Name the professional athletes you respect the most and why.
I could name drop an Olympian here to answer this, but truthfully? I couldn’t care less. Respect isn’t earned because you can run 100m faster than the next person or cash in on a Nike deal. Respect, for me, is much quieter.
I respect the people who live life without applause. The ones who don’t have coaches and sponsorships but still show up day after day, whether that’s dragging themselves to work on four hours sleep, or holding families together when they’re running on fumes. The ones who say no when they need to, even if it costs them.
Running a marathon with the world cheering you on is one thing. Dragging yourself through the mental marathon of keeping your shit together when no one notices? That’s something else. That’s strength.
I run the odd 5k when I can be arsed. My legs hurt, my lungs burn, I swear at myself, and still I choose it. But what about the people who don’t get a choice? The ones clocking into jobs that drain them, working for scraps while fat cat CEOs grow richer? They keep going. That’s the endurance I respect.
Respect isn’t always about who crosses the finish line first. Sometimes it’s about who keeps showing up, even when no one’s watching, no one’s clapping, and no one’s handing out medals at the end.
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Thirty Something Plus VAT 