Gone Games

The 2016 Summer Olympic Games have come to a close, but before I go back to watching 80s TV shows on Netflix, I'd like to mention a few things about The Games....

First off, even though I watched lots of swimming and track races again this year, I did catch some new events! Such as...

Trampoline. People bouncing really high! And doing flips! I had never seen this competition before; in fact, I was sure it must be a brand-new event. But I guess it's actually been around since 2000. Even so, super fun to watch. Boingggg!

Canoe Slalom: You know what I find boring? Olympic rowing races. Maybe because the camera usually just shows a closeup on four people moving their arms in a repetitive motion for what seems like an hour. Meh. But this year I watched the Canoe Slalom events, and what a difference rapids and obstacles make! Totally fun! 

Equestrian Jumping: Okay, I know equestrian competitions have been around forever, but ANIMALS GET TO BE IN THE OLYMPICS, YOU GUYS! I love that.

The winner of the Equestrian "Jump-Off" I watched the other day was show rider Nick Skelton from the U.K., along with his horse, Big Star. I'm not sure how old Big Star is, but Mr. Skelton is 58, which in Olympic Years means he's pretty much Methuselah. 

Which brings me to something that's been bothering me the past two weeks: The Olympic commentators have an annoying way of making me feel old. They love to talk about the athletes' ages. "This guy's only 18! Wow, what a prodigy!" "This guy's 28, oh... he's getting up there..." "Michael Phelps is 31; gettin' ready to retire!" 

Apparently, anyone over the age of about 32, myself included, is officially geriatric. 

And I get it; I mean, there's a scientific link between age and health and physical fitness/stamina. People in their late teens and twenties are often in their physical prime. They make up the largest number of Olympic competitors. They win a lot of medals. Older people, people over 30, well, we have brittle bones and are prone to gout and should really just go sit in a museum and wait for the end to come.

UGH.

But perhaps because I'm now considered "Olympically Old," I found particular pleasure, this year, in the stories involving athletes who were, well, older. Like Mr. Skelton, the equestrian. Or Kristin Armstrong, 43, who won Gold in the women's cycling time trial.

One lady I really wanted to raise a glass to was Oksana Chusovitina, 41, a gymnast who has actually been competing in the Olympic games since 1992. At her SEVENTH Olympic Games, she flew over the vault like a... well, name your airborne object. In a sport where nearly everyone peaks at about 18 and retires by 25 to become a commentator, coach, or 7th Heaven guest star, Ms. Chusovitina is like, "Where's the vault? Oh, that tiny lil thing? Run, run, run, WHEEEEE! Ha ha! Suck it, teenagers!" (Not her actual words, but, you know.)

Anyway, that's it for 2016. In four years (2020, for the mathematically challenged) the Summer Games will take place in Tokyo. I intend to be watching. I just hope my retirement home has cable TV.

Horsing Around

It hadn't been a lifelong dream.

In fact, for a good twenty years, I couldn't have cared less about doing it.

It only irked me slightly that my brother had gotten to go on one of those circular pony rides as a kid and I had never even touched a horse, much less ridden one. All I ever got to ride was a circus elephant when I was five or so. I was wearing shorts and the elephant's scratchy skin was uncomfortable on my bare legs.

But horses aren't the same as elephants. Horses are in all kinds of movies. They can run like the wind. They can do tricks. You can braid their tails. What other animal lets you braid its tail? 

So at some point, a few years back, possibly during a period of excessive Brisco County Jr. viewing, I decided that my new goal in life was to ride a horse.

Well, actually, what I really wanted was to get cast in a movie where I got to play a heroic western woman who got to ride, nay FLY across a desert on a noble steed in pursuit of A) Bandits, B) A wayward stagecoach, or, you know, C) an escaped elephant. SOME worthy goal, anyway.

But when I came to my senses and realized that was never gonna happen, I decided to settle for just riding a horse, period. Even an old horse whose galloping days were over. Whatever. As long as it was equine, I'd take it. (Yes, I would even ride a zebra, if such a thing were common.)

So. I'm taking a horsemanship class, now. It goes for 8 or 9 weeks.

We are learning all kinds of crazy stuff. Combing fur. Cleaning hooves. Putting on saddles. And, I guess, most importantly... riding.

The first week we rode the horses, it was all good. We walked along, the animals were well behaved and they did their thing.

The next week? The horses decided to revolt.

Actually, it was just this one horse. A big brown guy with an attitude. He was the epitome of naughty. He kept coming to a dead stop. Sometimes he'd even start walking backwards for no reason whatsoever. And if you asked him to go a little faster? He'd burst into a run, as if to say, "Oh, you want to go a bit faster huh? Try THIS!" The only thing he didn't do was completely buck me off. But I'll bet he wanted to.

You know what that means?

That's right. No apple treats. Ha ha on you, horse!

But the other horses were great. At least the ones I rode. And there's this sweet old lady horse that lives at the stables I go to, and I give her treats but nobody rides her because she's an elder.

D'aw, I love her.

I really do love being around horses. After four weeks, I think grooming is my favorite part, though I certainly wouldn't want to do it all day. And while I like riding, I prefer going slow to going fast. Going fast just jangles my nerves.

And so, my illustrious career as a virtuoso horse-riding stuntwoman on the silver screen can be kissed goodbye.

But that's more than okay.