Now We Can Sleep - Olympics Conclude

My naturopath asked me last week if I watched the Olympics and he told me a funny story about one of his other patients. She came into the office and said, "I'm exhausted, I can't sleep."  When the doctor asked how he could help she said, "it's the darn Olympics, I just can't stop watching." The doctor said one quick cure for her insomnia would be . . . to turn off the TV! I laughed, but secretly sympathized with his other patient. How can one turn off the ladies' figure skating competition with only three women left to skate and the gold medal undecided? I don't want to get the news in the morning paper, I want to see it happen, and send my supportive viewing through the TV to the athletes on the primetime tape, as if my armchair striving could still help them achieve their goals.

So no more twizzles, 720's, or supercross. No more lining up with strangers at the gym to ogle the biathlon races, and no more mornings where children rip the newspaper out of my hand to get the latest medal count. I liked this Winter Olympics more than any other in recent memory because of the shift toward dynamic young sports like snowboarding and freestyle skiing, dominated by young people from around the world who know each other and seem overjoyed by a great performance - from anyone. There was a good line in a Denver Post editorial two days ago that commented on the joie de vivre and good sportsmanship that comes from these new sports: " 'If I couldn't win, I'm so glad that the gold medal went to her,' said no ballsports player ever," was the comment, because some young snowboarder gave credit to the woman who beat her.

It was great for my kids to see the athletes' delight with any good routine or trick, regardless of the placement. Fun to watch the freestyle skiers all jump on the one dude who got a bronze medal and extremely touching to see the French freestyle skier give tribute to the young lady from the US who died a few years ago in a skiing accident. Gratifying in the extreme was a moment with William when we watched a highlight reel of Meryl and Charlie winning gold for ice dance. "They look just about perfect," I said, and he responded, "no one is perfect." He learned that perfection was not the goal, rather a job done to the best of your ability, after hours and hours of hard work. I'll sleep (well) on that tonight.