Go for the gold

I miss the Olympics.  Being completely drawn in. Staying up too late for the final race. The unlikely feeling that the world has paused to embrace the spectacle together.  The utterly irresistible moments burned in memory.

It's my sister and I sitting on a bed in a motel room in Yakima, watching tiny Olga Korbut win gold, on the very same day I finally learned to dive down to the very bottom of the deep end of the pool to retrieve a gold ring of my own.

It's all four of us lined up tight on the family room sofa to watch Franz Klammer barrel down the mountain to win gold at a speed that could only inspire awe compared to what we would ever dare to do on the slopes. 

And it's that summer between high school and college, standing in front of the television, waiting anxiously to see Mary Decker run to victory, only to witness her collision with fellow runner Zola Budd that put her out of the race and caused a wailing display of disappointment that in itself, was shocking.

I've always loved running the most. One person. One track. An expression of pure and uncomplicated speed, power and stamina. No question of where you stand.

A couple months ago, I met Mary Decker Slaney.  For a while, I just watched her from across the room and wondered how she dealt with her many disappointments, since she's been largely taciturn on that front. Finally, I walked up to her and told her I thought she was awesome.  She laughed, and said she'll never get tired of hearing that.  Then we chatted a bit about her running these days, which is quite limited due to injury.

I hope that when she watches the games today, she watches with the thrill of knowing she was once a part of the magic, rather than with the regret that she never got to have that fleeting moment that proved to the world she was the best of all.