Olympic Bodies

A Place and a Purpose for Every Body

Panathenaic amphora, a victory prize from ca. 530 BC depicting a foot race, attributed to the painter Euphiletos. Hellenic Museum.

Look, I have said it before and I will say it again: I love the Olympics, and we are right in the midst of them now as the Paris Olympics are well underway. I’ll be honest: I am not an athlete. I can’t swing a bat, slam a dunk, vault a pole, swim a lap, or ping a pong to save my life. I ran track for one season when I was a sophomore in high school and I can still feel the pang of the shin splints I suffered after being tricked into running the practice loop with the senior boys instead of the newcomers. I thought I was going to die after the first week of practice; the first time I had to run the 400m, I nearly collapsed mid-run because nobody told me I needed to pace myself. Anyway, what I’m saying is that I am not particularly athletically gifted so, as I’ve gotten older, I have had to learn to keep my body active in ways that suit my levels of coordination and the way my body works.

With that in mind, back to what I was saying about the Olympic Games!

I love them. I love watching the people of every nation come together, as few or as many as they may be, to speak in the international language of sport, to put their years of practice on the world stage, to bring pride to their country, and to build friendships that ignore borders and cultural differences. I find myself getting misty-eyed every time an American wins a gold medal, stands on the podium, and hears the national anthem played for them. Honestly, you could show me pretty much anyone on the podium hearing their anthem play for them and I’d find it moving. You can feel their pride beaming through their tears from halfway across the world. As a naturist, too, I also find it really fun that the nudist and naturist community derives a little joy trotting out the fact that the original Olympic Games were practiced nude, taking the gymnos in gymnasium seriously. I like knowing that a historically nude sporting event is one of our most anticipated and respected global traditions to this day, even as it has shed the nudity.

Stadio dei Marmi Views in Rome. Photo credit: Riccardo Andolfo

There is a lot to say from a naturist perspective about the history of the Olympic Games and their nude origins, like this one from the History News Network, or this one from Forbes, or this one with a more naturism-rooted perspective from Natural Pursuits. Heck, I even wrote a bit about in this article of mine called A Sexless Paradise*. All that is to say that I don’t think I have anything else to add to that particular conversation that’s unique or new or bears repeating. The historians have it covered. The nudists and naturists have it covered. It’s thoroughly covered. I was perfectly fine not having a naturist perspective on this one, but I’ve been watching the Games this week and I do think I have a naturist perspective… or at least an observation that naturists can embrace. It’s about bodies. Olympic bodies.

I know what you’re probably thinking when I say “Olympic bodies.” You’re probably imagining the slim, toned, muscular bodies that are already elevated in society, nearly synonymous with terms like “perfect bodies” or “beach bodies.” And, sure, to a degree there have been an awful lot of those types of bodies racing and splashing and soaring across my television screen this past week. They are athletes at the peak of their ability and discipline after all, so of course they’re going to be, on average, much more physically fit than the rest of us. But that’s also not a fair and holistic assessment of the bodies at the Games. What I’m seeing are bodies of every shape and size, sorted into the events and disciplines that their bodies are apparently perfectly designed to dominate. Conversations and controversies just this year about female athletes with physical advantages over their competition have sparked larger discussions around what makes Olympic athletes great at their respective sports in the first place: Their uniquely formed and adapted bodies, their hormones, and their training. American swimmer Michael Phelps has stood out as a prime example of biological advantage, sporting a 6’7” wingspan, size 14 feet, and a resistance to lactic acid that allows his body to recover faster and endure greater stress. His body is literally made to swim faster than the rest of us. That’s why we tune in, isn’t it? To see bodies that can achieve great feats that the rest of us can’t?

Online controversies aside, take a look around at the bodies on the field, in the pool, or on the mats. There is no one body type, but an array of body types, heights, sizes, and makeups. From celebrated gold-medal athletes like American Simone Biles, who measures in at just 4’8” tall and is seemingly perfectly built for gymnastics glory, to Chinese women’s basketball player Zhang Ziyu, who towers over her competition at 7’3” and doesn’t seem to even need to jump to get the ball in the hoop. There are runners and jumpers who tend to be tall, with long legs and lean frames to achieve the greatest stride and the least resistance. There are shot-putters, weight-lifters, and rugby-players who tend to be bulkier, more muscular, with a mass that grounds them and a strength to move mountains. And then there’s every other type in between, each perfect for something else. It’s fascinating to watch these Games and see just how much the human body can be suited for specific sports, or how some sports seem to not favor any particular body type, that every body is built for some special thing, and that some things can truly be done by every body.

Add to that the existence of the Paralympic Games, which directly proceed the Olympic Games, demonstrating the perseverance of the human body and spirit even when hindered by physical limitations.

For these athletes, there is not one specific, perfect body to try to achieve, but a unique and perfect purpose for their body. I know it’s hard to compare ourselves in our doughy, sofa-sitting, regular-people bodies to these talented Olympians, and I am not recommending that we judge ourselves by these standards at all. But what I am suggesting is that we take the Games as an opportunity to recognize what our bodies are good at, what strengths we each have, what uniqueness we each carry with us. I’m suggesting that we show some appreciation for our own physical selves and that we remember not to pass judgment on others for what makes their bodies special, what their unique combination of bone structure and musculature and hormones and genetics has equipped them with. We cannot all be Olympic athletes, but we can at least respect and celebrate our differences, be they physical, cultural, or whatever else. That, to me, is part of what makes the Olympic Games so powerful: Uniting across boundaries, whatever they may be.

It’s amazing what the human body is capable of. Maybe not my body or your body specifically, but these bodies in general. No matter what body we were given, we each have a purpose, we can each achieve something special. I’ll be ruminating on that while I lounge here on my sofa Ancient Olympian-style (by which I mean naked), eating snacks and watching the Peacock coverage of the Games.

Enjoy the Games, everyone, and remind your body it’s cool and good at stuff, too!