Olympic Junkie
Written by Jen Thursday, 25 February 2010 14:56
Blog
We are Olympic junkies.
The thrill of victory. The agony of defeat. The wonder of Bob Costas' shirt-jacket-tie combination. It's all the talk in our household. Homework? Calculus is not as important as the men's downhill. Bedtime? Stay up to watch the hockey finals. My husband maps out each round of curling (yes, it's true) and my daughter can recite mogul requirements and qualifying times with little effort. From the opening ceremonies to the moment the torch is extinguished, we live and breathe the Olympic dream.
Maybe it's because my husband and I had Olympic dreams of our own. While he sported the nickname "Bruce" (as in Jenner) and achieved fleeting high school fame as a sprinter, I dreamt of the 1984 Winter Games in Sarajevo. Oh yeah. I'd skate the perfect long program while longtime rival Katarina Witt waited back ice. Later, I'd pal around with Torvill and Dean in the Olympic village.
Admittedly, my figure skating stint was limited to five years and my only achievement was a perfect axel landed twice, once rotating in the wrong direction. I could do a lovely sit spin, until the last part when I actually sat down. But hey, that dream was a motivator. It kept me going through pre-teen angst and teenage trauma. Every kid should have a dream.
As luck would have it, I did meet Katarina Witt a few years later, while working as a press corps volunteer at the 1987 World Figure Skating Championships. And while Torville and Dean and I were never on a first-name basis, I glimpsed them at this same venue. And I was lucky enough to ride the athlete transport bus alongside future Soviet skating champs Ekaterina Gordeeva and Sergei Grinkov. Still fastened to my skate bag-which sits moldering on a basement shelf-is my one tangible souvenir from the week, a kangaroo pin procured from an Australian skater in exchange for an American flag pin.
Ok, so the Olympic thing didn't work out quite the way my 13-year-old self had planned. I certainly didn't anticipate the artificial hip that would leave me snarling at the television during the 2002 Salt Lake City Games. ("Somebody warn Michelle Kwan about this, please!") But like so many youngsters bound and determined, I did learn hard work and breathless determination and an appreciation for a sport I can still enjoy from afar. Plus, I can explain the difference between a flip jump and a toe loop to my daughter. The athleticism and sheer determination of the athletes is inspiring. The men in sequins and the bizarre aboriginal costumes not so much.
On Sunday the games will conclude with much fanfare. My kids, runners and martial arts enthusiasts, will look forward to London 2012. Their lives will be much different then. Hopefully they'll take the time to appreciate the wonder of this mammoth competition.Their parents? We pray we are still here, surrendering our souls for just a time to swimming and gymnastics. Curling will have to wait until Sochi 2014.