Picture from eluniversal.com.co
‘What better time for your immune system to break down but during the Olympics.’
This wasn’t a quote from a sarcastic athlete but a facebook status I noticed.
As I lay limply on the sofa for the 6th day in my own flu soup, it dawned on me that this person had a point.
If I’d been sick at any other time, I would be watching ‘Murder She Wrote.’
At least with the Olympics, I still feel connected to society.
For the first few days, I felt connected to the athletes too, as my joints ached as if I’d done every sport that they had.
Of course until yesterday I hadn’t come close to doing any exercise, opting for a bath over a shower so I didn’t even have to stand up.
But yesterday I did get involved in vigorously flapping my hands and blowing at the telly.
It was the triple jump and Caterine Ibarguen of Colombia was in with a chance of a medal.
The problem was her competitors were drawing ever closer to her highest score.
I was concerned that Caterine smiled when she did a bad jump and looked annoyed when she did a great one. Had she lost the plot?
My husband, the Colombian element in my life, was nervous and excited. I was equally altered.
‘We have to create counter wind!’ I cried, as a dangerous competitor got up to take a run-up.
It wasn’t very sportsmanship like, but we started sweeping our hands towards the telly in the hopes of creating a bit of wind resistance.
It was silly perhaps but since the athlete’s jump got a red flag, my superstitions were cemented.
I couldn’t stop now. What if the next athlete did a huge jump? I would only have myself to blame.
For every jump after that, I flapped my arms, blew and created tropical rainstorms.
On her last jump, Caterine secured a silver medal.
Finally I could flop back onto the sofa, coughing and spluttering; another productive day in sick city.