Olympic fever

The Olympics are finally here! I have been chattering on for months nowabout how much I couldn't wait, and I think Scott is tired of it. While he geeks out about the Oscars, I am addicted to the Olympics — specifically women's gymnastics.

When I was younger, my sister and I took gymnastics along with our two best friends — also sisters. Our love of gymnastics peaked at the same time of the 1996 Olympics and the Magnificent Seven. This was the year the women's team took home the gold and Kerri Strug vaulted her way into infamy on a broken ankle. 

During that summer, the four of us would turn our friends' living room into an Olympic venue, cartwheeling around the floor, balancing along lines in the hardwoods, and vaulting over the couch. We each took on the name of one of the gymnasts — I was Dominique Moceanu — and marked down scores on a Little Tikes blue easel (Remember that?). My sister was Kerri Strug (they had the same, unfortunate, hairstyle) and played up the limping and heroics of the role. We even had gymnast Barbies who we would reenact various routines with. Those were good times. (We would even do rhythmic gymnastics with our Ribbon Dancers. You have to remember those.)

To add to my anticipation, in this year's games, a Harding graduate whom I had the privilege to interview for the magazine will be running in a track and field event! Janet Cherobon-Bawcom will run in the 10,000 meters August 3, and I'll definitely be streaming it at work and cheering her on.



So, while I might be too old to be an Olympic gymnast, I will still be firmly planted in front of my TV dreaming of flipping and flying my way to gold. Plus, I've got to find a sport to dedicate Preston's life to so that some day Pampers will make a commercial honoring me as an Olympic mom.