There is nothing more inspiring than sitting on the couch in your "attractive" flannelette pyjamas with a hot milo in one hand and as many biscuits as you can hold in the other, watching the world athletics championships late at night.
I feel my most beautiful (not) at this time.
Watching these athletic men and women jumping, running, throwing, and hurling to their mental and physical limits makes me turn around and put a few of the biscuits back in the tin.
The guilt and self-loathing is worth it though to witness what is a visual symphony of athleticism.
From the small endurance runners with that half-starving look in their eyes, to the bulkier frame of the field athlete who has mastered the art of moving all their body parts harmoniously and powerfully to achieve maximum airtime.
Despite all the technological advances in sport, when you boil it down to the essence of what is going on it is still about running as fast as you can around a 400m track, or jumping as far as you can into a sandpit.
Of course, technology has influenced this purest of sport forms with regards to training, nutrition, and in some cases doping. It has also meant officials don't have to rake the sand pit anymore, or rely on having good reactions to start the stop watch to coincide with the starter's gun.
I'm a sucker for the drama. The pure emotion and effort etched on the faces and bodies of these modern day gladiators is awesome.
I just about spilt my milo when Usain Bolt false started and then ripped his shirt off in devastation when he realised he'd be disqualified from the 100m final.
A shorter and slower, Yohan Blake couldn't believe his luck when he crossed the line in 9.92 seconds to win.
Who would have thought 9.92 seconds for 100m would be considered slow? A biscuit went flying across the lounge floor as Ibrahim Jeilan from Ethiopia ran past Mo Farah from Great Britain in the last 50m of the 10,000m race. The look on Farah's face was priceless.
The slow motion replay showed the whites of his eyes as he looked sideways in disbelief as the Ethiopian whizzed past him like he was in a sprint race.
I held on tight to my oversized pyjama pants as I jumped for joy with our No 1 athlete in New Zealand, Valerie Adams, when she realised her final throw of 21.24m had given her the gold medal. I love how authentic she is.
She embraces her power and athleticism and isn't apologetic about it. She summed up her performance the quintessential Kiwi way when she said she "smashed the crap out of the shot and away it flew".
That one belongs up there with Sir Edmund Hillary's "knocked the bastard (or was it bugger?) off" quote after climbing Mount Everest. Priceless.
She is a truly amazing athlete and one that should be acknowledged for her ability to stay at the top, continue to improve, and overcome obstacles.
She is red hot and looks likely to take gold in London next year. She not only smashed the crap out of the shotput, she smashed several records. Her final throw was the longest throw outdoors for 11 years, she bettered her personal best and New Zealand record by 17cm.
She equalled the world championship record set in 1987. She is the second person to win the event three-times in a row, and the fifth woman to win three world championship titles. Should we even bother with the voting rigmarole of the Halberg Awards again?
The netballers didn't win, the Black Sticks did well but that isn't their pinnacle event, and I can't think of any other female athlete or team that has achieved greatness of this magnitude so far in 2011. And apparently Valerie still has more to give.
Switzerland and new coach Jean-Pierre Egger must agree with this Polynesian girl from the Pacific. She has got her bounce back and is more focused, so whatever you're doing Valerie keep doing it.
If you ever do get tired of dominating the women's shotput world, you are most welcome to come and play rugby with us pyjama-wearing and biscuit-eating dwellers in New Zealand.
Now where did that biscuit land?
