Wyn Drabble: Picking your Olympic strength

Athletes compete during the men's 20km race walk at the 2016 Summer Olympics in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Photo / AP

I've chosen my sport. I guess it was the stirring sight and sound of the gold medal ceremonies with their national anthem and their flag-raising. Usually, the correct flag. And look what winning gold did to the Fijians!

So, I thought, I need to be part of that; not as a TV viewer but as a person standing on the podium. (Have you noticed how "podium" and "medal" have become verbs? "He's blown his chance to podium." Eerrgghh!)

But I digress as I usually do on matters of linguistic interest. Back to the sport.

I've never been a great sportsman. My best success was as a sailor at one of Sydney's sailing clubs where for two years running I was Laser class champion. I must have had abs then but they've been replaced by flabs.

All too strenuous for someone who is no longer a spring chicken.

At my age it needs to be something more sedate. Parallel parking, perhaps? Or rose pruning.

I've just finished pruning a hundred-odd around the house so I'm probably at my peak. In pruning I'd probably podium (if I don't embrace the lingo, I won't be taken seriously).

But, alas, rose pruning has not yet been made an Olympic sport. Apparently it falls way short of the Olympic motto: Citius, altius, fortius (Faster, higher, stronger). If only it had been Citius, pricklius, fortius.

Anything involving speed is also out. I'd get what the medical profession calls "puffed out". And nothing strenuous or pugilistic. I guess archery and shooting would fit comfortably with my demographic but I'm afraid they simply don't interest me.

I don't want to sink into a quagmire of drudgery merely to medal. It has to be meaningful. I don't want a sport that requires you to stop playing to make it more interesting.

I must say I considered cycling because I had a bike until not long ago. Alas, when I took a closer look at Olympic bikes, I noticed they didn't even have saddle bags or mudflaps so that was out.

Then I found my niche. Granted, there is work to do but I think I can manage it. Podium even. You see, this event involves something I do every day as a matter of course. My sport of choice is walking.

I guess the seeds were sown some years ago when I was watching an episode of Kath and Kim. Kath's partner, Kel, as part of his exercise regime, went out walking in this episode and I must say he cut a very dashing figure which had me falling about the place and holding my sides with admiration.

Oh, don't think I'm that naive. I know Olympic walking is a little different from that of your common or garden pedestrian. The main difference is that you have to look a bit silly but I can manage that though I will have to watch my hips.

One commentator who uses the pseudonym, Anon, said, "Race-walking is arguably the most unnatural act that remains legal. To see a male Olympic walker in full cry is to be reminded of Barbara Windsor in a Carry On film, wiggling down the road in a tight skirt hoping to catch Sid James' eye." I'll keep that in mind as my motivator.

I will also have to boost my training. Judging from the sweat those guys work up, my walk to the gate to pick up the paper will not be enough; I'll have to come back as well.

So, look out for my name in the future. When I medal and podium, I'll be doing it for you, my fellow countrymen. "God of nations ..."

- Wyn Drabble is a teacher of English, a writer, musician and public speaker.