Olympic sprints
I love the Olympics. LOVE them. Summer or Winter I will inevitably be glued to as much coverage as I can feasibly manage given the varying time difference (darn you Rio). And that’s not just to my favoured events either, I very quickly find myself getting draw into the intricacies of ping pong, archery and rhythmic gymnastics. Mid-Sochi 2014 I developed an almost unhealthy obsession with mogul skiing (I mean have you seen them?!) and one which I soon realised did not translate to my own skiing abilities the following winter. Lesson - if you do want to propel yourself down a black mogul field don’t get the fear halfway down.
And I’m clearly not alone. The last Olympics in London (okay, i’m bias but they were brilliant) delivered the biggest national television event since current measuring systems began, with 90% of the UK population (51.9m) watching at least 15 minutes of coverage. And from personal experience I’d say the other 10% were in town watching it live. After rather pessimistic lead in support from the British public (would you expect anything less?) from the minute the opening ceremony began we got behind it full swing. Revelled in it in fact. The sun shone, the people came, the volunteers grinned and, would you Adam and Eve it, we won stuff. A lot of stuff. So many great triumphs, from Super Saturday glory to Chris Hoy’s thighs (I’m sorry but they couldn’t go unmentioned). One great memory for me was being stuck on a South West train out of London (that’s not the great bit - just the norm) while missing the tennis final with Andy Murray. Then from down the carriage voices starting murmuring, news making it over the pitiful wifi connection that he had clinched the gold! Shouts and cheers broke out, grins all over and chatter erupting. Now I said South West trains, please understand this is a place where the briefest of eye contact is usual tantamount to social suicide. But not in those few weeks. We changed.
I think what I also love to absorb are the inspirational stories that accompany these gods of the arena. The stories of toil and heartache, the dedication and determination that lead someone to reach such a zenith in their field. The road to success or the path to failure, all those years of self-sacrifice can often be dashed by the smallest of margins, or history made with the swell of the crowd in their favour. Whatever the outcome these awesome specimens can’t fail to inspire. Be it their dedication, their skill, their triumphs in the face of adversity, we can all take something away from their stories. That desire for excellence and working your butt off to achieve it, is something that can translate in all of our lives - even when there isn’t a shiny gold medal at stake.
Now, if all that athletic prowess has you feeling inspired, here is a little beauty of a sprint workout to make use of all that fitness inspiration (after all, Olympic appreciation is a little heavy on sofa time). It will only take you 30 minutes, as not to eat into valuable viewing time, and will leave you feeling podium worthy by the end. Compose yourself for the ensuing national anthem - no one likes a blubber.