Training for the next Senior Olympics
Having recently completed two weeks of intense training on all things Winter Olympics, I am seriously exploring entering the senior Olympics.
I studied each sport from all angles: the couch, the dining room table and even from the floor. I was drawn to half pipe. How hard can it be? Strap your feet into boots attached to a snowboard and launch yourself over the edge. Fly down one side and up the other side of something that appears suspiciously to be patterned after a frozen drainage ditch.
When your body flies out of the snowpacked pipe you quickly flip yourself around and do it all over again. Do you know how much practice I have at the grocery store flipping carts around when a new till opens?
Next I considered Big Air as my sport. Riding an elevator up to the top of a scaffold, hurtling my snowboard straight down while steering it like I just stole my daddy’s car.
After gracefully clearing the ramp you land in a rut that carries you up a hill that once again launches you airborne. You pretty much do more flipping around like the half pipe required.
It’s critical to land feet first like back in the day when I fence jumped after raiding vegetables from the neighbour’s garden. It seemed almost too easy. Those youngsters need to be more creative. Maybe they should consider skiing down the ramp on an ironing board while pushing a grocery cart full of vegetables to kick it up a notch or two.
These life skills, unlike high school calculus, translate into being useful for my Olympic career.
I finally settled on bobsled as my sport of choice. I am a bigboned girl and the bobsledders, like me, have more junk in the trunk than ice dancers. Fellow sofa sliders, you need to listen up. I knew I had watched too much Olympics when I launched myself into bed one night and nearly startled my honey to death. Who knew he fell asleep that quick? Explaining that I was training for the seniors Olympics as a bobsled brakeman did nothing to settle his pounding heart.
My intensive observations of PyeongChang taught me the key is to quickly enter the sled behind the driver, tuck your head and ride like the Russians are chasing you.
In bobsled there is a pretty good chance they actually will be. I spent 42 winters pushing neighbors’ cars out of frozen ruts in the back alleys of Alberta. I already have the required push and run skills needed to win a medal.
I do need more practice on my sled entry and hopefully will not give my husband a heart attack in the process.
After my first attempt we spent five minutes cracking ourselves up imagining the potential outcomes of my Olympic career.
My favorite scenario had me missing the entry and being whipped down the track behind the sled hanging on for dear life. Competitive by nature, I would naturally turn a potential deadly mishap into artistic expression for extra points.
Newly inspired to transition from sofa spud to elite athlete while sliding into my twilight years, I will need a sponsor.
Currently my energy drink of choice is wine. It relaxes me, makes me brave and stupid all at once; a combination I will need going forward.
What is the chance of the Okanagan Wine Growers Association sponsoring my sled? I am the brakeman but I still need a driver… preferably a designated driver. Volunteers?
Jan Hickenlooper Aboussafy is happily test driving retirement in Penticton after 42 years in Alberta. Positive thinking, humour and insights are passions she likes to share. She can be reached by email at sandpilemissives@gmail.com