Olympic Fever

It's been more than a week. I confess that I have not made a concerted effort to alter my path or change my behavior, but twice this week in the staff lunchroom I have stared blankly at the following inquisition: "So, are you watching the Olympics?"
And while the rest of the group begins to exude about the feats of strength and daring that they have enjoyed over the past few days on ice and snow, I sit there chewing my turkey sandwich and waiting for the subject to return to movies or Tiger Woods or any other sport that doesn't involve sliding down some frozen surface. I admit I have no prior reason for my disdain for the Winter Games. I have made light of competitions such as the Biathlon (shooting and skiing, two great tastes that taste great together), and Curling (speed sweeping). Growing up in Colorado, I reached my saturation point with winter sports very early in life. I wobbled on skates and slipped on skis. It may have been part of my need to remain contrary to the dominant paradigm, but I never cared much for being outside in a blizzard.
I did watch the Opening Ceremonies. Skipping past the "human interest" stories on my DVR to get to the spectacle. I admit that, for Canada, they were quite spectacular. I was hoping that they might squeeze some Rush in there, but I suppose I'm asking too much. After that, my television has been virtually free from Olympiad. It could be that I am suffering from football hangover, and without a Pro Bowl the week after the Super Bowl to cushion the blow, it might be just too big a letdown to go from the feel-good victory of the Saints to the drama on the figure skating rink.
In the end, I know I don't need to worry. Just as there are still those among us who have yet to go see "Avatar," the world will allow some of us to skip these Winter Games. Thursday afternoon I heard an odd set of footsteps outside my door. The rhythm was step, hop, step, hop. I was headed out into the hallway to tell some kid to knock it off, but was greeted instead by the quickly blushing face of a fourth grade teacher. "I was speed skating," she explained. In spite of my personal ambivalence, I'm glad to see the Olympic dream live on, even in the hallways of an elementary school.