The “CAValanche,” as we’ve so charmingly christened it, came at a convenient time this year. Amid the 2014 Winter Olympics, I realized my ultimate dream in life: to be a double Olympic gold medalist in curling and race-walking. If you are not cultured and are thus uninformed about these critical sports, I highly encourage a quick YouTube search.
As you may have already guessed, the onslaught of snow created the perfect training environment for both of my Olympic pursuits. Realizing time is of the essence, I wasted none in my preparation for greatness. As I looked out my sixth floor window and watched the snowflakes gently spiral onto the pavement below, I made a critical decision. I would wait until 4:50 to leave for my 5 p.m. meeting located on the other side of Grounds.
Why, you ask? It was not out of laziness or an irrational avoidance of the cold and snow. I would never. The combination of this self-created time crunch and the snow-slick walkways created the ultimate challenge course for race-walk training.
Opening the door of my dorm, I knew I was about to embark on a fateful journey toward infamy. I felt the adrenaline rush through my body — after all, race-walking is one of the more adventurous activities in my life. I started strong, gaining momentum as I took long strides down the hill and down the steps. I felt my arms pumping in perfect rhythm as I consciously worked on my race-walk form. I cannot afford disqualification simply because one foot wasn’t on the ground at all times. That would be horrendous.
I was feeling pretty good about my prospects — when all of the sudden I felt myself going down.
Now, I’m going to take a moment here to blame this situation on my inadequate footwear. It was absolutely the lack of traction which led to my demise. I could not let this stop me from following my dreams, though. I got up, dusted myself off and pushed through the throbbing pain in my butt. It was a true model of determination and athleticism. I arrived at 5:03.
After my not-so-successful race-walk training, I decided to shift my attention to curling. My primary concern was assembling a team capable of taking me to greatness. I realized the pool of people also interested in curling is extremely large, but unfortunately, I could only take the best of the best into my ranks. With this in mind, I embarked on my hunt for others who shared in my passion for scrubbing ice.
I will admit, this task was much harder than I anticipated. I think people just knew they were not at my level and declined as a means of saving face. After many, many unsuccessful recruitment attempts, I decided to just begin refining my skills solo — at least until the U.S. Curling team contacts me, which was bound to happen any day.
It was then I encountered yet another problem. Apparently, slidable granite stones are hard to come by in college. In an extreme lack of foresight, I forgot to bring my personal collection with me. I also realized my miniature Swiffer duster wasn’t really going to cut it as professional training equipment. Most unfortunate of all, I was confronted by my inability to draw perfect circles.
Left with few alternatives, I began work on my sliding skills. At this point, the sidewalks were dirty, dented with the footprints of those who had walked the paths before me — clearly not the ideal sliding environment. Naturally, I only saw one alternative. I would take my efforts to the street. My friends all watched as I leaped over the 11-inch barrier of snow and into the road — and I glided.
I took to the roads, further developing my highly-coveted gift. Sliding down the pavement, I knew I had found my calling. Already picturing my Olympic curling victory, in that moment, I swear I was infinite.
Then, my moment of bliss was rudely interrupted by a pair of headlights. A car was daring to use the road for its intended purpose. Horrible.
Conceding to my competition, I decided to bring my intensive Olympic training to an end. Based on my experiences, I know glory is inevitable, anyways. And if it doesn’t all work out, I find peace in knowing I can join the Sochi police chorus instead. My destiny awaits.
Sumedha’s column runs biweekly Tuesdays. She can be reached at s.deshmukh@cavalierdaily.com.
Read More
Muslim Students Association Culture Showcase highlights students’ diverse heritage
By Malaika Rehman | 2 hours agoFrom explaining the history of their native countries to sharing pop culture references, students celebrated the similarities and diversity in their ethnic backgrounds.
Cumbre takes Charlottesville to new heights
By Evalina Caruccio | 4 days agoCumbre’s mission to bring authentic and delicious Argentinian flavors to Charlottesville really shows in the taste and presentation of their products.
What — should — that mouth do?
By Anya Johnson | 5 days agoThe language of dirty talk doesn’t come easily.
