The last two weeks, I've been hopelessly addicted to the Olympics. It happens every time; somehow in the years in between I forget how much these contests draw you in. The drama, the glory, the amazing story telling of the featured athletes, the cultural clashes, the subtext, the suspense - you stand no chance! Every day, I DVR the four hours of prime time, and start watching it around 8 or 9, when I've wrapped up my to-do list for the day. I never finish, merely I give into sleep on my couch around 11:30, and wake up sleepy the next day. Only to repeat. Last week, obviously Michael Phelps dominated the headlines. Last night, the amazing accomplishment of USA women's volleyball gold medal match. Tonight, the horror of both the USA's mens and womens' track team dropping the baton in the relay. And throughout, the inescapable draw of gymnastics. A bit of a surprise this go-around -- the pommel horse captivated me. Seriously, how do they do that? And, the rings? And every thing the women do - I don't get how it's even humanly possible. But it is! It's amazing!
I read stories in ESPN magazine and others leading up to this. Stories about how athletes train for years, even for a 10 second competition. Stories about overcoming devastating injury, burning lungs gasping for breath, muscles straining for one last push to get the edge. The lifelong sacrifices these athletes and their families make... well, it all got me to thinking a little bit.
You see, I've been working all stupid summer long to comfortably run 3 miles. My boyfriend and I have registered for 2 races, and for various reasons out of our control, we've had to cancel each. My goal was to run with him, and he runs 3 miles easily and at least two minutes faster than I. Regardless, I never seemed to even get to 3 miles comfortably. But, lo and behold, the Olympics! After reading the stories, watching the strain, and sharing the glory, somehow it took hold within my own body. Magically, my body learned to suck it up. I tell myself, this is nothing! I mean, Michael Phelps swims 5 miles a day (and gets to eat 10,000 calories!). Now, I run like a gazelle - for me. Painful and slow for any actual runner. For these two glorious weeks, the Olympics have motivated me to dig deep, push through and see it through to the end.
It's quite sad this is referencing merely a 3 mile run. I mean, I do work out often, but have never been much of a jogger, much less a runner. But now I'm all cocky and am starting to think of 6 miles - a 10K! I've run that before, I can do it now right? And, aiming high - what about a half marathon? I can do it! The Olympics have me believing!! Will it all go away with the upcoming closing ceremony? Shawn Johnson goes home, and I lub through a mile and no further? I hope not. Maybe I'll dream of Bob Costas interviewing me, asking how I got through 6, or 13 miles... or 3... and it will keep me going until the next Olympics in 2010. One can only hope!
