Big event, this nordic skiing world cup in Oslo. I guess. There was one in Trondheim in the nineties, which I didn't miss. I remember standing out in the deep snow with a flag and a classmate watching the men's relay event. Waiting, waiting, waiting, then waving the flag for about 1,8 seconds as a skier passed so quickly we could barely make out if they were on the Norwegian team or not. Freezing, waiting some more.
This time, I steered well and truly clear of the whole thing, up to and including staying out of the city centre for the duration. Wheeling around a buggy with a small (well, young) baby in it among crowds of tourists with big rucksacks with flags poking out - poised to take out an eye or two at any given moment - on the tube: Not My Thing. Not unlike skiing itself: also Not My Thing.
I caught some of it on TV though. Not on purpose mind you, but I was flipping through channels and laughing out loud at a picture looking something like this:
and commenting what great television this was, when the picture turned into something like this:
and some ten seconds later, Marit Bjørgen crossed the finish line and took yet another gold medal for Norway (or Trøndelag, if you will). Excellent timing, in less than half a minute I took in all that I would have been interested in seeing had I made a conscious effort to see something. My heart goes out to to those who tried to watch the whole thing.
Now it's over, and people like me are allowed back into the city centre. I plan to celebrate by taking baby Oscar to the cinema. And perhaps sampling the goods from the Ben and Jerry's that opened just in time for the championship.
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