Gold is the new black

Like most everyone in the world, I've been sitting here in awe of the Olympics. In awe of the athletes. In awe of their talent. And, obviously, in awe of their fantastic hotel snafus. I've been sitting here, night after night, taking it all in and feeling like an untalented couch dweller. And then it struck. Inspiration. Enlightenment, even. Because this thought appeared out of nowhere, like four of the five Olympic rings. You? Me? We average folk? We are talented. We are ready. We've been training for years, and we didn't even know it. Fellow Sochi couch spectators, stand tall in your slippers and listen carefully. Four years from now? We. Are. In.

I can hear you thinking, "Come again?" and also, "Are you seriously such an ass?" Well, yes, I am. But really, bear with me, and you too will see the light. My training regimen is so simple, yet really, amazingly effective.

I am a mother of young children.

That's it. That is the whole training, which I will now share with you. In order to help you examine your own readiness level as well as formulate a plan tailored to your lifestyle, I've chosen eight events to illustrate how I plan to reign Grand Champion Extraordinaire. I do realize there are more events to be had, but let's not be greedy. Eight medals should suffice.

So get the DVR ready to record some serious NBC. The good news is that between now and 2018, you should have ample time to delete the 114 Disney Jr. shows taking up all the space. If you can manage this, the plan is already proving to be worthwhile.

{Before you continue, please note that I have broken the blueprint down, event by event, so as not to confuse or overwhelm you with too many fabulous details. I know, I know...You're quite welcome.}

Now, without further ado, The Plan.

From Couch Dweller to Olympic Bling: 
Making Greatness Happen

1. Curling. Because, for all intents and purposes, curling = sweeping. Boom. I've been training for this for damn near eight years. I will rock this.

2. Hockey. My oldest son is a sports fiend. We play hockey in the kitchen, all day, every day. In case you've never fallen in your socks, I will clue you in to this piece of reality: hardwood floors are slippery as hell. Dangerous? No, no. Say it with me. Rink preparedness. And as for the physicality of hockey, have you ever had to wrestle a toddler into a diaper when he's having none of it? I am all sorts of ready for hockey combat. Bring it.

3. This mysterious ski and shoot combination (which, I realize, has an actual name. But it brings me great joy to call it "ski and shoot," so ski and shoot it shall be.) I give to you: Nerf gun war à la suction cup darts. Accuracy honed, people. I also give to you: (occasional) elliptical trainer use. Now, I'm not saying it's exactly the same thing. But I'm not saying it's not. Give me a shot. I will make this happen.

4. Pairs figure skating. (Because if you're gonna go for it, at least have a gentleman in a deep V-neck sequined ensemble by your side.) So let's just say that a person has some previous experience in the air as a cheerleader, the result of which would be pretty decent balance. Let's also presume that this same person, to pass the time while waiting for pasta water to boil, may or may not twirl on the kitchen floor. (Please see hockey re: hardwood slickness factor.) Finally, the third piece that will make this a guaranteed success? Two words. Roller. Blading. (Which is actually only one word.) Gold medal material, friends. Gold medal material.

5. Bobsled. Seriously? I can run while pushing a double stroller with two heavy kids, their cups and their complaints all tucked safely inside. I can even do it on trash day in October, weaving on and off the leafy sidewalk with bursts of speed so as not to become roadkill. So the bobsled? I can push that beast from here to the center of town. Hop in. We'll go get a coffee.

6. Skeleton. I live in New England. I went to college in Syracuse. This girl knows sledding. And I mean, really. How different can it be?

7a. Downhill skiing. Nope. Even with my numerous aforementioned skills, this is not gonna happen. You may not have heard the story called That Time I Tried Skiing in the Alps...I would post an excerpt here, but it has too many swears to be considered decent. Which instead brings us to...

7b. Snowboarding. Sort of. Now this I may be equipped for, and I'll tell you why. Our seven year old got a Ripstik for Christmas, which we've all been testing out. It's board-like in nature, which will serve as my starting point. Plus, I've got four years to train, at which point I will have graduated from the hold-on-to-the-kitchen-counter-for-dear-life level of skill. I'm thinking that after four years, I'll be ready to throw that bad boy down an icy slope. Downhill Ripstikboarding. Patent pending.

8. Short track speed skating. Consider the following scenario: Ice-covered parking lot. Escapee toddler. (Fact: those little punks are fast!) Ice skates or dirty sneakers, it matters not. You navigate the surface of that ice with such speed and agility that you would actually be recruited for the sport. So give me those 80 inch blades, and let's get on with it. I would, however, ask that I be allowed to purchase the spandex outfit in black. I would assume it's slightly more forgiving.

So there you have it. If I have convinced even one person, I have done my job. You and I? We can be amazing. We will be amazing. Spandex or otherwise, the world has not yet seen the likes of us.

***

Finally, one last word for the realists out there. Yes, I do know this is far from legit. But can't you just let me have my dream? Because the other option is that I sit here, night after Olympic night, eating chocolate and contemplating my complete lack of both talent and medals. And that would be just plain sad. If you would allow me this moment of fancy, I promise you can have a ride in the bobsled. Or you can take my sequined partner for a spin. Truly. The choice is yours.