I love the Olympics.
And I'm not just in it for the figure skating.
I love it all: the speed skating, the luge, the skiing - heck - even curling. I'll watch curling and get pumped about it.
And it's not just because I'm a Floridian, who wouldn't know what to do with skis even if I found myself standing atop a pile of snowy, frozen crystals so far above sea level that I'd probably have trouble breathing.
I just love the camaraderie, the excitement, the pure hope and joy one feels when some random stranger accomplishes his or her life-long dream of bunny-hopping over moguls faster and better than anyone else in the world.
In some unexplainable way, it's captivating.
And, also, a little crazy.
Because, seriously, I know I'm a Florida girl, who considers a cool breeze against my bare legs when I run a "winter sport," but in all sincerity, some of this stuff is nuts.
I mean, cross-country skiing is a distance event - in snow - that involves guns. And shooting things.
Bob-sledding involves cramming tons of men in a little car and careening down an icy Slip-N-Slide.
And pairs' figure skating?
It's the only time wholesome American families clap and applaud for scantily clad couples careening about on ice, grabbing each other in semi-inappropriate places.
Yeah, sure, there's tons of athleticism involved. And training. And self sacrifice.
NBC sells us barrel full after barrel full of sports montages about the athlete who started a non-profit for orphaned puppies only to find out that he was being disowned by his native country because of a stolen identity so he was forced to pick himself and his orphaned puppies up and move to Mother Russia where some wizened old coach with Alzheimer's takes pity on him and decides to teach him how to be a true winner, and go for the gold even though they don't speak the same language and are forced to train in an abandoned farm where they spray the ground with a garden hose in hopes that they can create enough ice for practices.
And yet, we buy it. Hook, line, and sinker.
Trust me, I'm not judging you.
I buy it, too.
I cry every time somebody wins a gold medal.
I'll cheer against Americans if the Chinese, Canadians, or Ukrainians have a better sports montage, a better life story, a better ice-dancing costume.
I adore it all.
And yet, I marvel at it.
Because every four years, Americans could care less about football, baseball, and basketball - the sports that serve us all so well, normally, year-round.
At this moment in time, nobody cares if Brett Favre retires or not.
Women are actually turning on ESPN to watch daily highlights, but not of the major league players.
Instead, we all care about the quarter-finals of the speed-skating event.
We all want to know how the world's hockey teams are looking.
We're actually cheering for Lindsey Vonn - a woman with a hurt shin - to throw caution to the wind and go slip-sliding down a ski run in the next few days.
We're holding our breathes and praying every time another athlete slides down that horribly fast luge run.
We collectively gasp when somebody falls on a triple toe-loop.
We cry for that adorable Chinese couple, who - gasp! - were in their 30s when they finally won Olympic gold in pairs' figure skating Monday night.
We tolerate Bob Costas.
And we eat a bag of chips while watching athletes with 0.5 percent body fat slalom down the slopes at break-neck speed.
Granted, it's hard enough to get outside the house and hit the gym when it's freezing.
Even as a Floridian, I get that. I stared at the ice outside my house last night and cursed the fact that I had to go to the gym and teach a class.
And the Winter Olympics?
They give us all the more excuse to hunker down inside and marvel at great athletic feats, while not attempting any of our own.
So, remember, as you tune in tonight to see what happens in men's figure skating (U.S.A! U.S.A!), those athletes have invested years into strength-training, running, skiing, skating, etc.
You can venture out and do the same thing for an hour.
I promise, the Olympics will still be there when you get back.
Along with good old Bob Costas.
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Happy Exercising everybody! Be back tomorrow with more regular ramblings!
