The summer Olympics motivated me. As I watched the athletes run, jump, paddle, swim, and pedal, I thought about getting my bicycle out of the garage and charging the hill down the road from my trailer. Then I thought about renting a kayak and paddling down the Whiskey River. As I watched Mike Phelps win more medals, I thought about going to the pool and swimming a mile’s worth of laps.

Then I thought about the batch of peanut butter cookies cooling on my kitchen counter and forgot all about strenuous exercise. It didn’t take long to realize I wasn’t going to do anything more physical than ambling to the kitchen. If such an event ever becomes an Olympic sport for gals heading towards 70, I’m ready.

Most of us are determined to do something about the extra pounds we’ve accumulated over the years. It’s too late to diet when someone unexpectedly passes away and we’re asked to give the elegy. So there we are, standing before the crowd and thinking more about how we look than about the dearly departed. Once again we make a solemn promise to bypass all the sweets waiting for us when the memorial service is over.

I admire athletes who train from their youth to be the best in their sport. Their dedication and overwhelming desire to succeed are testimonies to their mental as well as physical strength. They spend years at the gym or in the pool. Through rain or shine they paddle and run and jump as they perfect their sport. Others lift weights or wrestle, play tennis or volleyball, shoot, sail, fence, box, golf, or dive in an attempt to stand upon the podium and shed tears of joy as their national anthem is played for the world to hear.

But wait a minute. There’s an awful lot of hard work involved in becoming Number One in any chosen sport so why not introduce something a bit less demanding. For years I’ve thought one sport was missing from the Olympic arena, one that will probably never be accepted, but one I think most people would find interesting. It doesn’t require exotic clothing, special training, or expensive equipment. It can be observed in all kinds of weather anytime during the day or night.

Most people seem to have a natural talent for it, and those few without talent can easily join in whenever they think they have something to add. There are no gender or age restrictions. Actually, there are no barriers of any kind preventing participation.

The sport I refer to is the workout of the tongue. Gossiping, in other words. I can see it now. Men and women in pristine suits competing with each other, sweat beading on their foreheads, hearts racing as they reach into their memory banks for juicy tidbits about a friend or relative or co-worker or neighbor. Imagine the energy expended as the gossip gets more intense and the tales get taller. There would be no time limits, no interruptions of any kind, but water would be provided as tongues thicken. Victory would depend upon individual stamina, strength of the tongue, and resistance to any sense of self-control.

The final three gossips would win medals. Losers would head home, eager to spread their venom among willing listeners. Gossiping does require a certain amount of practice, so no time would be wasted. A silly sport you say? Well, maybe, but not as odd as the ancient sport of
Pankration, a rather fierce event in the Greek Olympic games of 648 B.C. if the website www.topendsports.comis believable. Then there’s a sport called the Skeleton that found its way into the Winter Olympics of 2014. Who would have thought?

So maybe my idea has a chance. A slim chance, perhaps, but you never know. I think I’ll write the Olympic Committee and see what they say. It will give me something to do as I polish off the last of those peanut butter cookies just begging to be consumed.

You know what I mean, don’t you?

Meet Sharon