So let’s just say it, in the village of Olympic athletes, you’ve gotta think the luge girls aren’t the ones most likely to have a good time.

I was thinking this while I was watching a German lady adjust her face shield into her helmet last night before she clawed (literally) her way off the starting line. Her claw was accompanied by a mighty, beastly call that kind of sounded like “Yawwwwwww,” which could have been spoken in German or could have been spoken in Wolf. Then she tucked in and drove that sled down the slippery course like a boss.

We watched the luge event for about an hour and the whole time do you know what I was thinking? Not that these were amazing athletes, which they were. Not that I couldn’t tell one run from another, unless they actually hit the wall or fell off their sled (OK, I did think about this a little bit, but we’ll discuss further below). But that, seeing these women walk away in their body suits, I sure could probably stand to eat a potato chip or two.

I mean, I’m wincing as I write this because sometimes I’m so shallow I can’t even look at myself. But yeah, I’m going to be honest, that’s exactly what I was thinking. Was I the only one?

Anyway, the reason why we were watching luge (as opposed to skating because, let’s face it, that’s where the drama’s at) is because I’m trying to be more mindful of my husband this Olympic season.

See, I love every part of an evening at home watching the winter games. First off, TV trays. I could write an entire column about how much I love a good TV tray and how cozy it feels set up in front of one in the middle of a cold evening. Second, it reminds me of my childhood, particularly the ’88 Olympics in Calgary, when me and all of my school buddies would get together each morning to discuss the last night’s highlights. Third, I love cheering for Canada and how, finally, for once, it’s not the complete underdog.

On the other hand, William could take or leave the Olympics. For him, the idea of watching sports that he has little-to-no interest in for two whole weeks is a strange kind of painful experiment. So, while he’s committed to watching the games, I’ve committed to keeping it to sports that might be more interesting to him (i.e. no skating).

This is how we ended up watching ski jump, which, even to a Reluctant (and, yes, that should be a noun), is pretty impressive. For hours, we watched beautiful women fly, literally, through the air, getting farther and farther until their jumps were an impressive 110 meters.

My only beef about this sport has been mentioned above: unless they fell or didn’t go far enough, I really couldn’t tell a whole lot of difference in their form or what they did wrong on their takeoff. They tried to break it down in one of the useful video tutorials halfway through, but then they got into angles and velocity and wind speed and I was suddenly too dumb to watch the Olympics.

We’ve also spent a considerable amount of time watching the biathlon this year. Now that is an interesting event, isn’t it? Guns and skis? Could be (is it?) the name of a magazine.

Our only beef was how often the women were missing their targets. In fact, for a second there, we might have said we could do better (hint: never say you can do better than an Olympic athlete unless you are one), until another helpful tutorial explained how difficult it is to stay still to shoot because your heart is beating a thousand times a minute because of the skiing part.

Anyway, all of this Olympics viewing is, I believe, slowly but surely turning William into a convert.  In fact, on Saturday afternoon, he elected to watch a curling match by himself. He likely elected to do this because I can never watch curling without reminding him that I used to be on the curling team in junior high, implying that, of the two people sitting on the couch, I’m the expert here.

That evening, he shared that the curling match featured an American brother-sister team and that the brother looked exactly like the comedian Jim Gaffigan and maybe his sister did too. Also, that it was embarrassing for siblings to say they are best friends, which this duo made the mistake of doing in front of William.

So, basically, all of this is to say that there is some pret-ty intense Olympics analysis happening over here in the Baker-Kaprowy household, most of which has little to do with sport.

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