A Childhood Love

I am a child of Winter. I love everything about it. The silence of soft snow falling; the big flakes that come down early in the season, the frozen pond that invites you for a skate, the moonlit night ski through the snow covered woods, the icicles that form on the eves of your house, the sunshine and blue skies the day after a storm, the beauty of the mountains covered in snow, I could really go on and on. . . . . I even like the ‘bad’ things such as the mindless drone work of shoveling snow. Winter is in me, it’s a part of me and I can’t do without it.

Naturally I have loved the Olympic Winter Games since the day I was born. Some of my fondest childhood memories csme from either watching the games or imagining I was in them. When the Olympics were on it was like time stood still and all other distractions faded to the background. For each of those 2 weeks I ate, lived, and breathed the Olympic games. All my spare time was spent watching them. I stayed up all hours of the day and night to watch them live. Even after the games, the spirit lingered in play and pursuit. I was a fanatic.

Growing up the walls of my room were plastered with the magazine and newspaper croppings of Olympians. My father knew how much I loved the photos and articles and would buy me all the SI, Newsweek, Time, etc magazines that talked about the athletes. Even in school we were obsessed, I have a whole Lillehammer scrapbook that we made as part of school assignments that I still have to this day.

What I love most about the Olympics and what separates it from other sporting events is that it is a celebration of competition, sportsmanship, and peace. Its different than say the World Championship of skating or skiing, of which people compete for a title that is more or less for themselves than for a team. But the Olympics are a competition that is bigger than the individual. You aren’t exactly you anymore; you belong to the Country. You are Team USA. There are more than the usual sport specific fans watching; you have the whole country joined together cheering you on. There is something about that coming together that is so great. As a fan you get to live each moment of the events with the Olympians and feel it as if it was your own. That is why I have stood up cheering in my house for a winning Super-G run and felt the agony of a fall during a speed skating race. I’ve even shed tears with gold metal winners when their national anthem is played (the country is irrelevant when the performance is outstanding).

I also love the theory that all countries put aside their differences for 2 weeks and walk side by side in peace while they compete. Even though there are several times in history where politics played out, rarely was it an individual Olympian that partook in the ugliness. Overall the call for peace at the opening ceremonies is observed and goodwill is spread amongst the competitors.

On a more individual level there is something about the struggle and dedication that the Olympians go through that I love. Every person who is competing has a story, a journey that they took to become the best (even if its just the best in their small country). I love hearing those stories such as the little girl who was at the rink at 4am everyday to skate, the dad who took 2 jobs so that they could afford coaches, or the single mom who drove her son to the hill everyday for 10 years.

The athletes that endured countless struggles and setbacks and never let their dream go. I think that that story is common to everyone, no matter what background or country you come from.

Going to the Olympics for me is special. Growing up I always hoped and dreamed to go to the Olympics as a participant (there is still a chance, right? Some of those curlers are lie 40+) but fate had other plans for me. So when I created my 5-year bucketlist, this was one of the things on the top of my list, to go as a spectator. I am so excited to be on my way there and I can’t wait for the games to begin.