I am writing this in a state of exhaustion.

Because apparently, during the Winter Olympics, I turn into a person who thinks sleep is optional. And I love sleep. I don’t like sleep. I love sleep maybe more than I love bacon! Sleep and I are in a committed relationship and Milan 2026 is trying to homewreck it.

Who feels me on this?

Because what is this obsession we have? We do not spend the other 1,460-ish days thinking, “You know what I’d enjoy tonight? Watching people fling themselves down a frozen mountain at speeds that should require a waiver and a prayer.” There are other times to watch highlights. There are replays. There are recaps. There are clips. There are entire internet rabbit holes.

And yet… here I am. Up until 11:00ish “just one more event.” Then 11:32. Then 11:58. Then it’s tomorrow.

My saving grace? My office hours don’t begin until 10:00am. BAHAHAHAHA. Now yes, that’s technically when the office opens on Main Street. But let’s be honest, I start working before I’m even fully awake. I’m answering emails and fielding texts before I ever get out of bed, like some sort of pajama-clad customer service gremlin.

Anyway. Back to Milan 2026. All of it. Do we actually care about half of these sports any other time? No. Not like this. But the Olympics hit and BOOM… we all become professionals. Coaches. Judges. Analysts. Commentators. Nutritionists. Therapists.

Especially when it comes to Curling suddenly? Curling. Seriously. What is that? It’s like someone mixed bowling and shuffleboard, sprinkled in some icy rage, then handed everybody brooms like, “Go on, make it intense.”

And tell me why I’m plotting like I know anything, critiquing strategy like I’ve been Curling since birth. At this point, Tammy and I are going to recreate it next week at the office with a couple of long-handled squeegees and whatever random discarded trash has been abandoned on Main Street. The pigeons shall judge. Harshly.

But honestly… these athletes are incredible.

You laugh. You cry. You yell at your TV. You hold your breath like it’s your own knees that could buckle at any second. The dedication, the talent, the sheer nerve of it all… it’s unreal.

I love the snowboarding events… especially that halfpipe. I have always loved the half-pipe. That’s my thing. It was Shaun White not so long ago, then Chloe Kim and now that I think she’s going to pass her gold-winning ways on… who’s next? Who’s the new half-pipe legend in the next Winter Olympics? Because I will absolutely be up past my bedtime to find out.

And those speed-skaters? LORD. Erin Jackson and Jordan Stolz… the power in those legs. The control. The speed. I watch them and immediately feel guilty about every time I’ve said, “I’m too tired to unload the dishwasher.”

And the beauty of it all? Figure Skating. Chock and Bates were just stunning with that whole Matador performance. Straight up art. My heart was broken for Ilia Malanin, but he will be back. The great ones always are. Then there’s Maxim Naumov, who is an absolute amazing young man to move forward after losing his parents last year. That kind of strength? You don’t fake it. You don’t “get over” something like that. You survive it. You carry it. You keep going anyway.

Now… we also need to address the part of the Olympics that makes you remember humanity is gonna human. Yep. That human.

Like the dude who thought publicly admitting he cheated on his girlfriend and asking her forgiveness was a good plan. Sturla Holm Lægreid. Sir. No. That would be a no. A hard no. A no with a side of NO.

But listen… it’s the glory. It’s the drama. It’s the wipeouts. It’s the big air. It’s the emotional whiplash. It’s the moments that make you ugly cry and the moments that make you jump off the couch like you’re on the team. And yes, it’s Snoop. Somehow. Because why not.

So here I am. Sleep-deprived. Over-invested. Emotionally attached to strangers in helmets and sequins. Fully convinced I could be a professional Curling judge with two hours of experience and a strong opinion.

And when it’s over, I will get some sleep.

Peace out.

XOXO, Jani