Meat management

I was sitting in front of the TV yesterday watching women's swim finals in London (okay, zoning out--hey, the kind of drugs you need for oral surgery will do that to you) when I heard the commentator mention 'meat management'. I was surprised enough to drop my bag of frozen peas (great for reducing swelling), open my eyes, and lean forward.

Wow, I thought. The world certainly has changed when a commentator on NBC can be talking about lithe, lissome lasses while blithely discussing meat management and no one laughs nervously.

I tried to reconstruct the commentary. My drug-addled brain decided they'd been discussing the vagaries of bringing athletes to peak fitness. I decided I liked this acceptance of the body, with no shilly-shallying about women being feminine beings first and great athletes second. I liked it a lot. I drifted off into a reverie of a world in which women and men were truly and equally seen as physical machines while at the same time having emotions that influenced their performance...

And then, of course, it struck me: the commentators were talking about meet management. Meet management (I'm assuming) from two perspectives: the venue people organising the heats, the seeding, the schedule; and the participants, managing their energy and training to bring themselves to a peak at the important moment--while ensuring they don't lose the heats that will get them to that moment.

So, hey, gum surgery's been good for one thing: an interesting vision of the world. Watching the swimming was cool, too. Neither of which would have happened without the vile gum surgery and the lovely drugs that go with it. Moral of the story: never let anyone tell you there are no silver linings. (Though gold, of course, is better...)