An observer of this world who reads, writes and occasionally does arithmetic
It’s that time again (Cue music).
The Olympics are about to begin and with it comes a new breed of athlete. The Armchair Olympian. You know who we/they are. The ones who become a highly trained sprinter, swimmer or javelin thrower for two weeks every four years. Something about the Olympics (is it the music that plays every 30 seconds during the shows airing that has us acting like Pavlov’s dogs?) makes the common person feel all energetic and athletic.
I’ve noticed some common traits among Armchair athletes of the world. Here are a few:
-We start walking taller and flexing our non existent muscles more when at work and in grocery store lines.
-We make a bee line to Sports Authority (or Target) for snazzy new work out gear in hopes the magical clothes will make our athletic prowess more noticeable.
-We hum the Olympic tune while in the shower replacing your favorite AC/DC song.
-We dig up old high school trophies, place them around the house and tell people you were this close to making the Olympic trials.
-We drop athletes names in everyday conversation when six months earlier we had no idea who they were. Makes us feel part of their tribe.
-We automatically stand up in our living rooms during medal ceremonies. (Some even get teary eyed and thank their imaginary fans)
I could go on but you get the picture.
I confess to being an Armchair Olympian and remember when I even went so far as to cut my hair like Dorothy Hammill even though I had never ice skated a day in my life. With that hair-do I knew I could learn to do figure tens.
So, in a few short weeks the music will start, athletes will strut their stuff and we will be transported to “That should be me staying in the Olympic Village-Land”.
Armchair Olympians, let us unite, hum the tune, flex flabby muscles and wear the title with pride.
Post Script-This NOT an Armchair Olympian.. Go Trainman, Go!!!