Winter Olympic Athlete

Watching the Winter Olympics reminds me of everything I don't like about winter: trying to do anything while I'm cold. I hate being cold, indoors or out, but at least indoor temperatures are predictable. At home, I know I have plenty of blankets available to keep me warm. At work, I've accepted that I have to layer my hoodie over my my sweater over my t-shirt, with my coat lain over my legs like a blanket for my entire shift. By the way, when you see me wandering the building in my scarf and gloves, YES, I AM that cold. Being cold just isn't something that ever goes away for me in normal-people temperatures; say, anything below 80F. Even in summer, it's not too often it gets that warm outside.
When my kids want to play outside this time of year, I think of how cold I would be, and only reluctantly allow it while I watch through the window trying to absorb all the heat from my coffee mug. When it snows, even wearing gloves, my fingers numb as I brush and scrape my car windows. I waddle like I did when I was pregnant while trying to get across my icy driveway. My nose could guide a sleigh on a foggy Christmas Eve. So watching skiers try to out-jump each other, I can only think of how sniffly they must be, and sympathize with the sting they feel as the snow hits their cheeks. These people have to train constantly, too - do they ever feel their toes? Shouldn't those luge sleds have heating pads built in? Can't we give the bobsledders down coats? I'm cold just watching this in my slipper socks huddled under my electric blanket.
A professional Winter Olympian would probably be flabbergasted by the fact that I've lived in Colorado for 15 years and never gone skiing, snowboarding, or rarely even made snowmen. You go ahead; I'll stay in and watch Lost. Call me when you're ready to hit the sauna.