Change Comes in Pieces

I wrote this post in 2012 for the alumni site of Adventures in Missions (AIM), the short-term missions program for young adults that I participated in straight out of high school. AIM gave me incredible experiences and lifelong friends. Alas, the alumni site did not give me a storage place for my words. This piece came up in my Facebook memories a few days ago, but when I clicked through to re-read, I got an error message and then remembered that the alumni site is no more. 

Since I don't want a perfectly good 700 words to go to waste, I'm reposting it with a few tweaks but no updates that bring us to present day. So here's a bit of time travelling back to Austin during London 2012.

In the last 24 hours, I’ve watched 14 different sports. Right now, I’m flipping between three channels on my TV and two live feeds on my computer, and I have TV Guide, NBC Olympics, and London 2012 windows also open so I won’t miss anything. You might say I’m a fan.

My earliest Olympic memory is of fellow (eventually) Longhorn Mary-Lou Retton in ’84, but it wasn’t until ’88 that I understood that these mysterious Olympics were something special. And like everybody else, I couldn’t have been more into ’92. The Dream Team. The Unified Team. Kristi Yamaguchi and Viktor Petrenko. Dan and Dave. Janet Evans. Kim Zmeskal. It was an amazing year.

And then it got better, I thought—the IOC separated the Winter and Summer Games into different years, so we had an oh-so-short wait before the next Winter Games. I was delighted at first, but the closing ceremonies had more of a sense of finality than usual, because there were no forthcoming Summer Games. A two-year gap didn’t seem so short any longer.

In some ways, the Olympics are better than ever because each set of Games gets its own year, without the world’s attention being divided between the two. But the price for making both versions more special was that The Olympics as a whole have lost some of their mystery. The rarity and sense of occasion is diminished when the Olympic rings never vanish from Coke cans and McDonald’s wrappers. A little bit of the excitement and anticipation is lost, because it’s always an Olympic year.

But why should my post-AIM life make me think of the Olympics? In many ways, my time in Scotland was no different from anyone else’s field time: I learned. I grew. My personal horizons broadened. More importantly, my spiritual life expanded as the bounds I had placed on what God could do were dissolved again and again. But my heart broke into pieces.

There’s a gorgeous story about Dr. David Livingston, one of the pioneers of western missionaries to Africa. His compatriots in Scotland wanted to give his body a proper burial in the country of his birth, but the African people he had devoted his life to were not wild about the idea. Their ultimate solution was to send Dr. Livingston’s body back, but keep his heart. Why? “His heart belongs in Africa,” they said.

Yes. This. Exactly.

As short-term missionaries, we left our hearts behind when we came home. But I’ve found that two years of my life wasn’t sufficient for Glasgow to have all of my heart. There’s a piece of my heart at Spring Mill Bible Camp, my teenage safe haven. Bits of my heart live in Denver City, where I spent so much time as an AIM student and assistant, and at South Plains Church of Christ, where Chadwick and I were members for 8 years. Slivers of me sit at South Plains College and the University of Texas. You’ll find pieces of my heart with Chadwick at our little apartment on the edge of Austin and at workplaces like BikeTexas and the Wound Care Center. Even more bits of my heart are scattered across the planet right now, attached to people I love who have touched my life and left me as a better person. A better follower of Jesus. Better able to love the next person I meet.

Maybe that’s why, even as a mere observer, I feel such an affinity with the Olympic Games: not just because of the passion and dedication of the athletes, not just because of the excitement and joy and emotion of giving one’s whole self to a single moment. It’s because despite the storms, through some horribly wrong days and because of wonderfully right ones, and in contact with many hearts and minds, the Games change, and grow, and keep striving to be better.

Don’t be afraid of scattering your heart. Don’t shy away from leaving pieces of yourself behind. It hurts when your heart breaks, but that pain is not worth comparing to the glory that awaits us at the time when we will again be made whole.

Zoom!

That's the sound I'm going to make when I'm running on the Speedway on Saturday. Of course, I'll have to say it aloud, because my running is less "zoom" and more "plod," but whatever. Going slower just means I have more time to line up to high-five Meb, amirite?

I'm just gonna go get another set of these Saturday.

Seriously. If I manage to get a Meb-five, I don't even care if I break my leg on the next turn and have to be carried back via the nearest hospital. That's really all I'm going for.

