In pursuit of the extraordinary

Notes on the Olympics and why we love to be surprised

I have always been impressed by people who can reference quotes in the middle of a conversation. It’s an art that doesn’t come naturally to me, and I suppose I have never actively tried to remember striking lines from books I have read. I rely instead on my notes and annotations, mental crutches that unfortunately cannot accompany me everywhere.

There are, however, a few lines that I cannot forget. One of them is this phrase by Lyn Hejinian: As for we who “love to be astonished”. Astonishment was definitely the feeling of reading those words for the first time, especially as they recurred throughout her masterpiece of a collection My Life and My Life in the Nineties. The suspense as a subordinate clause—as the phrase is first encountered—and the simultaneous focus and instability from the masterfully placed quotation marks firmly embedded this line in my memory.

I think about this as I think about why, as someone who isn’t really a sports enthusiast, I have been so entertained by the 2024 Paris Olympics. This weekend, Michael and I spent a good amount of time watching highlights of historic wins and breathtaking competitions: Carlos Yulo for men’s gymnastics, Katie Ledecky for swimming, Julian Alfred for the 100m dash, and, of course, Simone Biles for women’s gymnastics. Why was I suddenly so invested in three-minute clips of sports I had never really paid attention to before?

I asked Michael, who has played a variety of sports throughout his life, this question. Competition, he said. It’s exciting, astounding, especially at such a high level.

Yes, that seems right. Lounging on the day bed watching incredible athletes push their physical limits does send a thrill through my body. Witnessing a Filipino gymnast make history with two back-to-back gold medals does inspire a strange pride. Through it all was the feeling of surprise—the breathtaking, heart-racing feeling of something unexpected. Extraordinary.

I also think about the main reason I have personally grown to appreciate athleticism. For a long time, I didn’t care about sports at all. I never played one growing up. It was in my early twenties that I, out of a desire to maintain strength and flexibility as I grew older, began to take fitness classes. In them, I quickly found meaning. Something that, despite the difficulty, time, and expense, made it worthwhile. The competitive nature of sports nor the physical feats weren’t what drew me in, but the mental fortitude that training demands.

I fell in love with aerial silks in 2019. The strength and grace of aerial athletes awed me, and I aspired to one day have the skill and stamina to perform a full routine.

For the first few months, I would wake up with my hands stiffened into claws from the exertion on my grip that I had never subjected my body to before. My upper body strength was embarrassingly nonexistent, so the learning curve for me was steep. The most challenging aspect, however, was its mental toll. Persisting despite the weakness and pain, and committing to attend classes when I could stay at home instead was foundational. Progress, given time, was then inevitable, and soon I had learned to do multiple climbs, basic tricks, and a handful of clumsily-done inverts.

From my early days, 2018

The lockdown abruptly stopped my training, and sadly I have not had the chance to pick it back up due to the lack of studios around my area. In the meantime, I have been attending fitness classes that have expanded my physical and mental capabilities. From pushing past the burn during a 20-minute AMRAP to getting up at 5 in the morning to attend class to giving myself the space to fail and try again, the habit of going to the gym has required me to go beyond my ordinary—and in the process, create for myself the possibility of surprise.

I’ve surprised myself throughout the past two years with the personal records I have broken. From barely being able to lift 75 pounds I can now deadlift 135 pounds—almost 30% more than my current bodyweight. During my most active period, I had finally been able to do a single, elusive pull-up. I used to be breathless running 200 meters, but I can now do a few rounds of 400 meters with a few breaks in between.

2021

Surprise, in this case, feels like the intense, fleeting flash resulting from the cultivation of a thousand moments and intentions. The surprises that matter are not accidental: a loved one showing up for an unexpected visit, a friend’s betrayal, well-written plot twists, a tasteful joke during a wake, emerging as the best in a sport you’ve trained all your life for.

When athletes like Carlos Yulo and Simone Biles thrill and surprise us with their record-breaking feats, they do so with unwavering determination and confidence. It would have been impossible otherwise, which is arguably why Simone’s decision to take a mental health break in 2021 was what prepared her to push the boundaries of her sport. Similarly, commenting on Carlos’ decision to move back to Manila from Japan to train for the 2023 Worlds, Gymnastics Association of the Philippines president Cynthia Carrion-Norton remarked, “I think [Carlos] can perform better if he’s happy. And he’s happy whenever his friends and family are around.” It should not be surprise to know that being well is fundamental to performing well, and yet when it happens, it hits us like a miracle.

Even the surprises we think are unplanned are not totally out of the blue, I think. What some would call fate plays a hand in those rare moments of the unexpected. Mostly, I believe that we can only be surprised when we are receptive to its possibility. There is an element of mental readiness that often goes overlooked. Coming across a hundred-dollar bill on the ground seems completely random, but it could only have been found if one were being observant. It is just as likely that one would miss it, had their attention been elsewhere.

When our lives start to stagnate, as lives tend to do, we feel the impulse to revive it with novelty—with surprise. We look for it everywhere. In our pursuit of the extraordinary, we create not just the possibility of excitement but also, more importantly, the possibility of transformation. Surprise occurs at varying degrees, but it is the feeling that marks the moment of instantaneous change. The lives of Olympics medalists change overnight. Surprise romantic proposals cue the evolution of a relationship. Even winning a prize, monetary or otherwise, can be the springboard to a seemingly unattainable goal.

We often try to simulate that kind of life-changing surprise. I know I definitely do. Impulsive online shopping, for instance, is a way of manufacturing for ourselves a taste of it. Opening a package, even when I know what’s inside it, gives an undeniable high. Trying a new planner system every few months comes with the hope that one of them will finally change my life. The thrill of watching the Olympics, hoping for those moments of surprise, is a simulation too.

I cherish those little surprises, but I know that the astonishment I seek lies elsewhere. I will not stumble upon it in my comfort zone. I will not find it using the same lens I have used all my life. I will also not discover it with a misguided restlessness disguised as progress.

As for we who “love to be astonished”, may we have the courage, discipline, and love to cultivate a space in ourselves where surprise can, for a fleeting but unforgettable moment, blossom. I am grateful for the athletes who reminded me of this today.