Athletes and their faith. I’m a little jealous.

Have you been watching the Olympics? I have, and I’m in awe of the elite athletes — their epic wins, heartbreaking failures, and the unbridgeable distances that separate them from ordinary humans, even high-performing amateur athletes (which I consider myself to be!). You know how some people get excited at the chance to take a selfie with a famous politician, celebrity, or business magnate? I couldn’t care less about these categories of famous people. But I would love to spend time with famous athletes like Steph Curry, Jakob Ingebrigtsen, and Sydney McLaughlin. My list would be long.

I have immense respect for athletes. Their success is never just luck. Their stardom transcends politics, trends, or technological advances. Their performances are a raw demonstration of what we, as a species, are capable of physically.

But this post is about something else. Throughout most of my adult life, I’ve struggled with faith. I used to believe in God when I was young, but then I lost my faith. It was a gradual process; there wasn’t a specific event or experience that impacted my spirituality. I simply learned to accept life as it is. I accept my mortality, and reject the silly rituals that people follow to serve their gods; it also sickens me when people kill in the name of their spiritual fantasies and deities.