I swim (see last post). I swim well. Sometimes - as some of my bar colleagues have discovered - too well. But, my real sport has always been the Men's 56 Kg weight lifting. There is something about little men lifting several times their own body weight that I find inspiring. Tony never came close to qualifying and I don't hold that against him. But Liam. As a young lad well within the weight threshold he chose to go out drinking rather than make use of the No. 10 Gym. As mothers we get used to shattered dreams, but I think my sons' lack of interest in the sport was particularly hard to take.
Without subscriptions to certain channels which Tony won't let me have it's almost impossible to watch 56Kg events, particularly with a schedule as busy as mine. But I still love to watch the little men and the Olympics is a break in my cloud. A sunshine of big muscles on little arms. An opportunity to see, in the flesh, what my sons could have been. What a tournament we were treated to. Men from Indonesia, North Korea, China, Viet Nam and other countries with little men lifted and lifted and lifted. And then they lifted some more. And finally, when the chalk dust settled and the dumb bells stopped bouncing we had an Olympics 1,2,3: China, Viet Nam and Indonesia: Little Men with Muscles on a podium. What more can a barrister ask for?
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