Inspired Stupidity: A Homemade Olympic Moment

The Olympics are here, and our TV is tuned into them at anytime when either school is not in session or piano is not being practiced. Each family member has gravitated to one sport or another and has imagined himself in their favorite Olympian's shoes. We've all been inspired, but how that inspiration would play itself out for one of our family members would require our local hockey rink.

We arrived one morning for public skate time and my three kids quickly laced-up and took to the ice. I stood at the side of the rink staring through the plexiglass to watch them for a few minutes before heading for the locker room to read. I was just about to leave when my youngest child, Colleen, caught my eye. She suddenly took-off running full-bore on her skates. "I'm a speed skater!" she proudly announced. I held my breath knowing she was not a proficient skater. She was a newly, self-taught skater who didn't even know the basics of stopping. So, while she was off imitating Apolo Ohno, I was waiting rink-side preparing to mollify a bruised child or call an ambulance if need be. Fortunately, the episode ended well. She never lost control; she didn't crash and burn. Still upright, she was convinced she showed enough potential to justify speed skating lessons.

The whole episode brought back memories of my own Olympic moment. I was about twelve at the time and the Summer Olympics had left me, like my daughter, captivated. My inspiration had come from the gymnastic floor routines. Spellbound, I watched the athletes run across the mat and begin their succession of hand-over-hand body flips. "How hard can that be?" I wondered to myself. The next day I found out.

In my backyard, I prepared for my moment of glory. I got off to a strong running start and carefully chose the spot where I would initiate a series of flips - eight to ten, perhaps. When I hit my ideal flipping-spot, I threw my hands down onto the ground beneath me as I launched my 90 pound body up over my hands. Unfortunately, something was missing and I hit the ground abruptly - and hard. My body tingled and I felt nauseous. When I opened my eyes, the world was spinning. However, it was the pain in my neck and back that kept me from getting up and walking to the imaginary podium. I laid there, my thoughts captive to pain and confusion: "Why did something that looked so simple turn out to be surprisingly difficult."

In the end, just like my daughter, all was well. My bumps and bruises went away, and my vision returned to normal. All in all, both of our 'don't-do-this-at-home' Olympic moments proved the point that inspiration needs to be accompanied by know-how. Inspired stupidity can land you in the hospital. Luckily, I didn't break my neck during that brief gymnastic moment; and I'm relieved that Colleen's short speed skating episode didn't result in her being carried-out on a stretcher. I can only imagine that this day's event would have been very different had she been inspired by a figure skater and attempted a triple axle.