Olympic Fever

I can’t help it. I love the Olympics. I caught the bug while living in Rhode Island and the Olympics came to Salt Lake. I fell in love with the back ground stories of so many athletes, I cheered, I prayed, I cried, I held my breath and rejoiced for so many. (On a side note I also fell in love with Utah. I have always been a Utah girl but until then I had never been as proud as I forever will be.) As I have watched this year, on TV and online, I find myself feeling a rush of emotions. Two individuals have been especially inspiring to me.

I have become a Michael Phelps fan. I love his story. From a kid diagnosed with ADHD that started swimming at seven to provide him with an outlet for his energy. His story is inspirational. He has done an amazing feat and not all on his own. The men’s swimming final 4 x 200-meter freestyle relay was awesome. I loved the team work and they reminded me how proud I am to be American.

I found a new hero in Dara Torres. Almost exactly ten years older than me. She is the first swimmer from the United States to compete in five Olympics: 1984, 1988, 1992, 2000, and 2008. Torres has won twelve Olympic medals (four gold, four silver, four bronze). All of these things are impressive. But what makes her truly amazing in my eyes is her sportsmanship. Watching a qualifying heat she came in second she immediately turned to the first place winner and with true sincerity told her good job. In another heat she saw that a competitor from Sweden’s suit had ripped and held the race up in order for the girl to quickly change and compete on a fair level. Then in the final when Britta Steffen won by a fingernail she again congratulated with a hug and what looked like sincere joy. She is an example to me and I hope I am a little bit different because of who she is.