Nuala McKeever: Spitz was my golden boy of the Olympics
As the scales in my bathroom would attest, if I had such an object of torture in my bathroom, I’m not a sporty person.
I ran a half marathon years back and have been resting (and over-eating and drinking) on those laurels ever since.
However, there’s part of me that envies the sporty types.
I know that inside this well-upholstered frame, there is a body that could run, leap, swim, dive, cycle and back flip competitively... if only I got it into shape.
I also know there’s a body that could throw things competitively without training, if only I was in a bad enough mood.
But I’ll never be an Olympian. I don’t hate the Olympics, I just don’t leap to book tickets to see them.
I think my interest in the Games peaked with that poster of the swimmer Mark Spitz and his seven gold medals, spread across his tanned, smooth chest, in the 1970s. Excuse me, I need to lie down a moment
Okay, I’m back. So with only 400-plus days to go, I wish the Olympics all the best.
Not sure why tickets cost so much, are so hard to book and are only available for about half the seats for the big events, but hey, as they say — it’s the taking part that counts, isn’t it?