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Armchair athlete exhaustion syndrome

July 31, 2012

Whew!! It’s been an exhausting few days! I have been on an emotional high, and on a strange drug called adrenaline since last Wednesday when we went to the technical rehearsal of the opening ceremony. We re-lived it on Friday night with a few bottles of something sparkly, and were wowed again by the brilliance of Danny Boyle and the amazing cast. The surprises was exactly that – eccentric, hilarious and very clever.

Then the games began ‘proper’ and so began my own marathon, which boomeranged between the remote control and the 24 channels available on the BBC’s red button. Nothing got done, the flat is a bit of a tip, my 4000 word essay on Paradise Lost is not getting written, dinners are sporadic and hap hazard, leftovers and snacks are the order of the day.

I have never been what you call a die-hard sports fan. I love athletics, hockey, cricket – and tolerate most other sports that the old man flicks between on the telly. The standing joke in our house is ‘he’ll watch anything with a ball in it’.  I used to play badminton, occasionally volleyball, ten-pin bowling. That was it. My body was designed for comfort, not speed.

The truth is, I’ve always been a little jealous of those fit and able enough to play lots of sport. I have witnessed what it can do for people, it goes beyond just fitness, the bonds you have socially with people can last a lifetime, and it gives you confidence and many other life skills.

To see the magnificent efforts of our fantastic ‘Team GB’ athletes is inspiring. To get into a sport, you don’t have to necessarily be a sports fan – it is so easy to get caught up in the atmosphere being created by the audiences at each venue, which has proved truly contagious. I have several ‘non sports fan’ friends who have admitted that they have been drawn in by the games. Which is great, as those athletes are doing it for all of us.

So, as we come to the end of day 5, I realise that I might just have to turn the TV off tomorrow, which will be painful, a bit like coming off something a little bit illegal. Then again, I might just ask for an extension for the essay, and sod the housework for one more day….

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