So! Less than a week to go until my second running of the Indy Mini. As I did for El Paso, I'm guessing my final 12-mile training run time is likely to be close to my race day finishing time. I was a bit slower than that in El Paso, but here's the thing about Indianapolis--it's flatter than the flattest of pancakes. Unlike everywhere I look in Cincinnati, the closest thing the Indy Mini has to a hill is the ramp up to the Speedway. Where Meb will be. I think I got this.

This will be my 61st race and my 9th half marathon. There's nothing particularly significant about those numbers (except, hey! That's where all my money goes), but since I went to the trouble to look them up, I decided to share. You know what's going to be sad about this race? No one following me on a bike. So... anybody wanna come be my portable cheering section? It's flat!

Let's do this, Indy.

Sarah

I'm sure that S-names are not uncommon in this, but I get called "Sarah" a lot, because Sarah and Susan both start with 'S', because they're both fairly common names, same number of syllables, etc., etc. Once I started answering to 'Sarah', I realised that I'd lost the battle.

Sarah Jane Smith, played by Elisabeth
Sladen. Taken from us far too soon.
Source.

Sarah
Hebrew word for "princess." Very Biblical. Peaked in 1993 in the US as the 3rd most popular name for girls; currently is #39 in the US. Also currently: #2 in Austria, #4 in Ireland, #6 in Belgium. Sarah even got all the way up to the 613th most popular name for boys in 1899. Sara (no 'h'), on the other hand, is #3 in Italy, #4 in Bosnia and Herzegovina and in Slovenia, #5 in Spain, #6 in Croatia, and #8 in Catalonia (but 131st in the US). Clearly, there are plenty of Saras in Europe who can live without the 'h' at the end.

Famous Sarahs: Sarah Michelle Geller, actress; Sarah Dessen, writer; Sarah Hughes, gold medal-winning figure skater; Sarah, Duchess of York; Sarah Bernhardt, actress; Sarah Moore Grimké, women's rights activist; Sara Gilbert, actress; Sarah Brightman, actress/singer; I'm just going to stop there. Feel free to add as many as you'd like (although some were left off the list on purpose because they annoy me).

Fictional Sarahs: Sarah Jane Smith, Doctor Who; Sarah Connor, Terminator series; Sarah Witting, Sarah, Plain and Tall; Sarah Crewe, A Little Princess; Sarah Baker, Cheaper By the Dozen 2003 film... and again, I could keep going for a while.

My Sarahs: I just did a quick check on Facebook and found 11 Sarahs (or Saras) who I'm connected to. Goodness. The nearest and dearest of all my Sarahs is my cousin Sarah, of course. And, I have a character called Sarah, who is sister to my MC Sybil. She's... I'm not sure what to say about her. Perhaps she's the most normal of the family? So far, anyway.

Are you a Sarah? Or a Sara? Or another variation I just didn't think about?

Sources:
Baby Name Wizard
Behind the Name (Sarah)
Behind the Name (Sara)

Closing Ceremonies

In case you've wandered by here in the last 17 days and wondered why on earth the cobwebs were spreading and everything had a thick layer of dust on it, wonder no more: I've been watching all the Olympics.

Seriously. I had a livestream of something on at the office every day, and while I don't actively watch while I'm at work (except in the case of tennis and soccer), I would glance at it from time to time. Coworkers would come in and ask, "What are you watching?" and I was all "Double sculls! Isn't it great?" They'd come back a couple of hours later and ask, "What's this?" and I'd say, "Field hockey!" Isn't it great?" And the next morning it was, "What are you watching now??" and I'd shout, "Synchronized swimming! Best thing ever!" And so on. I sure hope I still have a job when I get to the office today.

I had a look back at my posts during the last Olympics, and I can't for the life of me figure out how I managed to get so much blogging done while watching so many sports. My best guess is that I wasn't using Twitter quite as much in 2008 as I do now, so I had more things to share with the blogosphere.

I have no problem cheering for this
tennis-playing Scot. Source.

So, what do I think? First of all, the Games were as amazing as ever. I have the luxury, being an American, to not mind when we get beaten in this or that sport, because medals are such a matter of course to us that it's easy to be blasé about them. (More on that anon.) Plus, since I am a sports fan all the rest of the time, too, I have a hard time turning off my fandom to a particular athlete, even if he or she isn't from the US. So, I tend to cheer for whoever I want to and leave the "USA! USA!" to other people. I watch for the pure enjoyment of sport about 60% of the time, and for a specific athlete all the rest of the time.

