If you know me, you know I’m no sports fan. I can’t tell a foul ball from a touchdown or a body check from a birdie. Yet somehow, I find myself glued to the Olympics for a couple of weeks every four years. Not that I understand the rules or how the scoring works. The other day I watched a judo match just because one of the athletes was a Canadian and contending for the bronze. To me, the two grownup competitors looked like a couple of toddlers going at each other. But, whatever. The Canadian won, so I cheered.
Speaking of toddlers, have you watched the skateboarding competition? I shudder while athletes as young as 13 perform extremely dangerous stunts. My mama heart kicks in. Who lets their babies do this? Why aren’t helmets mandatory?
I also watched the synchronized diving off the high platform with trembling heart. Eye-yi-yi. I can’t even fathom standing up there, let alone walking to the brink, then turning around to stand tippy-toe with my heels hanging over the edge. And yet, like witnessing a car accident, I can’t tear my eyes away from the scene.
I watched Maude Charron lift 131 kilograms over her head to win gold for Canada, then I shed tears when she stood on the podium as our anthem played. As if I had anything to do with anything. Athletic women intimidate me at the best of times, so I can only imagine how I’d act around one who could pick me up and toss me like the bag of chips I’m eating while I watch.
Of course, the “artsier” sports like gymnastics, synchronized swimming, or figure skating in winter are always my first pick. Which do you like best? If you could become an Olympic athlete, which sport would draw you? If you could create your own event, what would it be? I laughed the other day when a local radio DJ suggested “Red Rover.”
If my writing world had Olympics, these weekly blog posts would be the sprints. A novel would be a marathon. The research portion would be diving into a deep pool, while thinking about my story between writing sessions feels like weightlifting. Battling with procrastination, self-doubt, and lack of motivation compares to boxing, judo, and wrestling.
Helping design a cover feels like artistic gymnastics. Developing the back cover copy is like a basketball game—lots of rim shots before the ball finally goes through the hoop. Getting the book to publication resembles a triathlon relay as it’s handed off to agents, editors, printers, and distributors and each runs their own leg of the race. The promotional and marketing efforts seem a bit like the same four advertisements CBC plays over and over between coverage—interesting at first, but soon everyone’s sick and tired of it. Negative reviews or low sales numbers will put me on the “also ran” list, while receiving the occasional award feels like standing on that podium—minus the national anthem and several million viewers.
Maybe I’m more of an athlete than I thought.
What’s YOUR non-sporty Olympic event?
“Don’t you realize that in a race everyone runs, but only one person gets the prize? So run to win!” (I Corinthians 9:24)
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