This post could be considered old news but hey better late than never.
Witnessing the highly trained kinetics of the worlds best athletes in Beijing have been exciting at best. Their exhibition of strength and stamina at Olympic feats is always unbelievable. But no matter where you live, there is always a local scene, attempting similar feats, that are far more inspiring than the genetic, best-of seen in HD on the TV.
For example, Ava and I witnessed first hand a different side of Mama. A side that hides behind a kind and loving face. A side that has been chiseled to a state of readiness thanks to months of high-intensity training. A side that exploded into action during the Jordanelle Triathlon. A side that may make a man question his own masculine integrity.
Though we didn't follow Mare on all her events, I did position Ava at the transition station and the finish line. These viewpoints were strategic, I thought, in cheering her on and to boost morale, which they were, but by doing so I never thought I would expose Ava to scenes that by film standards could be considered PG-13. Broken, battered bodies, bleeding and suffering passed by us by the dozens. Several met their accidental tragedy mere feet from Ava's front row seat! Unfazed, she would mutter the occasional and indifferent "ooooh, bike fall down", or "run FASTER" as she nonchalantly laid further back in her stroller and sipped her juice.
Great, I thought, as visions of a mother-daughter adrenaline junkie team, leaving dad in the dust, raced through my mind. I guess I better get my running shoes on.
Fantastic job, Babe!
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