So, gold medals. Because we expect them in the US, we waste a lot of breath complaining about Gabby Douglas' hair or about how this or that athlete didn't sing the anthem. First of all, who cares what the athletes look like, including how they put their hair up while working? And as for the second one-- there's NO WAY I would be able to sing the anthem if I had won a gold medal. No way. I'd be bawling. And if I weren't bawling, singing along to the anthem would be a good way to start. I tend to be fussy about soccer/football/baseball/etc. players singing before the game, but after? Once all the effort is expended and the emotions are crashing down? Well done, gold medal winner: stand, cry, smile-- do whatever you want. Although I do appreciate people at least saluting the flag. (Hand over heart, that is.)

So... Games are over. I'm so very sad. I'll have to find something to do with this sudden free time. Fortunately, there's the small matter of Camp NaNoWriMo.

Did you watch the Olympics? Do you have a favourite moment?

Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow...

...Sorta.

So I watched the opening ceremony, of course, on Friday night. After Beijing's spectacular opening ceremony four years ago, I remember all the articles and podcasts in the British media saying basically, "Well, we'll never top that! Pressure's off." Which I admit is a refreshing change to the "We must be better! We must be louder! We must be fancier!" approach that the U.S. tends to take to everything.


So, I didn't think the opening ceremony was going to have the wow factor of the Beijing version, and it didn't, but I enjoyed it all the same. The hymns that the kids sang--Danny Boy in Northern Ireland, Flower of Scotland in Scotland, Guide Me O Thou Great Redeemer in Wales, and Jerusalem in England-- were fabulous. I found out afterwards that a segment honouring, among others, the victims of the 7/7 terrorism in London, was cut from the NBC broadcast. You can see the video here, and while I don't at all agree with the ridiculous headline on Deadspin, it does at least have the whole song.

I decided to risk NBC's ire and swipe
one of their photos. Most teams
looked like flight attendants or like
they had escaped from their
boarding school. Mexico managed
to be fun! Source.

And since I brought up the NBC broadcast... maybe it's time for another network to have a go at the Olympics. The commentators on Friday night (Bob Costas, Matt Lauer, and Meredith Viera) were obviously jaded/bored/uninterested. Among the many, many criticisms of their commentary on Twitter (to which I happily contributed) were that they narrated it like the Macy's parade; they they talked down to the audience (example: "This may not make sense to you since you're not British" or "You can Google him if you want"-- gosh, thanks); and that they made jokes about many of the nations, especially the smaller nations, which bordered on insulting. I wish they'd learn to be silent from time to time.


Anyway, I got up early on Saturday to catch the cycling, some of the swimming qualifiers, and as much tennis as possible. I'm so happy to have cable TV when the Olympics come round. I also don't mind watching prerecorded stuff in prime time, although I take exception to Bob Costas saying they're showing things "as it happened" when of course they've done plenty of editing. We're really just getting extended highlights. But yay, we have the internet now, so I can watch it online if I want to.


Today? More of the same! I love weekends. Swimming, gymnastics, Tennis!, and more cycling. And whatever else I can fill in the corners with-- yesterday I watched some archery, fencing, boxing, basketball, and a bit of volleyball as well. And that's why I love the Olympics so much-- plenty of sports for all tastes, nonstop for two weeks. It's brilliant.


Somebody at work suggested last week that we could hook up a computer to the big screen and have the Olympics on at work. I pointed out that that's a good way for me not to get any work done.


Do you watch the Olympics? What's your favourite (if you can narrow it down-- I can't!)? Do you enjoy mocking the commentary?

It's Finally Here!

Source.

The moment we've all been waiting for since the last time the torch was extinguished... London 2012 starts today! Yes, I'm one of those people. The ones who know when every event is on, and can tell you who the favourite is, but who they want to win instead, and who will probably annoy you silly for the next two weeks.

But, it's also Friday, so I would be remiss if I didn't make some suggestions on how to green up your Olympic viewing. Here goes:

1. Go watch at a neighbour's house. Then, your two houses will only need to use half as much electricity as before. Of course, you could achieve the same effect if your neighbour comes to your house to watch, but then it's on your bill instead of theirs.

2. If your neighbour isn't keen on this suggestion, sit in his/her backyard with binoculars. Don't worry about spilling popcorn on the lawn; the birds will eat it!

3. If you must watch alone, turn off all the lights in the house to compensate for the extra electricity you'll be using.

4. Buy bigger bags of snacks instead of smaller ones. They'll last longer and you'll save on packaging.

5. And don't bother cooking anything. Then you won't have to do any dishes, either.

6. Borrow a flag from a local high school instead of buying your own. Return it after the Olympics are over. This is easiest if you go after dark.

