The Four Year Plan: 'Become an Olympian'. What do you mean it's harder than it looks?

A conversation with a friend the other evening left me with a lingering thought, not of the romantic kind but rather the kind that offers an intriguing challenge. The motion was this: within four years, someone like he or I could become an Olympian if we really set ourselves to the challenge. Now, I'm quite a sporty guy, but having never played any sport to anything resembling an elite level, I was highly dubious. It is possible, he thought, and perhaps he was right? As well as being sporty though, I'm also kind of lazy. If there was an Olympic sport for laziness etc etc... 

We discussed the kind of Olympic sports that might better suit someone looking for an easy ride as possible to becoming an international standard athlete, from a standing start at the age of twenty-seven...

Running: I fancy myself as a half-decent runner. I've recently been doing some pretty intensive training for a 10K run... on the days when I've felt like it, cos, you know, I'm not a machine. Oh, and obviously sometimes it rains, and I'm not a huge fan of getting wet. Also, I've noticed I get very thirsty when running, and don't like carrying a bottle of water with me because it's too heavy, obviously. Aside from these imposed constraints, which I presume beset all aspiring Olympic distance runners, I think it's doable. Mo Farah barely looked out of breath as he won the 5,000m so it really can't be that difficult. 
OK, so perhaps you've noticed I'm playing the part of the deluded fantasist, and in truth my barely-serious three weeks of training- which has extended to buying a pedometer and eating slightly fewer biscuits late at night- has reminded me in no uncertain terms that running 5k in basically half the time achieved by the average club runner would involve a constant gruelling pain that would require genuine masochism to endure/enjoy. While I do like the feel of a slight scratch, I'm not quite at the clamp and battery level necessary. I'll leave it then, and move on to another idea.

Shooting or Archery: My friend and I reasoned that perhaps a more sedentary sport would provide a more realistic opportunity to become proficient enough to take on the world's best. Also, the world record hold in Archery is held by a legally blind South Korean (not to suggest that he would otherwise be illegally blind), who's technique involves aiming at the centre of a blurry yellow blob. However, having never fired live ammunition or shot an arrow that I hadn't fashioned from loose twigs as a child, developing the muscle memory and concentration seems like very hard work. Plus, if the book and film We need to talk about Kevin taught me anything, it's not to hang around with archers. 

Boxing: Super-massive-heavyweight London 2012 winner Joshua Anthony is living proof that four years is all it takes. The story goes that four years ago he joined his local boxing gym in Finchley to make new friends after moving to the area, and ended up killing them all with a single punch... or something similar. I actually started boxing last year, and really enjoyed it. The technique involved suits my physical attributes quite well and it's certainly satisfying releasing all your rage on a defenceless purpose-built inanimate object (but enough about my friend Rich- zinger!) So boxing really seemed for me. That was, until some bastard punched me in the head while sparring, which really hurt. Obviously I tried to press charges but for some reason the police were totally uninterested. Let's move on...


Coxing: As I sought the next sport to consider, repeating 'boxing' over in my head soon revealed a surprise package: I could sit still, shouting at people substantially larger than me and win a medal if my directions proved accurate. And that's the beauty of it; the directions are really easy. As far as I can tell, it's pretty much 'Keep going straight', 'Yep, keep going', 'That's it, keep going forward, you're doing well' all the way to the finish line. There may be some small print extra details that involve in-depth knowledge of rowing technique or whatever, but I'm sure I'd pick it up... Unfortunately though, I've just remembered I'm 6'1" so my legs would be sticking out the sides dragging along the water like a basketball player on a BMX. Oh well...

An Anaesthetist preps the athlete

Skeleton: I then remembered that there's a whole other season of Olympics, and that Amy Williams, a Brit from my home town of Bath no less, had won gold hurtling herself head-first down a bob sleigh track, or 'icey death tunnel'. While it seems slightly terrifying, presumably they tranquillise you before throwing you on your way. It would just be like sliding down a water park flume, except that the water has all frozen and there's every chance you'll die if you fall off your skeleton, or 'face-first suicide tray'. Next. 

Volleyball: Ultimately, I decided that my greatest chance of going to Rio in 2016 as an Olympic athlete would be as a volleyball player. Beach volleyball would be my preference, but it appears there is little opportunity for social loafing (i.e. not having to do much) as there's only two of you per team. From what I remember from Top Gun, training for beach volleyball also includes intensive fighter jet training involving a compelling yet highly homo-erotic competition with Val Kilmer. Val Kilmer. I wouldn't last a week. 
Having watched an indoor volleyball game at Earls Court, while I in no way doubt the high level of skill possessed by the players, some of them seem basically just to hop up and down at the net, alternating between smashing the ball at the opposition's face and blocking said smashes. I'm a goalkeeper by trade (not literally- I lose money playing football) so getting in the way of the ball is my forte, as is punching the ball at the apex of its flight. Sign me up!.. What do you mean it's not that easy?