Stadium at Olympia

Listen to the ground first. The track under your feet is packed earth, pale and slightly soft, and it gives a little with every step. Around you rise long, grassy banks instead of marble seats. In summer the cicadas in the pine trees make a constant, dry buzzing. The air smells of warm dust and resin. There is no roof and no shade on the track itself. This is one of the oldest sporting grounds in the world, and it still looks like a field.

You probably came in through the tunnel. That vaulted stone passage is called the krypte, which simply means the hidden or covered way. It was built in the Hellenistic era, the period after Alexander the Great, when Greek culture spread across the eastern Mediterranean. Athletes and judges walked through it to reach the track. Imagine the moment they stepped out of the cool, dark arch into hard sunlight and the noise of tens of thousands of people. Most visitors pass through in a few seconds. It is worth pausing there.

Before you reach the tunnel, look along the path at the row of stone bases. These held the Zanes, bronze statues of Zeus. Here is the surprising part — they were paid for with fines. Athletes who cheated, bribed rivals, or broke the rules had to fund a statue. Their names were often recorded on the base. So the last thing a competitor saw before the race was a line of reminders of public shame. It was a very direct lesson in honesty.

Now look down the length of the track. It is long and narrow, and there is no curve at either end. The ancient footrace called the stadion was a straight sprint from one end to the other. The distance was close to two hundred metres. Legend has it that the hero Heracles measured it himself, pacing out six hundred of his own feet. Our modern word stadium comes from this race, and from this kind of place.

Tradition dates the first recorded Olympic Games to 776 BCE. According to that tradition, the winner was a cook named Koroibos, from the nearby region of Elis. For many years, this short sprint was the only event. Other races, wrestling, boxing, chariot racing and the pentathlon came later. Historians treat the earliest dates with some caution. But the link between this valley and the Games is not in doubt. For more than a thousand years, athletes came here every four years.

The stadium you see was not the first one. Earlier tracks lay closer to the sacred buildings of the sanctuary, near the great Temple of Zeus. Over time the track was moved east and enlarged. That change placed the sports ground a little apart from the temples and altars. The Games were always religious festivals, held in honour of Zeus. Yet the move suggests that the contests were becoming a large public spectacle in their own right.

Walk to one end and look at the ground. You will find a long line of stone slabs set into the earth. These are the starting lines, and they also served as finishing lines, because some races went back and forth. Look closely and you will see two parallel grooves cut along the stone. Runners placed their toes in these grooves. There were also posts to divide the lanes. It is one of the most human details on the whole site.

Now turn to the banks. Spectators sat or stood on the grass, packed together in the heat. Estimates suggest the stadium could hold around forty thousand people. There was little water and almost no shade. Ancient writers complained about the crowds, the dust and the flies. Still, people travelled from across the Greek world to be here. During the Games, a sacred truce allowed athletes and visitors to travel safely, even when their cities were at war.

On the south bank, look for the remains of a raised stone platform. This was the seat of the judges, known as the Hellanodikai, which means the judges of the Greeks. They wore purple robes and came from Elis, the city that ran the sanctuary. Their decisions were final. Opposite, on the north bank, stood an altar to the goddess Demeter. Her priestess had a special privilege. She was the only married woman allowed to watch the Games.

That leads to a hard fact about this place. Married women were banned from watching, and the athletes competed naked. Locals still tell the story of Kallipateira, a mother who disguised herself as a trainer to watch her son. According to the tale, she was discovered when she leapt the barrier to celebrate his victory. She was forgiven, but afterwards trainers also had to appear naked. Women did have their own separate festival here, the Heraia, with footraces for unmarried girls.

The Games continued under Roman rule, and emperors sometimes took part. They came to an end in the late fourth century of the common era, traditionally linked to the Christian emperor Theodosius. Later, floods and earthquakes buried much of the sanctuary under thick layers of mud and sand. The stadium disappeared from view for centuries. German archaeologists excavated it in the twentieth century and restored the banks to their ancient shape. What you are walking on today is the result of that careful work.

One more surprise. In 2004, when the Olympic Games returned to Greece, this ancient track hosted a modern event. The shot put competition was held here, with spectators sitting on these same grassy banks. It was a deliberate link across nearly three thousand years. Many visitors also like to run the length of the track themselves. If you do, take it gently. The surface is uneven, the sun is strong, and the race was never meant to be easy.

Before you leave, stand still for a moment in the middle of the track. Look at the low hills around the valley and the dark green of the pines. Notice how quiet it is now, with only footsteps and the cicadas. As you walk back through the stone tunnel, feel the change from heat to shade. Thousands of runners made that same short walk. Now you have made it too.