Taking Your Olympic Measure
By Alberto Ríos
—Poetry was an Olympic event from 1912-1948.
Think of the records you have held:
For one second, you were the world’s youngest person.
It was a long time ago, but still.
At this moment, you are living
In the farthest thousandth-of-a-second in the history of time.
You have beaten yesterday’s record, again.
You were perhaps the only participant,
But in the race to get from your bedroom to the bathroom,
You won.
You win so much, all the time in all things.
Your heart simply beats and beats and beats—
It does not lose, although perhaps one day.
Nevertheless, the lists of firsts for you is endless—
Doing what you have not done before,
Tasting sake and mole, smelling bergamot, hearing
Less well than you used to—
Not all records are for the scrapbook, of course—
Sometimes you are the best at being the worst.
Some records are secret—you know which ones.
Some records you’re not even aware of.
In general, however, at the end of a long day, you are—
Unlikely as it may seem—the record holder of note.
About the Poem
I enjoy the theme of this poem because it says we are all winners, and we should celebrate our own little victories. In a historical note, just like the 100 meters, was an official Olympic competition from 1912 to 1948. Sadly, the names of the medal winners are not listed on the International Olympic Committee’s rosters. Art competitions were part of the Olympic program from 1912 to 1948, but were discontinued due to concerns about amateurism and professionalism. Medals were awarded in five categories (architecture, literature, music, painting, and sculpture), for works inspired by sport-related themes.
About the Poet
Born in 1952, Alberto Ríos is the inaugural state poet laureate of Arizona and the author of many poetry collections, including A Small Story about the Sky (Copper Canyon Press, 2015). In 1981, he received the Walt Whitman Award for his collection Whispering to Fool the Wind (Sheep Meadow Press, 1982). He served as a Chancellor of the Academy of American Poets from 2014 to 2020.
Joe
The Closet Professor 
July 30th, 2024 at 6:11 am
Another lovely young man appears on your blog. And a fine poem does too, portraying a happy outlike on life. That’s what we all need, and the facility to smile a lot.
July 31st, 2024 at 12:54 am
I am so glad that I stumbled upon your blog. I admire the pics but the above poem is quite poignant and encouraging. I’m starting a new chapter in my life in Arizona after the death of my long-time husband last year. I gone through grief counseling and have made peace with my circumstances. I grieve mindfully and will also have another chance to live my life. The poem, Taking your Olympic Measure, gives me another way to look at my new journey. Thank you.
July 31st, 2024 at 5:15 am
I’m sorry to hear about your husband. I’m glad the poem served as an inspiration for you.
August 1st, 2024 at 12:52 am
As I was reading the notes after the poem, I noticed that I’m that same age as the poet. I’m not sure at what age he had reached when he wrote the poem, however.
As I read the poem, I thought it captures something about recognizing that good things are happening all around each of us, but how difficult it is in the crunch of busyness to honestly tell ourselves that we, each of us, are special. Our capitalist society wants to make us feel we must own or achieve various goals in order to be valuable. Isn’t that an essential message we get from the GOP—if you aren’t producing then you are a drain on society. Your pension and medical care cost too much! Get out of the way!
I moved to a retirement community 18 months ago and I continue to be amazed at how many people cannot let go of their need to be seen as valuable or important. For some of them, it’s not enough to be kind and gentle and reflect love. No, they want to be calling a meeting when there is honestly nothing to talk about! Somehow they cling to a need to explain or be in control of things that honestly don’t need much thought or else are beyond the control of anyone. Simply, they do not have the sense to take their hands off the wheel and let someone else drive. They want to second guess the management company, stress over the menu, and just genuinely fret. The mail carrier is late! There is one couple who will, seriously, patrol the building so they can make a list of burned out light bulbs. In most ways, it’s an exercise in making themselves still feel “important.” I’ve got a breaking news announcement—life isn’t a competition to see who has the most toys when the game is over!
I loved the author’s mention of mole. I can still remember the first time I enjoyed that in a restaurant down in Austin, Texas.
I had a small stroke last week. I’m focused on a loving card my 8 y o granddaughter drew for me. It’s that old message attributed to Native American wisdom, about which of the two wolves do you feed. The brilliant psychologist Erik Erikson formulated that in the final stage of life, it comes down to making a decision between despair or contentment. Rupert Murdock and Warren Buffet are fantastic tokens for each approach.
Yes, it’s a fine poem. I should edit this but I’m on my iPad so …pardon my wordiness and disorder. You do know lawyers charge by the word? Old habit for me!
Joe, I read in the NYT that parts of Vermont got 8” of rain yesterday. I hope wherever you are has been protected from that.
Peace!
August 1st, 2024 at 4:41 am
Thanks for the wonderfully thoughtful comment. Yes, some people feel they have to show their importance by complaining or, why I see more often, by playing the martyr.
I hope you are recovering from your stroke and are now doing well.
The towns that got the 8” of rain is in the area of f Vermont known as the Northeast Kingdom (NEK), which is about an hour or so north of where I live. My town suffered enough damage in the flood a few weeks ago. Like the towns in the NEK, our town was devastated by the floods: 3 bridges washed out, 2 houses collapsed, and we also made the national news (even if they showed the images of here while discussing another town, which they badly mispronounced the name of). I was spared any of the damage because I live on a hill well above the river that flows through town.
PS: I worked as a legal assistant when I was in undergrad because I wanted to be a lawyer. It caused me to realize that what had been my dream since the first time I saw Matlock was just not for me, so instead I went to grad school to continue pursuing my education in history.
August 1st, 2024 at 9:52 am
oh, yes, playing the martyr! And that’s another way to try to confirm one’s sense of being important. “I’m the only one who takes this seriously….” Maybe everyone else realizes it doesn’t matter?
I’m apparently making good progress after the stroke, thank you. Part of my challenge now is the working hours of this facility. I’m a night owl. The idea of getting up at 7 or so is something I’ve avoided for decades!
I’m glad that you are in a safer area of the state.
As to careers, law is definitely not for everyone! History was one of my three majors as an undergrad. I spent most of college thinking I wanted to be an Episcopal priest, law school was a fall back position after one of the bishops I was working with expressed deep concern over how hostile my relationship with my father was—caused in a large part because my father could not accept I was gay. I was not the son he wanted. I’m grateful I was never in a place of giving spiritual advice, I found ways to mentor and support others. For so many, seminary is about ego, playing a role in an ecclesiastical drama, keeping up appearances. Curiously, two other bishops did offer to sponsor me, but the honest observations about being gay and struggling with my father penetrated me in the way only truth can do.
Thanks for your kind words. I have only recently found your blog and it has landed itself into my spiritual journey. I hope I won’t be here too much longer. I miss my MacBook—I find editing and reorganizing my thoughts very challenging on an iPad!
Blessings to you, Joe! It’s wonderful to have access to such an articulate pen pal! Bruce