You had me at Sochi

I was prepared to write another cynical blog post, something like my scathing rundown of the Superbowl.  This one was going to tear the Olympics apart and make fun of the whole thing, from the Opening Ceremony, through the costumes of skaters, and finally really lay in to the absurdity of the biathlon. (Ski, ski, ski, lie down, shoot, get up ski.  Really???)  I was very concerned, and still am, about the security of the athletes, and their families.  I was, and still am outraged by Putin's stance against the LGBT community.

But I can't write the piece I thought I was going to write.
Because I'm completely sucked in.

Yes.  Riveted, addicted, and glued to the games.

I have not watched every event, not by a long shot, but I have really enjoyed what I have watched, and fallen a little bit in love with each person, as I hear his or her story and and watch the mini-drama as it unfolds.

I didn't love the opening ceremony.  The pageantry was too much, and I felt it was too long. I didn't like seeing Putin sitting there, not reacting, with an uncanny resemblance to Dr. Evil. (I still see it, when they show him at the various events, and you will see it too.  No smiles, no excitement.  He is NOT a guy I'd want to go for cocktails with.)

"Tiny little 'laser beams' on their heads."

I have never been such a big fan of the winter Olympics before, but maybe it's because of the winter we are having here in New Jersey.  We have so much ice on our front walk and driveway that I can barely make it to my car without slipping and falling...how on EARTH do those men and women glide so effortlessly across the ice, twirling, swizzle-sticking, doing ballet, jumping and leaping and turning themselves into human dreidels?

Yes, that's what it must be... each of these athletes is competing and excelling in a sport that I cannot even do just a little bit.  I cannot ice skate.  That was not something we did back in my growing up years.  There was a roller rink, where I went once, and was helped around the place a few times by a handsome guy named Gino on a group date when I was 15.  But that's it.

The same goes for skiing.  I realize I may come off looking particularly non-sport-y as I share all this, but I have gone skiing exactly twice.  Cross-country skiing once, too hard, too cold and kind of boring.  And downhill once, where I was THE only one in the beginner class told NOT to go out onto the mountain.  I spent the day in the lodge by the fire drinking coffee and reading a book while my family had fun on the slopes.

So when I see these skiers and snow-boarders doing amazing tricks, or going 80 miles an hour down a hill, I am just in awe.  And some of them are wearing just a leotard!  I'm sure you've seen them.  They wear the layer I wear under my clothes just to walk to the car to go to work.  They fly down the mountain, or around the half-pipe, while I am not sure I can walk to the curb without taking a header.

They are super men and women.

Like I said, I didn't want to love these games.  With Russia's openly anti-gay stance I was ready to boycott. Yes, I was going to boycott (how they'd miss me) but these amazing young and not-so-young athletes are risking their bodies, dedicating their lives and flying around the world, I figured the least I can do is watch them.  And cheer them on.  And wait to see if anyone will take a brave stand and raise a rainbow flag on the podium.

And besides, after watching night after night, I'm an expert judge.  Aren't you?  Tara Lipinski and I can call the figure skating like nobody's business.  I can tell you if someone's going to nail a triple axel before they even land.  I've watched so much of the men's and women's half pipe, and I can tell you what a YOLO trick is. 

There are a few sports I've missed, such as hockey, and skeleton, which appears to be the backwards luge. I have to say I missed Bob Costas, who left the helm of the ship with pink-eye, but has finally returned.

Looks pretty pink, I'd say, Bob.

There was also a big to-do about the Russian speed skater who unzipped the top of her skating outfit when she crossed the finish line.  Apparently she forgot she had nothing on underneath.  That's a big thing to forget, but I guess when you are winning a gold medal for your country, you get a little crazy.

Hello World.

I haven't even looked at a medal count during these games. I'll be relieved when the athletes all come home safe and sound, maybe bruised from the mountain, but safe from any blast of a suicide bomb or explosion from a terrorist making a statement.  I know people say that we have to put aside our differences and come together for these two weeks of sports.  But I think its our differences that make us fun and make us interesting to one another.  It's learning to accept and play nice with our differences that should be what the Olympics are all about.  The athletes probably get that.  Maybe someday the governments and leaders will too.

And now, I'll get back to my front-steps-of-death and try to take my dogs for a walk.  I may do a double-toe loop followed by a jump off the bottom step, but it won't be on purpose.

Real scenes from my front-steps of death, taken by my frozen-mittened hand holding an iPhone and two dogs on leashes.  I win at least a bronze in the suburban Olympics!