I ran through my mental Rolodex of sports commercials, most of them funny ESPN SportsCenter clips that featured some star athlete putting his name in for the Razzie Awards. But then I remembered one during the London Olympics that hit so close to home that I still know almost every line by heart:
And this photo, among others, is why these 63 seconds are my favorite sports ad ever.
I entered college carrying 220 pounds on my frame. Though I was a decent badminton player in high school, I could never move around very quickly, and my stamina could barely outlast my mom's. And, of course, came all the drinking at parties, liquid calories that I had never consumed nor considered in high school. Top that with taking on the "all-you-can-eat" slogan at dining halls as a challenge, and by my third year of college, I had ballooned up to 255. For comical reference, LeBron James weighed 250 at the time. Based on that comparison, I, too, should've been able to single-handedly carry an NBA team to the finals. But alas, I was capable of nothing more than sitting on my couch, eating too many late-night burgers from Jack-in-the-Box. I couldn't even justify it by saying I was studying hard, because I really wasn't. I loved my music and literature classes, of course. However, for my science classes, I largely screwed around, crammed my butt off for exams, and miraculously passed. The rest of my time was spent wasted in front of the TV set, french fries in one hand, GameCube controller in the other. "Unhealthy" didn't even begin to describe the lifestyle I had chosen.
Then, in spring of my senior year, I hurt my back. Ironically, it happened while I was trying to get in better shape. While doing weighted squats at the gym, I suddenly felt a sharp shooting "pop" down my lower back and my right buttock. I thought I had strained a muscle, but after two weeks of rest with no improvement whatsoever, I went to see one of the school's sports medicine doctors. A quick yet painful physical exam told him that that the "pop" at the gym was likely my intervertebral discs popping out and pressing on my spinal cord, causing the shooting pain down my back and thigh every time I flexed my hip. He drew some blood and referred me to get an MRI.
At my next visit with Dr. D, I had one of those life-altering conversations that you only see in self-help infomercials. "Dude, I'm gonna be straight with you. I'm looking at these lab results and your MRI, and here's what I see: you're a 22-year-old with the body of a 70-year-old. You have three - three - spinal disc herniations, your blood pressure is sky high, none of your lipid tests are within normal limits, and your blood sugar is in pre-diabetic range. Get your shit together. You're a smart kid with a great future ahead - don't let it go to waste."
Five years later, I'm now much healthier in every measurable aspect. But one thing that never goes away is the mental struggle. For those not metabolically gifted, such as myself, the daily fight to keep ourselves from falling back into that hole is very difficult. This is especially true for me now, considering the amount of time that I'm spending studying for school. The worst part is that it's just so easy to fall back into the trap. I know the addictive properties of food intimately. When those salts and fats and sugars hit my palate, my brain is evolutionarily programmed to want more. My body's metabolism is designed to pack as much energy as possible. Unlike street drugs, the high we get from food is a completely natural, typically beneficial process. Unfortunately, no part of chugging a 64 oz. Slurpee is illegal. And the cost? All I have to do is rummage around my couch cushions for a few minutes. It's just too easy. That's why the struggle never ends, especially for someone who loves the experience of eating as much as I do.
Back when this Nike commercial aired, many took up their pens and grilled Nike for exploiting a young boy, mocking his unhealthy image for cheap points. I vehemently disagree. Twelve-year-old Nathan here is doing exactly what all the overweight children in America should be doing. More importantly, Nike's message is clear: anyone can do it. Not being good enough to play professionally does not preclude you from playing at all. Something is better than nothing.
America is a culture of now. We want the easy, magic bullet pill that will make us look like Hollywood stars in a week. We don't want to put in the effort because the reward is too far away. It's just too hard, and there's no glory in it.
Listen, the greatness and the glory will come. No, it won't come in the form of a shiny trophy and corporate sponsorship. It comes in smaller ways, like confidence and being more comfortable in your own skin. It comes in noticing that you can move around the badminton court much faster. It comes in knowing that you stand a much greater chance of seeing your kids walk down the aisle. Greatness is defined by you.
The human spirit is a damn hard thing to break, and when it's on fire, my God, you better stand back.
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