Olympic Drive

My longtime girl crushes Misty and Kerri.

Photo credit: NYDailyNews.com

The Olympics get me all jacked up, maybe even more than the steroids I’m on. I love everything about them: the competition, the team spirit, the physical endurance, the goals accomplished, the camaraderie, the back stories, the proud parents, the upsets and underdogs, the rewards reaped for hard work. I am a Summer 2012 Olympics junkie. I’m one of those people who was counting down to their start all summer and now that they’re here – at a time when insomnia has been at a peak for me – they make for the perfect late-night television viewing and article reading.

I love watching these incredible athletes in their pique physical form. Their strong, sculpted bodies and determined focuses give me so much drive in my own pursuits. Minus my couple of chemo recovery days, I’ve been wildly productive on many fronts over the past two weeks, and I give a lot of that credit to Olympic inspiration. I’m a sucker for great sporting moments. If they can pinpoint quadruple somersault dives in sync with a partner, back flip off of a 4-inch-wide beam, and make the most impossible digs in beach sand, then I can handle whatever measly thing I’m dealing with. Hell, they’re shattering World Records.

Nothing is more attractive to me then a svelte, sculpted athletic body. Watching the Olympics makes me ache for the health and endurance they have and long for my high school “glory days” on the volleyball court and sprinting for the track and field team. I yell at the television and sit back in awe that the competitors we get to watch are the best in the world at what they do. Talk about an accomplishment to be there to compete, never mind win. It must be such a high for these athletes who have devoted their lives to their sport. There’s a lot to be said for and learned from that type of commitment.

The games are a good reminder of the power of the human spirit and the capabilities of the human body: one hell of a machine.