7. Just wear the same clothes for the whole Games. Less washing and you aren't moving from the couch anyway, right?

8. If you actually take any of these suggestions, you totally deserve what happens to you. Have fun and happy watching!

Trophy People

You might say I'm a bit of a sports fan.

I'm not a tennis player, but
I watch some on TV.
Source.

Normally, when someone says "a bit" like that, it's meant as a casual understatement. In my case, it's more or less true. I live in Texas, the land of American football, and I'm from Indiana, the home of basketball, but I don't spend much time with either sport. (Just to clarify: I love basketball and support my hometown-ish team, the Indiana Pacers, but I rarely take the time to watch a game. I catch the highlights after.) I watch tennis and soccer, especially European teams, and cycling when I'm at home while it's on. I'm pretty sure that most people who call themselves "real sports fans" would not consider me to be a member of the club.

On the other hand, one reason why I love the Olympics so much is because of the chance to see such a variety of sports in such a short time. I like to think of myself as a diversified sports fan.

Anyway! I get irritated sometimes about how the general public acts toward athletes. It's almost as though the general public feels ownership over athletes, as if we are owed al the details of their lives and nothing is permitted to remain private. For instance, last Sunday before the Wimbledon final, a reporter asked Andy Murray what he and his girlfriend had done for dinner the previous night. When Mr. Murray said, "None of your business," Twitter suddenly filled up with comments about what a horrible sportsman he is. Erm, no. It really isn't anyone's business theirs. His sportsmanship has nothing to do with answering personal questions.

Of course, for Andy Murray, the public have no problem finding things to complain about. It started long before that, with the English press berating him for saying that he supported Anyone But England in the World Cup (coincidentally, that's who I support, too), and him finally getting exasperated and pointing out how much time he spends in England and how many English friends he has, which led to a backlash in Scotland about him being so pally with the English. For goodness' sakes.

And we do it in the US, too: I've lost count of how many times I've heard people complain about athletes not "respecting the fans" because they look bored during a press conference or have to hurry away or whatever. Seriously? I like that athletes thank their fans and acknowledge that other peoples' support is an encouragement and a help to them. But I don't for one moment think that elite athletes owe fans anything. We aren't there during their hours of training, we're not the ones getting up early and working out to the point of exhaustion, and most of us aren't in the family/friends circle. They're not obligated to devote their spare time to their fan base.

I understand that the reason athletes get paid what they do is because people make sports valuable. Without fans, there'd be not ticket sales, no contracts, no prize money. Granted. But that still doesn't make their private lives public, and it still doesn't mean fans have first dibs on an athlete's moods or time. And I think we need to get that and be okay with it.

What do you think?

Paul

This is one of those names that is walking around on a lot of people, but is no less of a good name for all that.

Paul

Derived from the Latin Paulus, meaning small. It remains popular throughout the Christian world due to Saint Paul. It's currently #186 in the U.S., 13th in Austria, and 25th in France. For some reason, Behind the Name doesn't show a recent ranking for Northern Ireland or Scotland, despite the name being #93 in N. Ireland in 2008 and #94 in Scotland in 2009. It's hard to believe the name would go from the top 100 one year to not even in the top 1000 the next.

Famous Pauls: Paul Hamm (Olympic gymnast), Paul McCartney, Paul Newman, Paul Revere, Paul Simon, and approximately 15378 other people.

Fictional Pauls: Paul the wine guy (Friends), Paul Buchman (Mad about You), Paul (Pete's Dragon). 

My Pauls: In addition to knowing way too many people called Paul, including a few that I'd rather not know, I do have a character called Paul. He's kind of complicated. He's slow to trust people and keeps pretty much everything inside. I'm not sure where I'll go with him, but he's fun to write.

Do you know any Pauls? Who did I miss? (I gave up trying to think of any more.)

Sources:

Baby Name Wizard

F is for Fiona

My idea with this series was that I could research the meaning behind the names of some of the characters in my WIP. You know what? I have Not One Character whose first name begins with F. So, today's post is inspired by something else: I hate the name Fiona.

There's a story here. When I lived in Scotland, I was in a sort of Big Sisters-type relationship with a young woman called Fiona. She hated me. I did the best I could, but at the end of the day, her hating me caused a lot of stress in my life, because I was 21 years old, wanted the whole world to like me, and didn't know how to handle such strong dislike. If I had done something horrible to her, then the hatred would have been understandable, but I had not. So, stress.

