The Olympian Within

So the Olympics are wrapping up this weekend in Torino, and I thought it would be a good opportunity to reflect upon the games, allow myself to get a little sentimental, and to celebrate my own ‘gold medal’ tendencies.

The games are always a chance to explore emotions. The ethicist in me questions the overbearing commercial side of the games, yet the gooey, soft-hearted dreamer in me eats up the drama of a close finish- the intensity of the victorious, the tragedy of second place. I enjoyed experiencing the passion of the cross-country skiers sprinting across the finish lines and collapsing with exhaustion. This repeatedly reduced me to a sentimental baby- ‘they train years and years for that one race’… sniff, sniff. You don’t want to see the sorry sight that I become when the anthem gets played.


This effortless emotionality, that reduces grown men to tears, raised some interesting questions. Is it healthy for me to live vicariously through all these men in spandex? Should I get off my couch and start training for my curling career? With my chances of becoming an Olympian quickly extinguishing like the Olympic torch (excuse the bad simile), I have begun to search other ways that I can celebrate my excellence.

In exploring the ‘Olympian Within’, I have come up with some key realizations of excellence. I am the king of mastication, digestion, and regular bowel movements, I am a gold medalist at growing protrusive nose hair, and I am the master of walking & breathing… while not falling down!

I don’t need to travel halfway across the world to be a winner, I feel like an Olympian all the time when I’m jogging in the park. It happens especially toward the end of my run when I imagine that there’s a finish line 50 meters ahead of me and I roast by a little old lady with a walker. Ah, the sweet taste of gold.

So congratulations Canada for winnings some medals. We set some new records, represented ourselves honourably (men’s hockey excluded), and have begun to build excitement for Vancouver in 2010. And even if I’m not chuckin’ rocks down the ice with the Canadian curling team, I will be there with tear ducts ready and the knowledge that, I too, am an Olympian.





Some key observations I made while watching the games:

Hippest sport: Snowboarding (smoke a jay, win a medal, then chillax)
Most bizarre sport: Biathlon (at what point did skiing and guns mix?)
Craziest sport: Skeleton (100 km/hour on a blade of steel? No thanks!)
Most intimate sport: Two-Man Luge (is that a banana in your pocket?)
'Last shot at the Olympics' Sport: Curling (…my only hope at the glory)