The 2010 Olympics are just a month and a half away! It used to be that I couldn't generate a lot of heat for the winter sports. Too many clothes, too much shrinkage due to the cold... but then I discovered speed skating. More accurately, I discovered speed skaters.
What do you get when you train an athlete's body to have zero body fat, maintain a low center of gravity, and be in a perpetual squat and a continual sprint? You get the bizarrely gorgeous proportions of speed skater. The monster quads, gargantuan butts, and teeny-tiny little waists on international caliber speed skaters warm me up on cold winter nights every four years or so.
When I first noticed the godlike proportions of speed skaters in those tights that squeeze, lift, and mold to every crack, crevice and bulge of their bodies, there was just a dull roar in my ears as the blood went rushing out of my skull. But after I recuperated, gasping and sweaty, and I was able to hear clearly again, I was thrilled by the drama that seems to accompany speed skating recently.
The last winter Olympics spotlighted the super egos and trash talk of the top tier speed skaters. Seriously, these boys need to strip to their underwear and climb into a pro-wrestling ring, because they've got the megalomania and testosterone-drunk swagger to compete with any pro-wrestler.
Generally, I've had to use my imagination to catch a glimpse of some serious skin on these gods on ice. Then Apolo Ohno did this provocative ad for the Red campaign for Gap. God bless him for his choice to wear the product as a headband, and nothing else.
Then I stumbled across these fan-freaking-tastic photos by photographer John Andresen of Norwegian speed skater Mats Roger Jensen. I can tell from these pics that there are at least three people in love with Mats' body: me, the photographer, and Mats. All Olympic speed skaters should be required (REQUIRED I SAY!) to get sprayed down and pose in their underwear like this. Look at that ass! I can't take my eyes off it! Just imagine him wrapping those slabs of beef that are his quads around some poor guy's midsection, lacing his ankles together, and then squeezing.
Mats will be making an appearance in my wrestling fiction if I can find some brave soul who could face those incredible quads without pissing himself.
God, I can't wait for the winter Olympics!