On top of that, around that time we got a new phone line, and when the nice woman on the other end asked my first initial, I said, "S, like Susan", except she heard "F". There must be quite a contingent of people in Scotland called Fuzan-- that's the only explanation I have for the misunderstanding. So, every time the phone bill came addressed to "F", I got a little more angsty, because it reminded me that someone who really had the initial "F" was causing me stress. It's the small things that make me the loony person that I am.

If you're called Fiona, I promise you don't need to skulk off. I don't automatically hate everyone called Fiona-- I do some ridiculous things, certainly, but I'm not that ridiculous. So, in an attempt to cure my irrational hatred of the name "Fiona", I did some research.

Fiona & Tommy in
Brigadoon. Source.

Fiona
Feminine form of the Scottish name Fionn, meaning "fair-skinned". Currently ranked #257th for girls in the U.S.

Famous Fionas: Fiona Mackenzie (Scottish Gaelic singer), Fiona May (Olympic long jumper). Julia Roberts' middle name is Fiona.

Fictional Fionas: Fiona Fox (Sonic the Hedgehog), Fiona Glenanne (Burn Notice), Fiona McLaren (Brigadoon)

My Fionas: None! Eventually, the Fiona who hated me asserted her independence from our whatever it was and refused to talk to me ever again. I've not known another Fiona since, nor have I used the name in my writing.

How do you feel about the name Fiona? Do you have a burning desire to point out that I missed an obvious Fiona in my list? (I did it on purpose.)

Sources: 
Behind the Name
Baby Name Wizard
Parents Connect

Write your own Olympic Commentary

There is a game on Whose Line is it Anyway? in which the players watch a movie clip with no sound, and they provide the dialogue. I enjoy playing a similar game with the Olympic events, because sometimes the commentary is too much. However, I do have to say that the Winter commentary is so very superior to the Summer commentary, possibly because they are spread more thinly at the Summer games. But I would like to make one teensy, eensy request of our Winter friends: Please don't deliver every line of the call in a shouting voice. You may shout when something exciting happens, but otherwise, your microphone will pick up your normal speaking voice just fine.

So, I tend to be kind of grumpy at the commentators. I know in my head that in order to be a successful journalist, one must sell one's soul to Satan. I know that they aren't paid to sit there quietly, and I should expect to hear the persistent voices throughout the event. I know that they are experts and can make the Games more enjoyable for me by telling me what is going on. I know that any of their millions of viewers can turn on the TV at any time, and that's why the man just said the same thing for the 100th time this half hour. I know all these things, and yet... sometimes I just have to hit the mute button.

Play on, Olympians.

Friday Countdown

Just because I can... and because Mark Remy is doing it. Such a bad example!

My next 15K: 8 days
Chad's half marathon: 8 days
Turkey Trot: 20 days
Christmas Tea: 24 days
Christmas: 49 days
My Anniversary: 56 days
Vancouver Olympics: 97 days
Austin Marathon: 99 days

And before you ask... no, I will not include your birthday in my countdown.

NBC is doing it!!

Advertising for the Olympics, that is. I take that as justification for me to do it, too. :)

So, I was sitting in my college speech class about four and a half years ago. It was our first speech, and "introduce yourself" type thing, and the topics revolved around interesting things that happened on our birth day/month/year. Everything was rolling along smoothly and I already had earned my own grade, and was enjoying my classmates' speeches.

Then, this innocent young 20-year-old man got up, to tell us all about being born in 1984. In the course of his speech, he said (and I am not kidding), "1984 was the only year that the Winter and Summer games were held in the same year."

Cue me, falling out of my chair. Okay, not really, but I did a serious slump. Never mind that I can remember the 1984 Olympics (thank you, Mary Lou!), but these people couldn't even remember both games being held in the same year! It didn't change that long ago! 1994, to be exact, was the first year of separation!

Sigh. So at the end of class, in great Susan's-foot-in-mouth style, I asked, "So, does everyone over 25 feel really old now?" And in unison, the other six or so non-traditional students all answered, "Yes."

At least I wasn't alone. So my cautionary tale is this: When giving a speech, do some research first.

100 Days

The Vancouver Olympics are 100 days away. And I'd like to add my own "Huzzah!" to the myriads of cheers going up.

Yeah, I love the Olympics. Summer, winter, near, far, live, prerecorded... doesn't matter. I'll watch it all. The night of the opening ceremonies, I'll be... in Austin. Possibly watching, depending upon what the people we're staying with are doing. It's totally in their hands whether or not I watch the opening.

