Matt wins the gold

My horseback riding teacher would insist she did not promise that I would go to the Olympics, and of course she would be correct -- she never used the exact word promise.

She just asked if I wanted to ride in the Paralympics in dressage, and when i said sure, she said something like: We'll work toward it. She later said she had been invited to the Beijing Olympics and they were asking about her rider.

I was no doubt naive thinking you could ride in the Paralympics while practicing just once a week. It also did not help that at my first real competition I won two blue ribbons and was invited to ride at a workshop at the U.S. Olympic team headquarters. Or that at my second and last show I came in third, beating an actual Paralympian.

It was also naive to think that my Friedreich's ataxia would not thwart me. Last spring, I was talking to my teacher about riding again after winter, and she had decided I could not ride independently anymore. Not wanting to take a step backward to assisted riding, I hung up my spurs (not that ever used spurs).

I have been thinking about my "Olympic aspirations" as I watch the Winter Olympics.

Unlike other sports, I actually identify with these athletes. Last night before Hannah Kearney skied her gold medal run, my stomach hurt for her. I didn't really feel this way for the Summer Olympians, even though I would not be caught dead in the snow or ice that these athletes embrace.

Then it hit me, after Bob Costas, I think, because he often makes silly grandiose statements, or one of the other announcers said something about how we love these Winter Olympians because they compete in sports that the rest of us find so risky and that they have endurance beyond that of normal people.

Wow, the Winter Olympians are almost as cool as people with disabilities.

Everyone thinks almost anything I do except sitting around watching TV is risky, and my brother probably thinks that is risky because he doesn't have a TV and feels TV rots the brain. Yeah, I know he's silly.

I am not talking about my spring plans to go skydiving, but just everything I do seems to involve risk. Even just rolling my dice in a Parcheesi game threatens to cost me my balance and send me spinning into the board.

And endurance? Forget it, Bob. I deserve a freaking gold medal every day I get out of bed. Today, my legs felt like lead, really painful lead. Not sure why, but I do know it is not unusual for something to hurt. It would be so much easier to stay in bed or at home watching TV.

So what do I want, besides someone to staple Bob Costas' mouth shut?

Well, endorsements for one. I would back Pop-tarts with my life. I also want a two-week TV broadcast about me.

At the very least, I think Hannah Kearney should get a stomach ache when she thinks about me.