The unsung Olympic moments

I wish to preface any angry sentiments that readers may have by confirming that, yes, I favor endurance sports. I have grown up racing uphill on long, skinny skis. I know that Nordic skiing isn’t cool. It’s not sexy, not especially dramatic, and there is no music unless you count cowbells. The suits aren’t flattering, our muscles are too big, and there’s a lot of spit. 

The absence of glamour is the essence of Nordic ski racing; it’s one reason I love it. Though it is true that I lack the balance and grace and hairspray necessary to even begin such celebrated endeavors as ice skating – know that I am a hater.

 But my anger is spurred from sleep deprivation. In order to watch the freestyle cross country sprint race, I must rouse myself from my toasty bed at 3 am, place bare feet on a frigid floor, dance around trying to get warm, and accidentally wake the dog (who thinks it’s time for breakfast) in order to watch a race with more heart and fewer tears that the monotonous twirl of sparkles that I cannot escape during prime time.

True, I don’t have to wake up so early, but I want to watch My Team.  I’m not talking about “my team” like every person in Colorado talked about the Broncos two weeks ago.  I’m not cheering on over-paid professional athletes who aren’t from Colorado and who I’ve never met.  My Team is made of men and women with whom I’ve raced, joked, and traveled. I’ve cheered for them; watched in awe as they won races and finished with broken ribs.  I’ve been inspired by them, even if I was only ever sitting across from them in a high school gymnasium during a Junior Nationals banquette or huddled together out in the cold at an NCAA race.

I know they are devoted to their sport because I’ve likewise chased The Dream – but I experienced only a small fraction of the commitment and success that makes up these athletes’ careers. 

I know I’m in the minority. I know other Americans, even other Coloradans, don’t think as I do. I know this because of commercials, news broadcasts, and Daily Show jokes. Last week a radio DJ listed biathlon as one of the strangest sports in the Winter Olympics and went on to justify curling. Another individual, whose wit runneth over his pint of beer, made a joke about Nordic skiing being the most boring sport to watch.

Each ignorant statement can easily be disputed, even if it’s to the chagrin of the Olympic fan. If sport, and specifically the Olympics, were invented to maintain skills and fitness between wars, what could be more practical than the biathlon!?! Skiing and shooting is as historic as nomadic survival and played a part in Norway’s defeat of Germany in World War II. Plus, when the zombie apocalypse comes, biathletes will be among the survivors. 

And to the nation of Joe Six-packs: what is entertaining to one, I recognize, may bore another but to mock a sport wherein the competitors are some of the fittest people in the world is simply a reflection of your own abilities.  Eight of the top twenty highest VO2 Max rates ever recorded were cross country skiers and biathletes; they share the list evenly with cyclists (6) and runners (6). Lance Armstrong is 21st on the list, to add some perspective.

I know the beer buzzed gent wasn’t being purposefully insulting, but it is because of spectators like him that I must wait until the dead of night for NBC to broadcast the sport I wish to see in full coverage. If NBC elects to broadcast a cross country skiing race during daylight hours, I’m asked to be content watching a 2 hour endurance trial that has been condensed into 20 minute filler between Shaun White and ice dancing.

There is no shame in admitting that ice dancing isn’t a sport. Doesn’t the name give it away? It’s called “dancing!” And while dancing requires athleticism, skill, and grace, it also requires an audience, artistic interpretation, costumes, make-up, and judges. I don’t believe that an event requiring a judge qualifies as a sport. Judges relegate an event into the category of beauty contest – a statement I’m sure will upset fans of half-pipe and freestyle skiing alike.

Racing down a hill, up a hill, across the ice – that is sport! Weaving through a slalom course, battling through a hockey game, launching off a ski jump for distance is sport!

If you require any more proof I beg you to watch the curtsies made by the performers following skating routines. They are breathing hard, but smiling, bowing, catching roses.