But the next day, I'll be watching. All day, while sitting in my hotel room with my feet up. You see, the Olympics open the weekend of the Austin marathon. Which, by the way, is 102 days away.

I don't keep up with most winter sports in non-Olympic years, mostly because it makes me cold just to watch. But I am sad we won't see Joey Cheek back again in the speed skating, because he so inspired me last time around by his committment to champion a cause (Right to Play). And something he said in an interview has stuck with me throughout my running journey to date:

Reporter: What's the hardest thing about being an Olympian?

Joey Cheek: Training until you throw up. Every day.

Mr. Cheek is now also working for Team Darfur, continuing to use what influence he has for the good of others. If that isn't enough to inspire me, then nothing else could possibly be, either.

I don't train nearly that hard. But the thought that others do makes me push myself when I'd rather lay down on the pavement and take a nap. Day 3 of the Vancouver Olympics will find me lining up at my own start line, putting my own training to the test, seeing if my own hopes will be fulfilled. I can't wait. And I hope I can do some good along the way.

(I don't know what is wrong with Blogger today. Please ignore the rather random formatting.)

Ryan Hall

Yes, I had intended to be done with Olympic blogging. Turns out my last thought wasn't as final as it seemed.

So, Ryan Hall! Why am I a fan? Because he makes running a marathon look easy? Because of the sweet way he talks about his wife? Because he is a blond-headed Californian, and I have one of those, too?

Okay, those are good reasons. (Except that Chad's hair is actually a lot darker than Ryan's.) But here is the convincing reason: Ryan loves Jesus. A lot. So much so that Runner's World magazine made his combination of faith and running their cover story last month.

I remarked to Chad during the Olympic coverage how much I appreciate the athletes who make a point of mentioning their faith during post-event interviews. I don't care if it's trendy, postmodern, a way of scoring points-- who cares? It's not my job to gauge sincerity. (Thank goodness.) False motives or pure, God is given the glory.

The reason I appreciate the faithful athletes (apart from the obvious) is that they almost have to push to thank God. The interviewers aren't going to ask, and when the subject is mentioned, the good newscasters at NBC skate away from it as quickly as possible. No dwelling on any one's faith in the Lord who gave them their talent in the first place; Bob Costas and his cohorts don't get their ratings by giving glory to God.

Which brings me back to Ryan Hall. The only-- and I mean only-- time I heard any commentators, interviewers, etc., mention an athlete's faith was in the middle of the men's marathon, when one of them said, "Ryan Hall is a man of faith," and before I could express my disbelief and delight, he continued: "And right now he probably has faith that the leaders will slow down."

Oh, well, that's probably as good as we'll get. But unless Ryan is a gifted actor, I think we can all be assured that his faith does not lie in himself or in his fellow athletes. He wants to follow Jesus, and that includes his running.

Way to go, Ryan.

Now for the good stuff...

So, after all my whining and complaining about my not-so-favourite Olympic moments, here are my final (happy) thoughts:



Michael Phelps rocks.


But you already knew that.

Dathan Ritzenhein, Ryan Hall and Brian Sell rock.

Okay, so they took 9th & 10th (and 20 somethingth), and didn't bring home any medals. Who cares? They are still marathoning heroes. Plus, in 2012 the Games are in London. And you know what that means? They have four chances to run the London Marathon between now and then. Plus, let us consider Ryan Hall's marathon history, shall we?: #1. London Marathon. #2. U.S. Olympic Trials. #3. London Marathon. #4. Olympic Marathon. Yeah, I like his chances.

Paula Radcliffe rocks.

But I think I already covered that. All I have to say is, anyone who will continue running and competing-- and winning-- until 6 weeks (I think) before giving birth doesn't need a gold medal to prove she is a world-class athlete. And she has inspired me to think I can do it, too, when the time comes. You're not done yet, Paula-- in London you will be the same age as this year's gold medalist.

Dara Torres rocks.

Speaking of inspiration... Seriously. She's 11 years older than me, and the new face of middle-aged (although just barely) Americans. Talk about the normal barriers not getting in your way.

Oksana Chusovitina rocks.

Speaking of people who compete beyond the "normal" retirement age... this woman won a silver medal. In gymnastics. At age 33. If you haven't heard of her yet, look her up.

Usain Bolt really, really rocks.

What must it be like to train with this guy? How low will he eventually bring the 100m world record?

