Dashed Dreams
I cannot get enough of the Olympics. Any event and there is immediate buy-in. It may be the remnants of my yesteryear days as a cheerleader or that I simply love the excuse to stay inside during 101 degree days and watch tv – but I love the Olympics. I do the obvious: I choke up when the cameras scan to the parents, I cheer on my feet during a heated race, and I cry when the athletes realize their victory. But more than anything, I find myself thinking about the losers. I can’t stop from thinking about how it
