Lance, the Brits and My Failed Nap

Watching sports is the default setting for my Saturdays whether in Russia or the U.S. or somewhere in between.  Falling asleep while watching sports on Saturdays is as good as it gets in my book.  Most Saturdays here in Russia, I get to enjoy Curling from Norway or the Strong Man Competition from Malaysia.  A nap is always just around the bend.  A special opportunity was mine yesterday though as EuroSport carried the Tour de France live (all 6+ hours of it) and NTV Plus Online had the British Open live as well.  With my pillow on the floor, remote control in hand, the kids tucked away for their nap and the wife doing the same, I set out to channel switch and fall asleep hoping to wake up in a few hours in that elusive pool of drool. 
 
A funny thing happened on the way to REM sleep though.  Lance Armstrong's march up the mountains of southern France demanded I stay awake.  I could not stop watching him.  200+ kilometers, most all of it up hill, in a little over 6 hours.  What a freak he is.  Meanwhile, at Royal Troon, Phil Mickelson continues to plug away at the myth of his legend as a perennial runner-up.  Slowly, methodically, in his own way, he just kept negotiating that pasture they call a golf course in Scotland.  He's now 2 shots back with 18 to play and in perfect position to build on what has been his best year on tour so far.
 
Both those athletes, for all of their more than obvious differences, shamed me a bit in the same ways.  When tired, I fade.  When frustrated, I wane.  When left out, I stay out.  Paul used the language of sport so many times in his writings.  Press on, finish the race, do not grow weary and on and on.  As a former athlete, I understand that language.  As a (very) former athlete, I know what he meant.  I have no excuse.  Still...
 
By the way, hearing golf announced in Russian is bizarre.  Imagine trying to announce a sport that is played by less than 1 half of 1 percent of your country, that has no words in its own language for par, green, fairway, driver, eagle, bogey or bunker and that has never, ever had one of its countrymen play in much less win a major or even minor golf tournament outside of their own country.  At the half way point of the broadcast, the announcers just stopped talking for about an hour.  It's like they knew no one was listening anyway.  Now if we could just get Stuart Scott to do the same!