up and only really managed the last few minutes.  My tolerance for competition was completely matched by the newly introduced curling mixed doubles event – skill, strategy, a simple dynamic duo to cheer for — I may become a fan girl of this sport.

The other mystery for me is watching those who win silver medals.  It is on this podium that true excellence is tested I think — how one receives second place is so much more important than why.   But it’s oh so hard!  And this makes great fodder for a poem.

Second Place

Silver graced athletes
arrive on the podium
tarnished, placed beneath,
fractions of a second behind.
A waning moon of time,
point-zero-four off
somebody’s shadow,
or a degree of execution
visually slowed to expose
the very soul of a movement,
ground into muscle memory,
traumatized by injury,
complicated by rivalry,
sport psychology,
mental gymnastics.
Second is a cloud
that only has a silver lining:

standing tall there
is athletic alchemy.

© 2018 Laurel Archer

Photo credit — Standing tall. Caleb of course, taking the gold.