It’s 8:00am. I have slept 4 hours in the last 24. And I’m at a curling rink.

It’s Day 2 of my Olympic adventure here in Vancouver and I’m spreading my sporting wings by taking in a match between Canada and Japan. The gorgeous new venue sits smack in the midst of a residential neighbourhood making the thick security perimeter staffed by hundreds of police from Montreal’s finest appear even more incongruous than the thousands of RCMP milling about downtown Vancouver. It’s a balmy +9C and I’ve left my jacket behind at what Vancouverites are affectionately calling “The Spring Olympics”.

Having arrived at this event after a day in which I watched Canada and Russia combine for sixteen goals in two explosive hockey games the night before, I adjust my expectations and prepare for a more sedate match…until I step into the venue.  Two young men beside me, clad only in red boxer shorts, their faces painted with red maple leaves, are running madly around the concession stands using Canadian flags as capes and screaming “GO CANADA!!!” Team Canada colours are literally everywhere. Canada steals a point on an end and the grandstand erupts into an earthquake of boot stomping. Three rowdy fans have started a raucous cheer. Someone starts a countdown and to my eternal amazement, a wave breaks out roiling over the crown as it speeds around the arena time and time again. This ain’t your grandpa’s curling match. Three hours later, in a sloppy match marked by errors on both sides, Canada squeaks out a last rock victory and the crowd explodes.

Suitably charged from my morning experience, I quickly make my way to the UBC Campus and settle in to watch Canada’s women slaughter a hapless Swedish squad 13-1 in hockey. The scoring is so fast and furious my legs are starting to cramp from leaping to my feet so often. Fortunately for my hands, I purchased one of the ubiquitous Official Vancouver 2010 cowbells sparing me from having to clap my palms into oblivion.

Immediately after the game I race from UBC’s campus downtown to BC Place where I join 30,000 others in screaming wildly as we watch Maelle Ricker receive her gold medal at the Vancouver Victory Celebration. Bearing witness to the inauguration of a Canadian hero is an emotional and moving experience that somehow manages to feel intimate despite the sell-out crowd packed under BC Place’s puffy fabric roof.  Paul Brandt hits the stage following the medal ceremony to the delight of cowgirls everywhere and I slip out into the downtown streets where the party is just getting started.

I have now been awake for 44 of the last 48 hours. Sleep is not in the Olympic lexicon. Tomorrow, my first opportunity to view Whistler’s contribution to the Games.