I spent the other evening rooting like hell for a temperature of 10 degrees.

The alert reader may wonder why, given that when the thermometer displays 10 degrees, the description of the weather is never just “cold” – there’s always an adjective in front of it.

My motivation was simple:  At the time it was 0 degrees, and I was going to be spending the bulk of the next day outdoors at the Winter Dew Tour’s Killington, Vermont stop. By comparison, 10 degrees would be a huge improvement. At 10, we’d be talking “excruciatingly painful” as opposed to the “potentially rushed to the hospital” I normally associate with 0.

I really needn’t have worried though. I had the Ski Diva on my side.

The Ski Diva started out as a self-professed Ski Chick, but her years of working in the ski business have undoubtedly earned her a promotion. And for her efforts on my behalf she’s now up for Ski Sainthood (assuming there is such a designation).

In preparation for the “It’s Game Time Somewhere” Winter Swing, she had given me a checklist of clothing articles that I needed to think seriously about bringing along. None of which I actually owned, of course.
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This is a first. I went to a sporting event and I don’t know who won.

Given that I’m a semi-trained, quasi-professional sports-watcher, this is a bit embarrassing to admit. But I have a plausible defense – nobody at the USC vs. UC Santa Barbara dual swim meet I attended recently ever made mention of a winning team. I wasn’t even positive they were keeping score.

Let me tell you about my day, and let you decide if I am guilty of Negligent Spectating…

First of all, I know I’ve previously gone on record proclaiming that ALL aquatic events should be conducted outside – but I was young and foolish then. It was the sunshine and 75 degrees talking. It was now January however, and I was wearing layers to an outdoor aquatic event. Be careful what you ask for.
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It was as if the good folks at the U.S. Table Tennis Association had been reading my blog and knew I was coming. They’d thought of everything in preparation for the arrival of the IGTS Tour. I walked into a dream scenario.

Admission to the U.S. Nationals cost just $5, and included a substantial program full of all kinds of handy information – including a full roster of players listed alphabetically and by bib number. It was delivered with a smile and an eager “Be sure to come back this weekend for the finals!”

They dispensed with the obligatory search of my backpack and person. I had all the tools of my trade at my disposal, with no posted restrictions on camera or video use. I suppressed the urge to hug the woman at the door.
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Maybe it was a case of Sports Lag. After all, I was on the back end of a day-night doubleheader involving two different events in two different towns. Maybe it was the dark and rainy film noir-esque night outside. And maybe it was because I was inside a professional sports arena and there was no discernible buzz.

Whatever it was, it was all a bit odd…

I had come to the Rose Garden Arena, the centerpiece of Portland’s Rose Quarter entertainment district, to see Skate America, a stop on the ISU Grand Prix of Figure Skating tour. But as I made my way around an eerily quiet concourse it almost felt as if I’d wandered into the wrong building.

The concourse didn’t appear to be fully lit, and only a handful of concession stands were open. And in a horrific sight that I hope to never again encounter, all of the beer taps at all of the beer stands had been removed! I still shudder at the visual image.
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Runner crosses finish line at NCAA West Region Cross Country Championships

In 1959, British writer Alan Sillitoe published a short story entitled The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner. It was made into a movie in 1962, and ultimately received enough acclaim to land it on the British Film Institute’s list of the greatest British films of the 20^th century.

I never read the story nor saw the movie. In fact the only thing I’ve ever known about the plot line is that it revolved around cross country running. And that one small nugget of knowledge has always framed my perception of the sport. Cross country = lonely.

Hey, I never said it was a rational perception.
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