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Having watched Joannie Rochette’s short program once again, I saw for the first time a moment at the end of her program where a triumphant smile begins to cross her face. It is as if for that one instant her mother was not gone, and the most important thing in the world was just to skate well.
It is true that grief comes crashing down around her a fraction of a second later…but in that one instant there is hope of smiling again.
That is my wish for her and for the many who suffer loss so much less publicly.
My father passed away more than 12 years ago after a long illness. I watched as his health and quality of life declined; making the trip home as often as I could manage from wherever I was stationed over the last few years of his life. I said good-bye upon leaving; each time uncertain if that would be the last time.
Even still, when the phone call came, I was a mess; booking the earliest possible flight home in tears, packing a suitcase with wet clothes, no time to wait for the dryer to finish its cycle, and drove myself to the airport. Nine days later when I returned by air, I had absolutely no recollection of where I had left my car.
Last Sunday, another young woman lost a parent; without warning, without a chance to say good-bye, without watching tremendous decline. Last night that woman skated to third place position in the women’s short program at the Olympics.
I am sure by now most of you have heard the story of Joannie Rochette of Canada, whose mother died of an apparent heart attack just hours after arriving in Vancouver to watch her daughter skate.
You can see Ms. Rochette’s short program here. It some of the best skating you will ever see, even absent the extreme circumstances, but I should warn you I’ve watched it 4 or 5 times…and wept…
As my friend Phylor pointed out, if we are serious (or even if we are not), we need to acquire a new vocabulary if we are going to pursue our Olympic Curling dream. NBC has posted a few helpful videos for the team:
and
I am no great athlete. I am no athlete at all, so for me the Olympics is a watching game; watching and learning.
I have spent the day watching with huge admiration, intense fascination and, sometimes, high anxiety as I watched ski jumping, short track skating, luge and mogul skiing.
- How can you not look with awe at those folks who launch themselves off a ski jump to fly for 100 meters or more; their bodies locked in position to best catch enough air to extend their trip?
- How can you not sit on the edge of your seat during short track skating while the skaters swap the lead time and again; inches from their competitors where one slight bump can send you and your Olympic dreams crashing?
- How can you not lean forward, anxious to spot the first signs of chatter on the luge track, eager to see each competitor safely down?
- How can you not wonder at the pounding those mogul skiers knees are taking as they absorb bump after bump; chasing an early set fast time and skirting the fine line between fast and too fast?
And so I have lost most of my day…
The Winter Olympic opening ceremonies are tonight, and I am ready. Having never run across a pastry, noodle or bread crumb I didn’t crave, the carbohydrate loading comes naturally; so I’ve got that going for me. Which is good. I have a rigorous viewing schedule laid out, and I will need my energy.
In advance, I have pre-inspected all of my equipment. My cable bill is paid up. I have fresh batteries in my remote control. Knowing that this was a big weekend for me, my cousin sent me fresh supplies of chocolate and wine. There is, of course, always the possibility that something could go wrong, but barring that I think this could be my Olympics.
Why my Olympics? Because it’s practically being held in my home city. After three tours in the Pacific Northwest, Vancouver is familiar turf. Whistler Mountain is old stomping grounds for me; the first place I ever skied outside of my home state of New York.
I feel ready, by virtue of finding an old trail map in my old ski bag, for the alpine events, and I have dreamed of being an ice skating champion for years, so I can definitely see that except for the spandex….
There are sports, however, in which I have had to do some research in my search for the events for me.
Short track speed skating seems to be an exercise in defiance of momentum. We’ve all heard that a body in motion tends to stay in motion. The lesser known caveat to that is that bodies in motion tend to go straight…so getting around a short, oval track is probably harder than it looks.
I love bobsled, but that leap to get your feet straight into a moving sled looks beyond my capability. I fear I would be more likely to get one foot in while the other caught the lip of the cockpit, tripping me, so that I land on our driver and doom the whole team.
In fact, I’m not sure I can handle the pressure of any team sport. There is always the possibility of public humiliation when I engage in any sport… I can probably handle dashing Olympic hopes in one “Ellen moment” better if it is just my hopes alone. Or so I thought until I found my notes from years ago.
I wrote this in my journal one winter evening:
Curling is a sport played by a 5-man team, playing seven ends of 4 stones each. In each end, one guy throws, two sweep the stone down the ice and two guys stand at the other end leaning on their brooms. I think this may be a sport for which I am especially well suited; especially the all-important broom-leaning position.
My cousin agreed…so now we have the two broom-leaners. We just need a stone-thrower and two sweepers. Any takers?
Sochi 2014 Olympians.
Sounds good doesn’t it?
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