In the Spirit of the Olympics


It’s no newsflash that I am not an Olympian. I have never been good at any sports, even remotely close enough to be remotely competitive. I provide the following highlights of my experience with several sports to illustrate.

Best at not getting pulverized by guards twice my height in basketball. I honestly don’t know how I even made it to a varsity basketball team in high school. In my church league I wasn’t too horrible at rebounds and assists but the girls in that league were a great deal shorter and less likely to knock you out. Girls in varsity New York City public high school basketball are no joke. Seriously. Get some players on your zombie apocalypse team pronto.

Best at keeping a tidy softball score book. Another mystery is how I managed to play varsity high school softball for all three years of high school. I had an insanely high batting average because of the three times I got to bat, I hit the ball twice which gives one a very high average for being a completely suck-tastick player. I was, however, pretty kick-arse at keeping a very tidy score book.

Being actually pretty good at volleyball, only to be asked to be on the college b-team during literally my last class (gym) at college. The only sport I am decent at is volleyball. For one thing, I can actually see the ball. Softballs are too small and move too fast and tricksy-like, i.e. I’m in the outfield looking around for a dropped fly like Golum, “my precious, my precious.”  But volleyballs I can work with. I have a very mean overhand serve when I practice. The only reason I never did more with it was because I could never figure out when the season was and promptly kept forgetting about how much I liked to play, year after year. I was also fast enough to qualify for the alternate swim team in college but I can’t flip at the end of the lane without practically drowning so that was the end of that.

Finishing dead last in the 1986 Bellagio Bread run in Flushing Meadow Park. An elderly runner, probably four-times my age beat me. I was the absolute last one through. I’m surprised I ever ran again after that.

Although, those days are far, far behind me, I still like to get into the Olympic spirit and have devised some possibly competitive-like spins on my normal day-to-day activities.

Vacuu-curling. We really like our little Dyson City vacuum cleaner but it’s not quite as uber as our old Hoover. We knowingly traded the mechanically powered rug beater for the suck-powered rug beater which isn’t quite as powerful because it meant we could have a smaller vacuum cleaner that’s easier to handle on the stairs. Since we have three rugs it hasn’t been too much of a problem. However, you do have to go back and forth in little sweeps to get everything clean, hence vacuu-curling.

Commute-skating. Not every sidewalk has been shoveled correctly so on those blocks where I have to “skate” down, I just think of myself in some stretchy outfit and hope I demonstrate a minute fraction of gracefulness.

Grocery bag relay. This is a family event. The stairs leading down to our kitchen are narrow, steep, and not the sort you want to navigate while carrying a bag of groceries. We tackle this as a family. One hands each bag down to the other.

Kitty toy shot putt. There is an art to throwing the cat toy to just the right place and not under the furniture or into a shoe, which is funny but confuses the poor animals. This domestic event combines the animal aspect of equestrian events with track and field.

Of course, when anyone works out in the gym, your inner athlete comes out. It helps keep you going when things get tough but it’s fun to look at the every day tasks through a little more epic scope as well.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s