The Post About Swimming Boys

I would not say I am an Olympic fanatic. I enjoyed the beatdown of 1994 between Nancy Kerrigan and Tonya Harding. I wouldn't mind being carried to work by Bela Karolyi like Kerri Strug circa 1996. I wish I could ski like Bode Miller (without the alcohol.) Otherwise, no significant Olympic moments lingering.

But I have been caught up (like much of the country) in a little event called swimming. Personally, I could leave the activity in the water where I found it. This is likely due to the swimming REQUIREMENT imposed on me by one Emory University. Repressed memories of survival swimming for 60 minutes in full clothes without touching the sides or bottom of the pool. I "survived" because of my roommate Angie who would float into me while humming "Galileo" by the Indigo Girls (alums of the same torturous swimming school).

The mens' relay last night was pretty phenomenal - the Americans were expected to win silver. This was the reaction when they realized they won gold:
If Michael Phelps goes on to win 8 gold medals (a record) then he will have to be sending a nice fruit basket to Jason Lezak. Jason swam the anchor of the relay and won it after being behind a full length...

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