Sporty Spice

The Olympics come to an end tomorrow, and I admit they've been a wonderful distraction these last two weeks. The competition, the athletes, the camaraderie, the glitches, the drama, the tape-delayed events, the avoiding everything internet to not find out the results during the day, the new Tivo fast forwarding through commercials (and much of ice dancing), the crazy outfits, the really bad figure skating music selections, all those foreign accents, the tears, the joy, Bob Costas' super-dark hair, Mary Carillo's envious job as a human interest reporter doing all that fun stuff in Canada, all the white people (and Shani Davis) competing on ice and snow...

But perhaps the very best part of these games was watching them with my BFF, Sarah, who came to visit last week with Owen, her sweet 2-year old boy. It never seems to change with us - all the evolving geography and history and life choices aside - we are still the same. It was a peaceful time to have her near, watching her be a mother, talking during nap time, watching Olympics after the boy (and the man) went to bed, nodding off next to each other on the sofa at night, coming to and refocusing on whatever Olympic event was occurring. Yes, there was some zoo and some shopping and some wedding prep, too, but mostly it was just a lot of being under the same roof, and that was really nice.

I get pretty excited about sports sometimes: the Olympics, always, and then baseball playoffs, once a year. It's the competition, of course, the suspense of who will pull it off, the total insignificance of sports in the big picture of life but how for a time the training and the trying can mean everything, be everything. I love it so much because I think I miss those days when sports was all that for me - there was nothing bigger than practice and a competition...until there was. I loved to compete and to win and to train, I loved to feel sick to my stomach before a race, I loved to race and to beat competitors, I loved to rely upon my own body and my own training to accomplish very specific goals - until I decided that there was more to life to this - there was love and death and art. So I quit sports, to focus on these "more important" things.

Whether or not that was a good decision, I made it once upon a time, and today I still appreciate the dedication of athletes because I once was one. Sports taught me a lot, and perhaps the best lesson was that I can always improve if I work harder. Even so, I tend to forget that a lot.

Sarah made me this poster when we used to swim together, 16 years ago (!), and it read "If it is to be, it is up to me" - I had it hung in my bedroom for years, next to my medals and a picture of Summer Sanders. We recalled that while she was here, and all the other phrases we used to say to psych ourselves up before a race, and half a lifetime later we catch up or have comfortable silences, we watch her son run around and clean the kitchen after dinner, and we get really excited when the USA wins.