Those of you who know me in person know that I am not an athletic person. I may have mentioned this once or twice before on these pages. I do not enjoy working out or training for anything, and my competitiveness is limited to board games. I was once recruited for the high school downhill ski team, but only because I was a girl who could ski, and I distinctly remember sitting out most if not all of my races. DNS was my middle name (I now realize this was really short-sighted, but at 15 I had none of that wisdom or selflessness). I don’t enjoy team sports - physical or intellectual – and I don’t like to join things like clubs, leagues or groups of any kind. I dislike watching sports on t.v.
Every four years though, every four years I go a bit nuts. It hit its peak in 2006 for the Torino Winter Games, where I remember I was on a trip for work and actually retired between events to my hotel room to watch the Olympics. I remember lying on my hotel bed, all dressed up, glued to the Mens’ Downhill. Every four years I will regale whoever is in the room with me with my in-depth (not really) knowledge of speed skaters, various world cup downhill runs, trivia about athletes from other countries, the origins of the Nordic biathlon, and our chances against the Swedish hockey team. I become a completely obnoxious sports lunatic.
The winter Olympics are far superior to the summer Olympics. Purists and ancient Greeks will argue that there’s no better competition than who can run faster, or who can throw that stick the furthest, but I will say that there’s no better challenge than doing all of that on ice with blades on your feet or with a gun. I’m pretty sure your chances of death are much reduced when participating in the summer Olympics, though some of those marathoners look pretty close to it most of the time. Summer Olympics are short-and-wiry-person friendly, whereas you need height and weight on your bones to get any speed going on a downhill run. I will grant you that there are some thrilling summer Olympic sports; velodrome biking, motocross, mens’ swimming, and triathlon are all kind of fun to watch. But nothing lights my fire like watching a sleek and enormous Dutchman fly around a shiny ice track in a skin-tight orange suit, thighs growing before my eyes. In my mind athletes of the winter Olympics are giant Nordic machines, built for icy climes, descending from the hills every four years to make use of the ice and snow around them. They go faster, higher, more super-propelled than any summer Olympian. They fall spectacularly, and get up and go down the hill again, like Anja Paerson of Sweden did just yesterday. People ask “how did she not break in half when she fell on that downhill run?” and the answer is “she does this all the time. She knows how to fall and is 99% muscle.” A couple of months ago 19 year-old US speedskater JR Celski sliced open his leg with his own skate blade, cutting 6 inches across and two inches down into his thigh. When he pulled out the blade, he saw his own femur. He went on to race a few months later and won a bronze medal. See? Winter Olympians are made of tough stuff.
Take Luge, for instance. I know everyone talks about Luge in hushed tones since the death of the Georgian luger the day of the opening ceremonies. That accident highlighted what is truly scary about the winter Olympics – they are unforgiving. Luge is like kiddie tobogganing, only on the craziest steepest iciest hill ever on a steerable toboggan with blades. Then there’s skeleton. The braver kids on the toboggan hill do their runs on their stomachs, holding onto their crazy carpets with their mittens instead of their boots. When those kids grow up they can go 140 km/h on the skeleton run – face first. I love downhill skiing, but I rarely even drive my car as fast as those male downhillers race down the icy mountain. We always think “oooh that hill looks icy and hard” but actually, for a true downhill run, they inject water into the hill to make it harder. It’s icy on purpose. Does anyone remember Brian Stemmle’s crash? Don’t look it up, it will make you toss your cookies. These guys are inherently insane, and that just makes for amazing television.
So consider me a Winter Olympics junkie. Watching these world-class athletes in peak physical condition compete at the highest level in their sport gives me a good excuse to lay on my couch and eat pizza, which is ironic but true. The house is a mess, the dog feels neglected, and I am getting by on very little sleep, but man, do I love these Olympics. I have to go. I think there’s a Mens’ Super G on right now.
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