The Olympics sure makes me talk tough

This has nothing to do with Austin or philanthropy, but I just can’t get over how the Olympics just gets me every single time. This morning I happened to be awake at 6 a.m. (Thanks, Olivia.), and was able to catch some women’s field hockey. Holy smokes.

The first thing that happened is that I realized how much I miss playing team sports. I played volleyball at Southwestern, the best team I ever played on. Fine athletes. There’s something to feeling that fit and strong and hungry when you’re 19 years old, and then just kicking some other team’s ass.

Then I started to get jealous. I’d be in Beijing, too, damn it, if I were just six inches taller. And the women on the Argentinian team all looked like buff Giselles in miniskirts and knee socks. It was raining, too, so they were all tan and slick and muscley. Damn it. Let them have two children, then let’s see how they look.

Then, the more I watched them play, the more I wanted to run. Just run and chase things and move around. I remembered that I have legs and arms and a back, too. Even at six in the morning, my body started twitching to move.

And I did, a little bit. I danced to CCR’s greatest hits with Sam. I threw a football 20 feet in the air about 20 times to get another ball out of the oak tree. And I took the baby for her first turn in the jogging stroller. I got sweaty again and I’m still sweaty now. If I were six or nine inches taller, I wouldn’t be writing this, that’s for sure. I’d be in Beijing kicking somebody’s ass.

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