The glory of achievement

This may have something to do with the fact that I spent the weekend before the last at the Special Olympics Regional Games in Belfast.

For these athletes, winning a gold medal or a silver or bronze means exactly the same as it does to a world famous able-bodied athlete who wins a medal in other athletic competitions. But what makes it really difficult is trying to describe the emotions of both onlooker and participant at the Special Olympics without seeming to be somehow talking down to those who are involved in these games or appearing sentimental.

For the athletes the aura and the glow are exactly that of any other individual who stands on a podium and hears his or achievement broadcast, while a medal is placed around the neck. And the pride of onlookers is as intense.

But why should I have to explain why I, or any parent or sibling, might bask in the glory of family achievements? Perhaps this need to explain has something to do with the fact that we have been seasoned to feel that only academic or corporate success matters and that only those who seem to come close to our image of an ideal are truly memorable.

Often media personalities or stars come to signify that ideal.

Achievement is often measured in today’s society by the amount of media coverage that an individual gains, for whatever reason. People who work in the media, in particular television personalities, are instantly recognisable and become icons. In a sense they are placed on pedestals and their faces hover above us, not least because television is a magical box that frames the image and makes it both invade our reality and at the same time cuts us off from that reality.

They signify an idea of perfection and of achievement.

The Special Olympics competitions seek something different.

They recognise that everyone needs to feel a sense of achievement and we all need acknowledgement.

The rules and regulations of the Special Olympic Games are very specific. These rules govern the divisions and the times. An athlete who qualifies to take part in a particular division may not exceed 15 percent in performance.

This means that sometimes athletes are disqualified. For example, the wind may carry a javelin further than previously thrown.

Or an athlete may suddenly begin to concentrate more than she did before and run or walk faster than her qualifying time. This regulation may seem odd to many, but there is obviously a reason.

There is a principle here and it is because of this principle that people like Thomas, who has cerebral palsy, can take part at his own pace, in a group of his particular speed limitations. He can then aspire to win. We watched Thomas run down the field in the 200-metre race, accompanied by his helper and recognised that this was an achievement of the highest order.

The cheers that broke out when he reached the finishing line were recognition of his extraordinary grit and determination to achieve.

The spectators in the crowd were exultant.

For most of us in the day-to-day routine of what I choose to call our “mainstream” world, competition means being better than someone else.

Often this leads to devious ways of making those against whom we compete, fail. Or perhaps we network so that those with whom we associate can help us get to our goals.

But not so in the Special Olympics.

While everyone wants to win, everyone also wants everyone else to win. This may sound odd. But there is as much joy among athletes who do not come first when they see another achieve that gold as there is in winning itself. This is a difficult thing to get one’s head around.

Maybe it means taking the blinkers off and recognising that the true achievement is not about that moment of glory, but in the fact that somehow a hurdle has been passed. A limit circumvented.

An obstacle removed.

Lines are drawn in mainstream life that dictate success as something measurable. Yes, there is an element of this in the Special Olympics, but by putting in place several lines or avenues and creating different systems of evaluation, virtually everyone can achieve.

Success and achievement become interchangeable. We have succeeded because we have achieved recognition. But there are little stories that get lost, as the philosopher ?douard Gli ssant has noted, and it is these little stories that together create a true history.