I could probably go on for a long, long time. But I won't, out of consideration for my faithful reader. Readers. Whichever. Alas, the Olympics are over, and I am having withdrawl... but this, too, shall pass. And if Usain Bolt is pushing it, it will pass really, really quickly.

And it's final..

Diving wins gold.

Not the American divers, although they did put up a valiant effort. Not Matthew Micham of Australia, who was the spoiler for China's would-be sweep. Not even the Chinese themselves.

No, this particular gold is for the irritating commentary, and the diving commentators win it. Last night, I couldn't take any more of Cynthia What's-her-name's voice, so I watched the last two or three rounds on mute. I even turned off the closed captioning, because I was not interested in knowing what she had to say any longer. It wasn't just her voice, although that is grating enough; with her inflections and tones, she should be playing a whiny housewife on a sitcom somewhere. It was also her very slanted opinions (in her eyes, the Chinese could do no wrong-- and everyone else (except Thomas Daley) could do no right) and trips into the "if I were a judge" territory. Perhaps in London they will make you a judge, and give the rest of us a break. NBC, find this woman a different job. And let Jennifer Wilkinson have a go at the commentary.

Silver in the event goes to the entire Track & Field commentary team at NBC. They were so close until last night to having gold, but in the end they couldn't be quite as irritating as Cynthia.

And, rounding out the medals in bronze is Jim Lampley. Now, he was not expected to be a factor in the irritating commentary event, since he was technically the daytime presenter. No matter, though; he overcame that little obstacle to annoy us all on a daily basis and claim the bronze medal. Again, NBC, I hope that before 2010 you can find someone with some skill at delivering a line, not to mention a little bit of charm when addressing the camera; Jim Lampley lacks both. Give us more of Mary Carillo. Or let Meridith, Ann, and Al work through the afternoon hours so we can see more of them (but not Matt Lauer; he is just as annoying as the rest, I'm afraid).

Or, better yet, put my favourite commentator into some overtime: Let Rowdy Gaines do it all. Now there's a man who knows how to deliver interesting, informed commentary. He does deserve a medal.

Golden days, Silver nights

I have so much Olympic blogging in me it's driving me nuts, but when it comes down to it, I'd rather watch an event than blog about it. So here are the highlights:

Michael Johnson jumped up and down and smiled brightly when Usain Bolt broke his 200M world record. Now, there's a man with class, even if he is working for the BBC.

The T&F commentators are running neck-and-neck with the diving commentators for gold medal in "Really irritating commentary". I don't think I can say at this point which will win.

Jeremy Warner: Man, I wanted you to win. Kudos to you for walking away from the reporter though.

Paula Radcliffe, you are my hero. London is calling: 2012 is your year.

It's a shame Katie Hoff's games didn't go better. I was so everlastingly tired of commentators who introduced her time after time as "Katie Hoff, who trains in the same pool as Michael Phelps." Seriously, this woman has had enough success in her own right that she doesn't need to be linked to the Fish Man every five minutes. All I can suppose is that they think Phelps has been peeing in the pool, and that gives her an extra boost of some sort. (Probably to finish her workout quickly and get out!)

Speaking of the Fish Man... Wow. There's just nothing left to be said that hasn't been said by everyone else. He has a really cute dog, too.

So, this seems to be Indiana's year for the Olympics. Thus far, I've counted at least five athletes from Indiana (two gymnasts, three divers), and a few more who train there. I really wanted Haley Ishimatsu to do well, after she and her family moved from Southern California to Indianapolis so she could train with her syncro partner. Talk about sacrifice.

If I see another volleyball game, I will lay on the floor and cry. Isn't there some archery going on we can watch instead? Field hockey?

And to top it all off, I didn't get to see ONE SECOND of Roger Federer playing! Or Rafael Nadal. I did catch about five minutes each of the Williams sisters. Actually, it's part of my plan to watch the gold-medal matches (doubles for Federer, singles for Nadal) eventually, though your guess is as good at mine as to when that will happen.

Okay, coverage resumes in 40 minutes. I had better get a move on.

Oh, Canada

So I'm blogging in the intervals of actual Olympic competition, and thinking longingly of the 2010 Games, which will be held in a closer time zone. British Colombia, I love you.

Anyway, ordinarily I would not dream of mixing my sporting events with blogging, but I am trying to stay awake. I knew this would be the first of my "weekend" of late nights (seriously, it's Wednesday... how can I call this the weekend?), with primetime coverage going to midnight, but this has really been one long evening. And we still have an hour to go. Tomorrow night also goes to midnight, Friday to 1 AM, and I was afraid to look at Saturday.

