Why I’m Mad at (insert Olympian of choice)

Dear Olympic athletes, 

I’ve got a bone to pick with you… and you… and you … and even you Mr. Michael Phelps. Although, congrats on all those medals. Seriously major congrats. 

I watch the Olympics faithfully every night. I sometimes watch it during the day. Then I google the 50 million events I didn’t get to see on TV. I am continually captivated by the athletes stories, victories and even the losses. It always seems to be a similar tale – an unexpected athletic talent emerges in a young child, a devastating loss or injury occurs and it appears as though their Olympic dream is shattered, hard work and perseverance take place, and the audience is left with an immediate desire to watch that person (regardless of the country they are from) win a medal. Gosh do I love those little biographical excerpts.

So what is it exactly that has me fuming?

Each and every athlete regardless of their sport manages to somehow mention that they ‘remember wanting to be an Olympian when they were just a wee little kid’ in a way that makes it seem as though the dream of becoming an Olympian is unique to Olympians.

False. False. False.

I spent years and years of my childhood training for the Olympics, albeit in my backyard and basement. I used to run laps around our house to train and keep up my strength. My friend and I used to fashion medals from paper and yarn. We would use painters tape on the carpet to make a balance beam, the monkey bars would suffice as makeshift uneven bars, and the grassy backyard would be the perfect location for floor exercise. We never did quite figure out how to compete on the vault. We would score each other and argue over the outcome of each and every ‘meet’ we held. She was a tough judge. I rarely did well in her eyes. Summer upon summer,we worked towards our Olympic dream.

We didn’t make it to the Olympics like Sanya Richards-Ross.

We didn’t win the all-around gold medal like Gabby Douglas.

We will never go down in history as the greatest Olympian of all-time like Michael Phelps.

But…

Dear (insert Olympian of choice),

I too dreamed of being an Olympic all-star just like you. I trained for years and years. Congrats on all your medals. Seriously major congrats. 

Love,
Jealous, disgruntled, but crazy proud Olympics mega fan

Rant over. Let’s eat!

How about something a lot of bit sweet and a lot of bit salty? Yeah, I know. I know. These are too-die-for, gold-medal-worthy, and fan-freaking-tastic. Did I mention these are good? And since you (like me) aren’t training for an Olympics, you can afford to treat yourself to this not-so-healthy treat. Cheers to those of us who aren’t Olympians. Seriously major cheers.

Chocolate Chip Cookie Bars with Salty Pretzel Crust
Source: Simply Scratch via Two Peas and Their Pod
Printable Recipe

For the crust:
3 1/2C pretzels, crushed, crumbled, hammered (as in no longer perfectly pretzel shaped)
3/4C butter, melted.

For the dough:
3/4C butter, room temperature
1/2C sugar
3/4C dark brown sugar (I used regular)
2tsp vanilla extract
2 eggs
2 1/4C AP flour
1tsp baking soda
3/4tsp salt
1 (11oz) bag milk chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350. Line a 9×13 pan with parchment.
Crush pretzels- they don’t need to be pulverized. I had lots of nearly-entire pretzel chunks. Pour over melted butter. Stir to combine. Press crust into pan. Bake at 350 for 8 minutes.
While the crust is baking, make the cookie dough. Beat sugar and butter until light and fluffy. Add in eggs and vanilla until combined.
In a separate bowl, combine flour, baking soda and salt. Add dry ingredients to wet ingredients. Stir until combined. Mix in chocolate chips.
Allow crust to cool for a few minutes (maybe 5 or so) after it bakes. It doesn’t have to be completely cool. Drop cookie dough mixture by spoonful over pretzel crust. Press to form an even layer.
Bake at 350 for 25 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean. Allow to cool before cutting.

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