The Olympics are great. Sports and teams and anthems and high-five montages got me feeling all kinds of Olympic Spiritish. I’m cheering. I’m crying. I’m fist-pumping and whoop-whooping.
I’m feeling like a useless sack of potatoes.
I’m watching teenagers swim further in two minutes than I ever have in 29 years, yelling at them like an expert to ‘Go, go! Use your legs!’, while simultaneously reaching for another handful of chips.
The Australian women to look out for in the Rio Olympics. Post continues after gallery.
That pretty much sums up the Olympics for me. Critiquing amazing people doing amazing things with their amazing bodies, while deciding I can’t be bothered going to the gym today for the 124th day in a row.
Why you should never compare the Olympics to your own sad, underachieving life.
Mack Horton is winning his first gold medal at 20 years old.
At 20 years old, I was drinking UDL’s out of a beer bong and drawing on my arm with a Sharpie.
Mack Horton was born in 1996. He was still being born-ed while we were all dressing up as Ginger Spice. I still think 1996 was exactly 10 years ago. Sorry Mack. Well done Mack. Does anyone call you Big Mack? They should.
A 41-year-old gymnast is at her seventh Olympic games.
I can't touch my toes anymore because my back twinges
and sometimes my knee hurts when it's cold.
Oksana Chusovitina is competing for Uzbekistan against 17-year-old competitors (the same age as her son), and she's still hoping to be in the next Olympics. Settle down, Oksana. You're making us all look pathetic.
Our Women's Rugby Sevens team won gold, and only learned the sport four years ago.
I've been playing netball for 20 years and I'm still foggy on a few rules.
Throw-in: Foot on the line? Foot behind the line? Eh. Also, I'm slowly getting worse and I think my teammates secretly want me to quit but they know I bring chocolate sometimes.
The Olympians spend four years training, and then they start training for the next Olympics.
I've had the same book on my bedside table for the last four years but I still haven't finished it.
At least now I don't remember a single thing that happened in it, so I can just read it fresh. Check back with my in four years, I might have actually accomplished something.
Some Olympians have sad back stories and have made great sacrifices to represent their countries.
I am so emotional from hearing their stories I need to have a nap.
And a nice glass of port. Maybe a bath. I could read that book on my bedside table. Wait. What was I watching again?
Gold medallist Cate Campbell. Image via Getty. /img_caption]
Olympians are cheering each other on in the Olympic Village.
I am watching highlights on Instagram
because it's quicker and my Olympic spirit is keen but also easily distracted.
I like to watch replays of when an Australian wins a medal, but I don't care for watching a whole triathlon or the hockey unless it's the last two minutes and it's exciting.
The Olympians are doing unimaginably impressive things with their human bodies.
I am on the couch with sausage roll crumbs on my lap holding up imaginary low-scoring cards because that guy didn't stick his landing.
We all become experts every four years. Except in dressage. What the fuck are they even doing in dressage?
Look, the Olympics are bloody inspiring and impressive and emotional to watch. I feel connected to the athletes in ways I can't explain (especially strange because I've never excelled at a sport in my life). I'm so proud of the young Aussies, kicking ass and representing us in a foreign country at an age where I was still learning about washing machines. I think they're amazing.
Now excuse me while I google 'how to be good at running' while lying on the floor eating cheese.
Leisel Jones on the aftermath of her gold medal win.