I often wonder what is the point in being the best, especially the best in guiness book stuff. As if one had to proove that he is unique by licking his elbow… To me this is an absurdity. I feel the same about some sports and other kinds of competitions. I can understand the happiness and feeling of achievement that Phelps or Bolt had, but I cannot avoid asking what is the point. Though I hate to loose and tend to boast everytime I win at any games, I cannot understand their quests of being the best. How can one be ready to dedicate a part of his life to running 0.1 s. faster?
To me, this video illustrates perfectly the absurdity of such a quest. This is not beautiful at all, it is the at the opposite of any art creation, it is just about mechanical useless training. This exploitation of our bodies to constantly improve our performances make me think about men turning slightly into machines, only interested in their “productivity”.
Weel as you guess I woke right afterwards, but man! I still have purple hazes all in my brain! I mean, that was so beautiful. If only the magic could have lasted a bit longer. Just a bit longer… Who knows all the wonders I could have discovered?
