Rotten Luck
Even though I went to the Olympics and ended up having the time of my life, I still left my heart in Holland. The reason? It was freezin'! Fate had dealt me another cruel blow, because I had arrived in Holland just as a frost period had ended, and now I was taking off just as another one was beginning. That meant no skating on natural ice for me this winter, because when I came back from the Olympics all that was left were floating chunks of ice. It was as if the ice gods were plotting and conspiring against me. They were saying: "Look, here comes Eddy, let's make everything melt." Or else: "Hey, there goes Eddy, let's freeze everything up."

Reason for Being
Let it be known that I go to Holland every winter in the hopes that the canals freeze solid, because roaming free on a vast network of inland waterways is no imaginary utopia. This winter, the wait for a cold spell was long and agonizing. I had endured almost three months of dreary weather before a cold front from Siberia finally decided to park itself smack dab over the Netherlands, arguably the most skateable real estate in the world. Normally this would be a cause for rejoicing, but to my utter dismay, the Olympics were occurring at a time when the mercury was dropping steadily. In Holland, as I watched Koss on TV storm to a magnificent new world record in the 5000, I was torn between two places.

No Choice
If I could have I would have decided to stay back in a heartbeat (why go when Dutch TV was broadcasting live all the skating in its entirety, or when Eurosport was covering the events 24 hours a day?). For a long time, though, my trip had been set in stone. I would be driving to the Olympics with Bud, who practically had to forcibly strap me into the car in order to get me to go. With Bud around there was absolutely no giving in to the little voices over my shoulder that sang mellifluously like the Sirens: "stay and skate your heart out."

Disappointment
With a heavy heart, I hit the road to Lillehammer. Whenever a forlorn look would come over my face, Bud would know it was those succulent little voices tugging on my ripcord of skating desire. Bud kept reasoning with me that the Games were a once in a lifetime experience I shouldn't miss, but no amount his consolation could lessen the pain I felt at forgoing an equally unique experience back in Holland.

Suffering on Valentine's Day
On the way to the ferry to Oslo, we stopped and saw something that made my heart sink even further -- the men's 500 meter race. With a scant few minutes to spare, we had pulled off the highway and frantically ducked into a TV store in Ahrus, Denmark, to watch DJ do his thing. My heart was racing wildly as DJ waited for the starter's gun. Before we knew it, on the anniversary of his sister's death, DJ's skate had thrown two long trailing plumes of ice. My heart stopped dead. His golden dream had slipped away once again. We all hurt for DJ. My eyes, which had welled up with tears, couldn't bear to watch his exasperated, broken look after the race. We watched a few more pairs and left after all medal hopes had been dashed.

When You're Down the Only Way is Up
Somehow, this was a turning point for both of us. I realized that my hurt at not being able to skate natural ice in Holland was trivial compared to the pain and disillusionment DJ was experiencing. The tragedy in his sporting career as I saw it then wasn't that he would never be an Olympic champion in the race he was known to have owned, but that he couldn't offer the gold to his family and all the people who had wanted for so long, so badly, for him to win it. Like DJ must have done on that day, I formed a resolve to do the only thing possible: not to dwell on what could have been, but simply to go forward and make the most of what lay ahead. In retrospect I think we both succeeded on that count.

New Beginning
I woke up to scenery that could have brightened any mood. Stretching out before me as the ferry pulled into Oslo was a spectacular fjord. A beaming sun was dancing on the mantle of snow that blanketed everything in sight. The games had begun. I was dizzy with expectation.

Medal Harvest
And what an Olympics in turned out to be. DJ came through big time and so many of our other skaters did too. We moved from one celebratory experience to another. The women's short track relay team took bronze; Bonnie Blair struck gold; Bonnie got gold again; Cathy Turner snagged gold and Amy Peterson took bronze in the 500; Eric Flaim skated a clutch final leg of the 5000 relay to secure a silver for the men's team.

The Boss
Because we were in Norway, and because there the most popular events are the longer ones, the real hero of the games was to be Johan Olav Koss. Koss owes his popularity to living legend Hjalmer Anderson. "Hjallis", who won three golds during the 1952 Winter Games, had taken care of infecting everybody in Norway with an eternal Olympic fever. Our hotel room window overlooked the very oval on which "Hjallis" had shattered by 19 seconds the preexisting 10,000 meter record.

Improbable World Record
In anticipation of a new world record, a Norwegian paper had published the splits of an imaginary one: 13:32.6. That was exactly three minutes faster than Anderson's time in 1952, a time that no one thought would ever be equaled.

Consumed by Fire
There were 14,000 cheering people on hand when Koss skated his mythical 10,000.
Koss seemed invincible from the start. With a skating style that is totally relaxed, he was so deceptively strong. In the 10,000, Koss gave the illusion of effortless power by squeezing out 25 of the most monumental laps that were ever skated in the history of speedskating. Every time he came around and his ridiculously low lap times flashed overhead, the Viking Ship erupted in flames. The man was indefatigable.

Koss's machine-like regularity gave him the aura of an oppressor as he crossed the line in 13:30.55. After the race one of the ushers pointed out to me that if broken down into 20, 500 meter segments, Koss had covered each 500 meters in 40.5 seconds. Unreal. To me that's a sign of someone with some serious content--not just in his legs but also in his heart and between his ears. Without a doubt, Koss was Boss.


The Gold Standard
Koss performed feats of athleticism that defied apprehending. What I do know is that Koss captured my imagination by allowing me to witness something unbelievably beautiful, something that embodied everything about what being an athlete is all about. I think I can speak for a lot of people by saying that reaching for that level of perfection is the reason we're all busy doing sports.