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At the 2012 Olympics we enjoyed Super Saturday. This weekend in Rio was Sensational Sunday. A stunning collection of performances across cycling, gymnastics, tennis, golf by Team GB. In post competition interviews, I’ve been struck this year more than others that we’ve heard a lot about the sacrifices made not only by the athletes but by their families; children who don’t see their father at Christmas, Mums or Dads who get a phone call from their far away daughter on their birthday. And we have learned, especially since lottery funding transformed the prospects of our team, to call these athletes elite. But the debate continues, not least on this programme yesterday morning, about what connection there is between the activity of elite Olympic and Paralympic athletes and our, what we might call, civilian participation. Will we become a fitter population as a result of 2012 and 2016? The jury’s still out. This question underpins funding decisions for local sports facilities. But the legacy question also touches on a more emotional challenge. Many of us as adults tell stories of our schooldays; either being the last to be picked for sports teams or being thrown out of the school choir. Of course much of that happened but I also think that sometimes we tell these stories as coded ways of expressing as an adult our anxiety about failing that we learned when we were very young. They’re ways of letting someone else know that we have good reason to be afraid – and that’s why we don’t sing or don’t run or don’t like maths. When I sit on my sofa eyes streaming with tears, watching the incomparable and seemingly joyful Usain Bolt, it doesn’t naturally get me to jog around my local park. But there is something about the spirit of elite sportspeople that is also to be found in the best spiritual practice too. What we are seeing in Olympic finals is the culmination of a training process that has taught these athletes to fail many times before they succeed. Being afraid to fail is what prevents many of us from trying something new, putting ourselves out on a limb. It often stops us singing, running, working for an exam or telling a joke in company. Fear of failure can also stop us trying to pray. Just in case nothing happens. Just in case we feel foolish. Just in case we make a mess of it. Even if I don’t pick up my badminton racquet or running shoes as a direct result of watching the amazing Olympics, I hope that at a deeper level, I will take inspiration from people who have clearly learned the hard way to put themselves on the line, to give it all they’ve got before they give up. People who have learned not to be afraid to try, and even in the midst of going for gold, not being afraid to fail.