Olympic Moment

I asked a friend if she's been watching the Olympics. I didn't think she would say "no." What? Who doesn't watch the Olympics?

What else on TV is as exciting or as dramatic as watching The Flying Tomato do a double-half-caf- triple 720? How often do you see someone's dreams dashed for catching an edge on their ski twenty feet from the starting gate?

It's fascinating, edge-of-your-seat viewing that stands as a constant reminder. Buckling down and working hard can have such great rewards.

I remember watching the 2002 Salt Lake City Olympics. Maggie was four months old. We were house-bound and poor; Scot has lost his job a week after Maggie was born. We watched every night, till late into the night. The Olympics offered us a taste of what we needed; a distraction from our situation and a reminder that even though each athlete (person) might not win the game/run/race(job) , they still worked hard enough to gain entry to the greatest show on Earth, the Olympics (a job interview).

My families greatest athletic accomplishment was competitive shopping. But growing up we were avid watchers of the Olympics. My dad would uncharacteristically scream for Team U.S.A. and for two weeks my mom knew everything there was to know about basketball. Back in 2004, my parents watched the opening ceremonies of the Athens games from their armchairs. On a whim, two days later, they booked flights and flew to Greece. I turned on the TV one day to see my mom standing on the sidelines of The Today Show From Athens. She waved as the camera panned past her, a million fans, and Katie Couric. One of the greatest thrills in their spectator life was watching the Olympic marathoners ending their run in the stadium.

With so much passion, time and energy involved, the only athletes that bug me are the ones who don't weep, cry, or scream when they win or lose. When Lindsay Jacobellis did a hot-dog move on her snowboard back in 2006, she fell and ruined her touchable taste of gold. In an interview this year, she shrugged it off as just something that happened. But could she really shrug off years of training and sweat?

My message to Lindsey - Hell no girl!!! Don't act cavalier. Admit it was a dumb ass move made by a young, excited girl. And then admit it hurt - it hurt like hell to lose it.

But she didn't. Part of me was glad when she went out-of-bounds and was disqualified this week. I want her to beg, break-down, grovel, and so desire this medal that we all want to hand it to her on a silver charger. But to me, for the past two Olympics, she hasn't seemed to want it enough. I would also send this message out to Body Miller.

Lindsay Vonn on the other hand- that girl wanted it. She skied on a shin so painful that she favored the leg, holding it up in the air. By doing that, she risked catching an edge and falling. And this was after a wrist injury last year. And some other injury before that. The woman has not been without some sort of injury in the last year and a half. And when she won yesterday, she wept. She cried in her husband's arms and thanked him. And she continued her guttural wails long after he told her to stop crying . She cried because early mornings, aching muscles and a life put on hold had finally paid off.

Last May, I was seated in the stadium at Sun Devil Stadium at Arizona State University. Two years of personal and financial sacrifice, endless hours studying, and wondering if it was all worth it were coming to an end for Scot. A large group of bagpipers started a procession into the arena. Behind them filed in my husband and his MBA classmates. I was caught off guard by the tears I felt stream down my cheeks. I was caught up in watching Scot's own moment of glory.

Yesterday, I watched the TV and cried right along with Lindsay Vonn. I saw the effort and the years that single moment took. Watching success happening in its most precious, raw moment should be motivational fuel for us all.

How could you not want to watch that?