(I know, the Olympics are not yet over, but I am a fickle fan and as we are not winning everything anymore I'm distracted).
Barack Obama has picked Joe Biden as his running mate. He's taken him on board to counter his inexperience in foreign policy. Biden is a long time Washington insider, he is straight talking, he's not perfect and he's from North Eastern Irish Catholic roots.
In short, hes Leo. I can't help but get more and more alarmed at how this campaign is matching up with West Wing Series Seven. A nice Republican. A young and non WASP Democrat. An international issue that might have repercussions. Its nuts. Lets just hope we don't get the election day tragedy of Wing! (though the result might be nice).
Another good day at the games! High point Natasha D-S.. oh and the Oscar speech from the Windsurfing chick...
But in a mid afternoon lull in the medal tide I picked up maybe the first really negative whinge. It was Brendan Foster who was moaning (not an original but quite an apt word) about the demise of Britain's middle distance running. He was mean, harking back to a golden age, when we were good.
Now I don't wanna cause a fuss but I have to take issue on a number of levels. First- I was growing up during the alleged "golden age". Yes, those two Olympics in a row with missing superpowers. When Coe or Ovett would often drop out with a cold (I have a soft spot for Crammy so he gets off lightly here). Oh, and yes the golden age took place before the African resurgence (or certainly before the African athletics beast was awakened!)
Second. Look at the changing demographic of Britain. Then look at who is winning medals. Thats consistent.
This deserves a mention. I should have left the sofa by now but instead found myself watching the superheavyweight weightlifting. Not exactly the pretty boy sport! The German winner (Steiner) managed to illicit tears as he stood, gold medal in one hand and picture of his wife in the other. Remarkable because she died in a car crash last year and he vowed he would win gold for her.
I really need to move. I haven't really left the house for two days. But who would. Everywhere we turn there are medals dropping into the lap of Team GB! And not only that- they are providing me with sermon stories.
I have so so much untapped adrenalin running round my body...
Gonna go and cry at Christine Ohuragu getting her medal... wooo haaaaaa!!!!!!
Mara Yamauci, and Fran Hansall. Forgive the spelling. Its late.
But Mara Yama... she got sixth. She deserves some column inches for that, rather than the many that will be written for Paula finishing (though that was heroic in its own way). Also noble mention for Liz Yelling who ran maybe 18 miles with cracked ribs. They are mental!
And Fran Hansall balled and was thoroughly gutted for not winning a medal despite getting a new European record. Good attitude lady!
So the 5th cry of the Olympics is one that I have cried at at least three other times. Sydney 2000, Matthew Pinsent crawling down from the stroke seat to hug the man who had just won his fifth Olympic gold in a row (thats Sir Steve Redgrave for the sporting illiterates among you). I'm welling up even typing it.
Rowing has a very special place in my emotive heart- the sheer effort that is required to power through 2000 metres of water, the amount of dedication to one another that is needed to keep the boat in line. The self sacrifice of ego that is required: in no other sport is there such a need to not be an individual star. The hours of early morning freezing training. I have such respect.
So, expect more posts about crying on Saturday (yes I have a wedding too!): roll on the finals.. Go GB!
So this is a reflective post but also a wee bit of a plug. I haven't lived in the same place for more than four weeks since Easter. For the six months before that I couldn't really call the place I was staying in a home. For the last six weeks I have been living out of my car.
So what is home?
I think a bit of me used to think it was a building, but I'm beginning to realise that home is about people. In one of my places of abiding this last year I had an enormous bed to die for. It didn't make it home. In my Luton house, I have matching crockery, its not home. In my study room I have all my books and things to live- that doesn't make it home. In my car I have everything I have needed for the last few weeks.. no, not home.
As I have travelled I haven't missed place or stuff or gadgets or a washing machine that I know how to work. I have missed people. Having them turn up and visit, or finding myself with them in parks, on showgrounds, on beaches.. tha…
This is not a political post. This is an observation. Christian men like putting photos of them with Bishops on their facebook pages. I have counted four among my friends. Thats like 1% of all friends.. so maybe 2%. Which is a lot. Considering there are like.. err.. not that many bishops..