ShareThisMoney can't buy me love, but it can certainly put a dent in my 50-yard freestyle.By now we've all heard the incredible story of Olympic swimmer Dara Torres, the 41-year-old athlete and mother competing in the Summer Games. Her return to the pool for a fifth chance at gold is an inspiration to aging athletes everywhere, requiring remarkable determination and courage, years of painful practice and conditioning, and an unparalleled competitive drive.Of course, it hasn't hurt to have a team of massage therapists, specially trained stretching coordinators, dedicated nutritionists and a few additional coaches, all to the tune of more than $100,000 a year.In the words of millions of master swimmers across the country: Wouldn't that be nice?By the time the average competitive female athlete reaches 40, she's lucky to afford day care, let alone a dedicated calf masseuse. One has to wonder if the spotlight on Torres doesn't irritate other mothers more than it inspires. They might be thinking: With a few hundred grand, I'd have a postpartum six-pack, too.It's a line of thinking that led me to wonder -- what degree of physical fitness could a cool hundred grand buy for a common, spindly limbed columnist? Could a well-funded year of diet, massage and stretching turn me into an Olympic-caliber athlete? I was determined to find out.Unfortunately, my editors were determined not to pay $100,000 for a column. And rightfully so, as the year would progress much like this:Day 1: A breakfast of egg albumen and black-cherry juice is prepared by Sven, my multi-degreed Scandinavian nutritionist (Cornell University, $375/hour). Alexandra, my forearm masseuse (Yale School of Neuromuscular Kinesthetics, $550/hour) waits patiently in the kitchen. My alarm clock (Walgreens, $5) is quickly unplugged, allowing an additional three hours of sleep.Day 112: For the fourth month in a row, I attempt to convince Sven of the merits of Buffalo wings as a nutrition staple. For the fourth month in a row, Sven threatens to quit.Day 138: Sven makes good on his threat. I spend his salary on blue cheese and celery.Day 189: I am finally convinced to get into the pool. Water wings are carefully duct-taped to my emaciated writer's biceps to prevent slippage. I feebly paddle 4 feet from the gutter before the necessary rescue by a specially trained drowning-prevention associate (YMCA, $7.25/hour).Day 230: $100,000 is a lot of money. Enough to buy several Toyota Priuses. Or is it Prii? Either way, I now own three.Day 365: My transformation is complete. I am truly a specimen to behold -- the product of the best conditioning, diet and neuromuscular development that money can buy. I have gained nearly 100 pounds eating only the finest in delivered pizza and Szechwan food. My remote-control reflexes are unparalleled, allowing me to advance through 600 channels in under a minute. I may never walk again. Life is good.So perhaps there's more to this than money. One must not discount the drive and determination it takes to reach the caliber of a multi-Olympiad swimmer like Dara Torres. In time, we may meet the athlete able to balance work, motherhood and the effects of age without a six-figure subsidy.But for now, we should take the inspiration as we can get it -- at only $50 an hour.(Ben Grabow writes for the young, the urban and the easily amused. Contact him at thinlyread(at)gmail.com.)
Being a world-class athlete costs a pretty penny
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