So, the Olympics.  I love them, and have loved them since about the 7th grade.  If I wasn’t working all the time, you can believe that I would be glued to the telly.  (Which is a fun word that American’s should say more often, by the way.  Let’s start a trend!) I have no DVR. I know what you’re thinking-I must live under a rock, and let me assure you that I do not.   BUT, in my defense, it would do me no good.  I would be up all hours of the night watching pointless shows that don’t matter and never get any sleep…just because I could, and anyone who knows me knows that I need my sleep. The phrase “beauty sleep” was coined because someone once saw me after I pulled my first all-nighter.  Okay not really, but you get my point.  But back to my real point…I love the Olympics. I was asked why the other day and I realized that I had a very logical reason for this passion.

Olympic athletes are the best of the best from all over the world, right?  That in and of itself is enough, really.  But I love that they do it for one reason, and one reason only.  They LOVE it.  Do they get paid to be in the Olympics?  No sir.  Are they glorified by society to the point that they believe that they have an untouchable conscience and can do no wrong?  Well, maybe… I don’t really know all of them- ha -but from what I do know, they just seem like normal, hard working, passionate people that bust their butt to live and breath their childhood dreams.

I really wanted to have a comparison between professional American Sports Leagues and the Olympics at this point of the blog, but every person that I mentioned the idea to FREAKED out.  They hated the fact that I didn’t enjoy every National Sport. They would question my “neighborliness” if I didn’t love baseball alongside my apple pie. And more than that, they disagreed with my stance on the ridiculous amount professional athletes get paid.  So rather than cause a HUGE controversy on our first week of blogging, I will focus on why I love the Olympics…namely, my obsession with Apolo Anton Ohno. J

I was in 7th grade.  I remember anxiously sitting in Mr.Schubert’s reading class (one of the best teacher’s ever, by the way) longing to be home watching Apolo.  He was the first athlete I really looked up to.  Why? Who knows…but what I did know was that he was the cutest skater I had ever seen (give me a break, I was 12) and it was apparent to me how hard he had to work to achieve his goals.  See, I was the most practical child on the planet.  I asked for pillows and ceiling fans for Christmas.  As a kid, I could care less who wore the coolest shoes and could do the fanciest dance moves, I have always been more impressed with who worked the hardest and had the bigger heart.  And even in my short 12 long years of experience, I could see both of those traits in Apolo. I loved it.  I continued to love him on Dancing with the Stars and the 2006 Olympics and even through today.

Though I’m all grown up now, I still scream and yell like a school girl when I hear his name.  I fell asleep on the couch the other day and woke up in a panic because an announcer said his name on the TV.  Silly?  Absolutely.  Would I change it? No way. Why? Because everyone needs a hero.  Someone they look up to, and someone that gives them hope.  Hope that you can live your dreams.  Hope that you can be the most decorated Olympian after failing time and time again on your way to the top.  He was the first “famous” person that proved to me that I could achieve whatever I set my heart on and worked hard at.  Maybe that’s where my skewed vision comes from today.  Maybe that’s why I like the Olympics better than professional sports…who knows.

Regardless, he’s living a dream.  And that’s all that matters.

And just for grins and giggles….here’s a picture.  Because a picture makes everything better!

Your friendly Neighborhood Blogger,

Caitlin