08.02.10
There is very barely I find more soul-satisfying than cuddling up in a fuzzy blanket on the tete- with endless plates of finger foods and hot drinks while watching athletic people cudgel one's brains themselves to the breaking point for pride and nation in sub-zero temperatures.
I catch on to I will never skate like Apollo Anton Ohno, mix the Russian hockey team in the underdog comeback of a lifetime, or bobsleigh like Gillian Cooke.
For this you should all be thankful because my backside, unlike that of Ms. Cooke, really should not get global distinction under any circumstances, wardrobe malfunction or not. I'm a food writer, for Pete's objectives. Generally, food writers are not widely known for their unbending rears but rather are firmly known for their wide rears.
I, for one, am totally OK with that. I say set the fitness bar low and you'll be sure to achieve your goals. Indirectly, my fain behavior is what makes the Olympics so impressive; thousands of Olympians working harder on perfecting the nuances of skiing, curling, snowboarding and image skating in one day than I will in my entire lifetime. It is for them that I sit on the couch and eat while they sweat and struggle: to make their magnificence even more noticeable. Who's with me?
Source: Traverse City Record Eagle