Olympic Resistance

Over the last 16 days, my poor husband has been tortured and abused. I’m the one responsible for his suffering. In fact, I inflict my cruel punishment on him every two years.

How? I watch the Olympics every night (and sometimes during the day). 

My husband, a baseball and football fan, does not like the Olympics. I can’t think of one sport in the summer or winter games that he remotely tolerates. I, on the other hand, have been watching and enjoying the Olympics since I can remember.

Olympic ResistanceThe first Olympics I remember watching was the 1976 Winter and Summer Olympics (yes, there was a time they both occurred during the same year). Every girl I knew, me included, wanted to be Dorothy Hamill after the winter games. Every boy I knew, wanted to be Bruce Jenner after he won gold in the decathlon at the summer games. 

My husband has never loved the Olympics. He never really watched them as a child, likely due to a lack of interest on his part (apparently they did watch them in his home, although not every game, not every night like they were watched at my house). It wasn’t his thing. 

However, despite his aversion to all things Olympics, he tolerates them because he knows how much I love them. He listens to me as I explain the rules or history of certain sports in the games and will grunt his acknowledgement, despite not caring one bit for what I said. 

Now, on the last day of the games, he is “over” them. They can’t end fast enough for him, because he has watched them, listened to me prattle about them, and been unable to escape the games for over two weeks. 

Tomorrow, when he wakes, he will have a smile on his face. The games will be done, and he will have control of the remote control again. Life will return to normal.

While I will be a bit sad to see the games end, I will be forever thankful for a husband willing to suffer through watching and living the Olympics despite the torture I know they bring him. He is a good man, a patient man, and one who will want payback at a later time. I’m sure of it.

Originally posted on Adventures of a Jayhawk Mommy


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