I wonder what I will remember. Not now, but years from now. Settling down by the water's edge at the family cabin, watching the alpenglow slowly fade away, I wonder then what I'll take - what I'll feel the most - from these last days. The days and reminiscences under the banner Vancouver 2010. The highs. The lows. The gutters and strikes, peaks and valleys. A question whose answers can come only full with the perspective of time. My hope is that the good memories outshine the rest, and I'll be able to pick up all the pieces from the rest, and, to steal a line from Jimi Hendrix, make an island / might even raise a little sand
Seeing Bill and Johnny race away from their final pursuer up the final climb into the Olympic stadium, the rest of the world's best nordic combined skiers strewn somewhere behind sent shivers up my spine. To see my old roommate headed to the finishline, arms overhead, taking America's first ever Olympic gold in the nordic disciplines is the kind of moment I can only hope lands these boys on the front cover of the Wheaties box, and inspires many other Americans to get out and inhale and exhale a little oxygen. Especially in the cold of winter.
The feeling of equipping oneself well, to laying out the performance I could on a big day - even if it wasn't up to the standard that gets one's name etched into the annals of time, that's up there with seeing so many family and friends coming from near and afar to pack the sidelines, and cheer me and my competitors on live trailside. Thanks. Sometimes its the grandest of gestures and the simplest of words that mean the most.
Then there's the image etched in my mind of walking to the front doors of Osborn Elementary a group of fifth graders steal a couple glances back before breaking into a giggle, then running into the building and down the hallways to announce their penpal's unannounced arrival back in class. Thanks girls, that made me smile then as it does now to retell the tale.
Is it one of these I will remember? Only time will tell.