****
So, I’m watching a Track-and-Field segment of the Paris 2024 Olympics, and I see some nice-looking women taking high-jump runs…when a thought crosses my mind. Is this all these women will do in the Olympics? Is the high jump their only event? Their sport?
Imagine that. You train however long you do, back home, and then come to Paris to focus solely on jumping high (and then retreating to your green sleeping bag, which does what?). [Is that supposed to keep your legs warm? Is it actually cold in a French stadium when so many others are suffering from the heat?]
[On that note, who is this tall, lean, attractive woman, with bold, bright eyes and braided hair, from the Ukraine? Yaroslava Mahuchikh…hmm. She is interesting. Hopefully that mouthful of a name, which sounds a little like something unpleasant, means something pretty because she sure is. Can I call you Yara? But, why did she blow her last jump?…why not go out looking as stellar as you started? Was that a distracted slip or intentional (a fail just to breathe a sigh of relief and kick expectation in its face)?]
I’d be a little distressed and probably mentally fractured if all I had to do in the Olympics was the high jump (or any of the other Track events). If I’m not taking a shot at running, shot put, archery…something other than just jumping high…maybe a long jump?…I’d lose my mind. Unless…unless I spent a ton of free time enjoying France when I’m not jumping. If the high jump was just a small portion of my time spent in Paris…and it was like partaking in an interview or relieving myself in a restroom…then I might not get so upset. If doing the high jump is like a voice-actor role you just do, walking into a sound studio for a short time, because you have so few lines to read, maybe I could balance my life.
But, if I’m treated like a gymnast or race horse, bred for that one event, submitting myself to years of training and preliminary competitions for one singular skill which lasts less than fifteen seconds……that’s insane. [And, seeing one gal repeatedly make notes in a journal after every jump?…looks a little crazy sauce. I bet she was a social outcast in high school; her classmates just walked past her and put up with her perpetual optimism mask.] That’s not American-Ninja-Moron competition, which is also a crazy fad seemingly brainwashing countless young individuals into treating themselves like military mice in a varying maze. That’s committing your lifetime to breaking a board with one hand.
So, what do YOU do, attractive string bean I am meeting on a first date? Oh, you jump high. That’s what you do. [Awkward silence and maybe a few crickets chirping.] Nice…legs. [That’s all I’ve got to say. Or, is it? Maybe I start thinking of all the creative, silly things someone with good legs could do.]
Writingbolt's Creation 