Don't we laugh, as parents, at this "medal for everyone" nonsense? Every child gets a medal, everyone's a winner. "When I was a kid, we had winners and losers." And we did. Learning to survive was as important as winning, and it's what we learned. In our age bracket, perhaps, there is more tolerance for failure for that reason. Today, "Everything is Awesome!" and everyone is rewarded for any accomplishment, however meager. Was a time when the coach awarded the top one or two players with a separate medal for achievement. Now, every player gets an award, everyone gets to speechify, and we celebrate mediocrity.
"Yay Brittany, good job playing soccer! I particularly enjoyed the time you were staring off into space as a defender blew by you and scored, but you had that one time when you made a good pass, so we'll call you 'Most thoughtful.' Here's your trophy and certificate!"
*coughs*
I know runners that subscribe to the opposite philosophy when it comes to themselves. They don't run a race unless there is a medal. "I'm not running that race. There's no medal." Actual quote. Not a medal for the top-place finishers, mind you: a medal for everyone. Isn't this the same thing? I had an exchange with someone on a running group yesterday who had their list of races for the year, and when I suggested they might run some distance on the Pacific Crest Trail, they e-looked at me like I was a weirdo. "Why would I run the Pacific Crest Trail when the Hot Chocolate 15k is coming up? They have a cool medal. You don't get a medal for running the PCT."
"Yay Brittany, good job playing soccer! I particularly enjoyed the time you were staring off into space as a defender blew by you and scored, but you had that one time when you made a good pass, so we'll call you 'Most thoughtful.' Here's your trophy and certificate!"
*coughs*
I know runners that subscribe to the opposite philosophy when it comes to themselves. They don't run a race unless there is a medal. "I'm not running that race. There's no medal." Actual quote. Not a medal for the top-place finishers, mind you: a medal for everyone. Isn't this the same thing? I had an exchange with someone on a running group yesterday who had their list of races for the year, and when I suggested they might run some distance on the Pacific Crest Trail, they e-looked at me like I was a weirdo. "Why would I run the Pacific Crest Trail when the Hot Chocolate 15k is coming up? They have a cool medal. You don't get a medal for running the PCT."
This blog post is unaffiliated with Hot Chocolate, Inc.
So what's the point of running? Medals? Arguably. It's nice to look back at our accomplishments, isn't it? To have a friendly and clinky reminder of what we've done, even if it's only a three mile race. Isn't that the laughable thing, what we scoff at for our children? Isn't this what we hate about society? A nice reward for very little effort.
So let's ask ourselves - what's wrong with celebrating our accomplishments? Nothing. I'm going to do a 180-degree turnaround on this. Give my kid a medal for sucking. I'm okay with that. His fragile little ego needs all the boosting it can get.
All three of my sons are incredible soccer players - like your kids -- so I'm obviously being facetious. About them sucking, not about the medals. Medals for everyone!
There's a larger point here, however. It's not that Wendell gets a medal for picking his nose. It's that we associate rewards with trying, and if you don't try, or you are rather mediocre, then maybe it shouldn't be celebrated in the same way. Do you know there are some people who jump in a race without registering for it so they can get the medal? And there are people who jump into the race somewhere along the way for the same reason? They're called bandits, and they are universally reviled. That's the essence of cheating. Getting without doing.
Not to put too fine a point on it, but ultimately medals are all about effort and pride. I kicked ass, I want something to show for it, something tangible so I can remember it and hold my precious in my hand, stroke it longingly, wear it in my old age as I become invisible to the world and sit in my cave. So precious...
*Cough* Gollum * Hack *
Let's try to remember that running is a solo sport, it's about challenging yourself. Testing your own mettle, seeing what you're made of. If you sucked, maybe you shouldn't get a medal. I ran my second half and finished in the bottom 5% of my age group. Impressive, no? and yet there my medal sits, staring at me. So precious.
So let's ask ourselves - what's wrong with celebrating our accomplishments? Nothing. I'm going to do a 180-degree turnaround on this. Give my kid a medal for sucking. I'm okay with that. His fragile little ego needs all the boosting it can get.
All three of my sons are incredible soccer players - like your kids -- so I'm obviously being facetious. About them sucking, not about the medals. Medals for everyone!
There's a larger point here, however. It's not that Wendell gets a medal for picking his nose. It's that we associate rewards with trying, and if you don't try, or you are rather mediocre, then maybe it shouldn't be celebrated in the same way. Do you know there are some people who jump in a race without registering for it so they can get the medal? And there are people who jump into the race somewhere along the way for the same reason? They're called bandits, and they are universally reviled. That's the essence of cheating. Getting without doing.
Not to put too fine a point on it, but ultimately medals are all about effort and pride. I kicked ass, I want something to show for it, something tangible so I can remember it and hold my precious in my hand, stroke it longingly, wear it in my old age as I become invisible to the world and sit in my cave. So precious...
*Cough* Gollum * Hack *
Let's try to remember that running is a solo sport, it's about challenging yourself. Testing your own mettle, seeing what you're made of. If you sucked, maybe you shouldn't get a medal. I ran my second half and finished in the bottom 5% of my age group. Impressive, no? and yet there my medal sits, staring at me. So precious.
How hard it is, to remember that the REASON we run - we do almost anything, really - is for ourselves, not for some petty trinket that sits inanimate, waiting for attention. The precious is tied to our history, but running is about experiencing the present and improving ourselves. We should all try to remember that.
Do you promise to remember that?
Do you promise to remember that?
You swore on the precious! You promised!
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