I gotta admit, watching the Olympics (since there aint shit else to watch! grrrr) brings up some mixed feelings.
1. It reminds me of being a senior in high school ('92) and going on a ski trip with fellow students. I'd always been a good skier, but having watched a snowboarding video on the busride up there...I decided to ditch the skis and rent a board and boots.
Problem was...way back then, they didn't have any girlie sized boots. Nor did they have mens boots sized small enough for me.
Well, I rented the boots closest to my size...took the lift to the top of the mountain...told myself, "Today is a good day to die..." and sent myself down the mountain.
I did this for the next three days...spending most of my time on my ass or on my knees in the snow waving at the people on the lift who had become familiar with me and my adventure in learning to snowboard.
On the last day, on my last run...as it always happens...I'd finally gotten good enough to get enough speed to actually hurt myself...which I did, re-breaking my wrist in the same 3 places as I had as a kid. This most likely due to being in early recovery from anorexia and having really brittle bones.
What warms my heart about this though...is seeing how women have edged their way into so many male dominated sports, just in the span of my lifetime. We've gone from not even manufacturing women's snowboarding boots to our women in the position to bring home olympic gold.
2. The other thing it makes me think of...knowing that in order to be olympic like they are...they must have made the decision to shoot for gold when they were just kids.
It reminds me of myself as a kid...I mean, does a kid really KNOW about the olympics? Do kids REALLY have it in them to shoot for gold? At 9 years old do they have the capacity to be brave enough to do something like that?
I did. Gymnastics.
Not only was I a natural...but I had that fire inside one would need to become a gold medalist. I took gymnastics at school and begged my mother to send me to a gymnastics camp a family friend was attending.
She wouldn't. Because as usual, she didn't give a shit about what her kids were interested in. Not that she had some kind of problem sending her kids off to camp for two months during the summer, she'd been doing it since we were 8 years old. She just didn't want to send me THERE.
I was heartbroken, but what can a kid that age do?
She excells in gymnastics at the camp she DOES get sent to. So much so that one summer the instructor ACTUALLY asked if I'd ever considered going pro!!!
I remember that feeling in my stomach...I had INDEED considered going pro...but had already been convinced that my hopes and dreams were not important enough...me, not good enough...not even to consider the possibility...
Sometimes I wonder if my life at that moment was blessed by that woman, to ask me such a thing? Did she give me back the hope that I could have been good enough at something I loved so much?
Or did she forever impress in my memory...that I indeed, COULD have been olympic...if only my mother had believed in me?
Either way, I suppose it's too late to be upset about such a thing now. But I guess it's no wonder that just last night I had a dream about punching my mother in the face...and it felt goooooooooooooooooood
1. It reminds me of being a senior in high school ('92) and going on a ski trip with fellow students. I'd always been a good skier, but having watched a snowboarding video on the busride up there...I decided to ditch the skis and rent a board and boots.
Problem was...way back then, they didn't have any girlie sized boots. Nor did they have mens boots sized small enough for me.
Well, I rented the boots closest to my size...took the lift to the top of the mountain...told myself, "Today is a good day to die..." and sent myself down the mountain.
I did this for the next three days...spending most of my time on my ass or on my knees in the snow waving at the people on the lift who had become familiar with me and my adventure in learning to snowboard.
On the last day, on my last run...as it always happens...I'd finally gotten good enough to get enough speed to actually hurt myself...which I did, re-breaking my wrist in the same 3 places as I had as a kid. This most likely due to being in early recovery from anorexia and having really brittle bones.
What warms my heart about this though...is seeing how women have edged their way into so many male dominated sports, just in the span of my lifetime. We've gone from not even manufacturing women's snowboarding boots to our women in the position to bring home olympic gold.
2. The other thing it makes me think of...knowing that in order to be olympic like they are...they must have made the decision to shoot for gold when they were just kids.
It reminds me of myself as a kid...I mean, does a kid really KNOW about the olympics? Do kids REALLY have it in them to shoot for gold? At 9 years old do they have the capacity to be brave enough to do something like that?
I did. Gymnastics.
Not only was I a natural...but I had that fire inside one would need to become a gold medalist. I took gymnastics at school and begged my mother to send me to a gymnastics camp a family friend was attending.
She wouldn't. Because as usual, she didn't give a shit about what her kids were interested in. Not that she had some kind of problem sending her kids off to camp for two months during the summer, she'd been doing it since we were 8 years old. She just didn't want to send me THERE.
I was heartbroken, but what can a kid that age do?
She excells in gymnastics at the camp she DOES get sent to. So much so that one summer the instructor ACTUALLY asked if I'd ever considered going pro!!!
I remember that feeling in my stomach...I had INDEED considered going pro...but had already been convinced that my hopes and dreams were not important enough...me, not good enough...not even to consider the possibility...
Sometimes I wonder if my life at that moment was blessed by that woman, to ask me such a thing? Did she give me back the hope that I could have been good enough at something I loved so much?
Or did she forever impress in my memory...that I indeed, COULD have been olympic...if only my mother had believed in me?
Either way, I suppose it's too late to be upset about such a thing now. But I guess it's no wonder that just last night I had a dream about punching my mother in the face...and it felt goooooooooooooooooood
oa55:
yeah... i have the "punch-momma" dream on a regular basis... feels good.
asitcomestome:
The winter oly's are a pretty big deal here in town. We hosted the 1988 winter olympics and most the Canadian athletes train here year round, so they become adopted Calgarians. The guys who won gold and silver in the skeleton event are from here. The gold winner is even a local fireman.