Seeing Bill and Johnny race away from their final pursuer up the final climb into the Olympic stadium, the rest of the world’s best Nordic combined skiers strewn somewhere behind sent shivers up my spine. To see my old roommate headed to the finishline, arms overhead, taking America’s first ever Olympic gold in the Nordic disciplines is the kind of moment I can only hope lands these boys on the front cover of the Wheaties box, and inspires many other Americans to get out and inhale and exhale a little oxygen. Especially in the cold of winter.
The feeling of equipping oneself well, to laying out the performance I could on a big day – even if it wasn’t up to the standard that gets one’s name etched into the annals of time, that’s up there with seeing so many family and friends coming from near and afar to pack the sidelines, and cheer me and my competitors on live trail side. Thanks. Sometimes it’s the grandest of gestures and the simplest of words that mean the most.
Then there’s the image etched in my mind of walking to the front doors of Osborn Elementary a group of fifth graders steal a couple glances back before breaking into a giggle, then running into the building and down the hallways to announce their pen pal’s unannounced arrival back in class. Thanks girls, that made me smile then as it does now to retell the tale.
Is it one of these I will remember? Only time will tell.