Bob Costas just informed us that all remaining commercial breaks this evening will be less than 90 seconds. Holy cow. Better ease off on the water.

So, that reminds me of a conversation my supervisor and I had the other day about potential post-Olympic events for the general public:

Marathon sleeping: Those who didn't miss a minute of coverage are expected to do well in this event. (This would not be my event, since my insomnia would have me DQd in short order.)

Syncronised marathon sleeping: For couples/roommates who enjoyed the games together.

Commercial break bathroom steeplechase: Dodging furniture, leaping over laundry, using the loo, then running back to the couch in under 90 seconds. Points are deducted for leaving the door open and for any "wardrobe adjustments" after returning to the television.

TiVo-induced fencing: Spouses/roommates duel over who deleted that event you wanted to watch over and over again.

Standing celebratory high jump: You ought to be good at this one, after all those gold medal moments.

Balance test: After all those cups of coffee, can you still walk in a straight line?

NBCOlympics.com Decathalon: Competitors will look in on their favourite athletes, watch some live video, check the evening's TV listings, send a nasty e-mail to the annoying commentators, and then get back to work before the boss sees what they are doing on company time.

I was tired of the even keel, anyway.

So I've had a week of emotional upheaval.

Said upheaval has been mixed with the normal wackiness that comes from being me, which has brought me a whole new dimension of crazy. I don't even know what to call it.

I thought maybe the crazy was because Chad was gone this week. It could be from over-exposure to Lord of the Rings (I read the books and watched the movies all in the same 10-day period). Perhaps it is due to the inner hype I've been building for the past 6 months in anticipation of the Olympics. (Yeah. I'm that much of a fan.) Or the stress at work. Or an unanticipated reaction to the anniversary of losing Grandpa.

We've wondered in the past, due to my sizable mood swings and seasons of insomnia (yep, I'm having one of those, too), if I might be manic-depressive. Chad brought the question up again in the midst of the Opening Ceremonies Friday night, when in the stretch of those four hours I went from out-and-out crying (at the pictures of parents weeping for their children after the earthquake) to absolute delight at the show being played out, back to teary at the Chinese children singing, then over to all but jumping up and down when Scotland the Brave came on, followed by squeals of joy at seeing Rafael Nadal and Roger Federer come in with their respective countries-- and then I went to bed, to lie awake for an hour or two, since I had a brain overactive with what I had seen and anticipation of my race Saturday morning.

Not that it got much better on Saturday-- I got home from my race and finished reading The War of the Ring during beach volleyball (my least favourite Olympic sport, and we're inundated with it) and I couldn't stop crying. Just couldn't. I've read that book at least a half-a-dozen times before, and never once have I been moved to tears. Then there was the fencing medal ceremony-- good grief, you'd think my dog had died.

So I've decided to embrace the emotional crazy and just go with it. I don't seem to have much of an option otherwise. :) Oh, and in the same vein, I also embraced the Olympic OCD and have polished my fingernails to match the Olympic flag. Go Team USA!!

The World is Watching

Wow. The opening ceremony was pretty cool. I was pretty annoyed by the commentators (as ever... a plague upon your wagging tongue, Matt Lauer) and their continual, often superfluous, chatter, but they did at least give this one useful bit of information: The ceremony was planned/staged/etc. by a successful Chinese filmmaker (yes, I've forgotten his name) and he had a budget that might be described as beyond astronomical. So (Matt said-- about 6 times), this is what happens when you give a creative, world-class artist an unlimited budget. I'm sure he felt it was worth every penny. (Or whatever the local equivalent is in China.)

The part that excites me about the opening ceremonies is the parade of nations, and while I didn't stay up long enough to see the end, I saw most of the countries I was watching for. (I missed Mexico-- either because I was away from the TV or because they came on after I went to bed.) I did see Switzerland, though, and was rewarded for my patience by seeing my good pal Roger Federer carrying his nation's flag. (Okay, he's not my pal. I don't care.)

The other high spot of the parade was found in the medley of music played as the athletes came in-- the second or third song that came up was "Scotland the Brave." (Played by the bagpipes, no less.) Naturally, I went from casual lounging on the couch to sitting bolt upright in about a millisecond-- causing Chad to caution me about hurting myself. Once I worked out that they were playing a selection of music from (seemingly) all over the place, I sat back to enjoy the show.

And hear the song. Like five times. Bless you, unknown Chinese filmmaker.