Olympic Dreams

By not selecting David Tennant to carry the torch to its
final destination, the UK has unwittingly created a
time paradox.

I came to a sobering realization the other day, I will probably never compete in the Olympics. I know that is an odd thought to have, considering it has never once occurred to me before that I ever wanted to compete on the international stage, but there it is.

I am not even sure what sport I would compete in. I ran track in high school, but I tended to be more lazy than good. I fenced once in my life, but I was thrown out for swashbuckling. I do enjoy archery, but last time I took a girl to the archery range my arrow ricocheted off the target, rotated 180 degrees, and struck my date causing superficial wounds. Swimming would require me to get over my fear of drowning and my fear of speedos. Maybe javelin, but I have an ancestor that was killed by a javelin, and my family is still not over the trauma. I might have a shot at the dream events, like Dream Trampoline or Dream Rafting... or are those only in the Mario and Sonic Olympic Games?

In truth, I am not really qualified to do anything in the Olympics, and if I am being honest about it  the only thing I actually want to do is walk in the parade at the start of the Olympics. That to me seems like the kind of moment a person would cherish for the rest of their lives, well any person other than Kobe Bryant. (Hey, Kobe, you want to be an Olympian? Do I get paid? No. Mmmm... I guess so.) The opening ceremonies really grabbed my attention and I am not talking about the forty-foot tall Voldemort.

(As a digression,) I do want to talk about the forty-foot tall Voldemort. I know a lot of people did not "get" the ceremony, but then again a lot of people do not "get" Monty Python either. I admire the Brits for pulling out all the stops and presenting us with a bizarre, funny, and sometimes dark presentation of their history and culture. In a country with a monarchy that refuses to even crack smile, it was delightfully random and even a little tongue in cheek. After all, the ceremonies opened with James Bond throwing the Queen out of a helicopter, continued with disjointed pastoral and Industrial Revolution imagery, was punctuated with cameos by Mr. Bean, Mary Poppins, and the aforementioned He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, and was all set to a soundtrack of British Rock and Pop music. From my perspective it was quintessentially British in almost every way. My only criticism was a decided lack of an appearance by every one's favorite Doctor, and too much appearances by Ryan Seacrest.

Despite my few reservations, the night seemed to stand as a culmination for the British people and all the hard work they had put in over the past many years. It is always great to see such a massive undertaking achieved, and maybe that is my problem. I suppose the envy I feel over not being an Olympian is not so much for the competition but in watching people who have arrived at the pinnacle of their careers, (again with the exception of Kobe.) All their hard work, sweat, tears, and blood has paid off and culminated in a single moment, the realization of a dream.

So maybe what I am really looking for is my own Olympics. I will never be a great track star, an archery phenom, a swimming star, or even a half-decent fencer, but that does not mean that I cannot achieve other goals. Ultimately that culminating "Olympic" experience is different for everyone. It will not always happen amidst cacophonous fanfare and parades. It may come at a quiet moment in the night, or strike like a lightning bolt on a clear day, but you will recognize it when it comes. I can only hope that when my moment happens I too will be greeted by a forty-foot tall dark wizard.