In the past, when I watched the Olympics, I felt inspired. I wanted to go out and train, learn to dive, run a race, try badminton, take up ping-pong, finally master a handstand. But this year, about halfway through the medal events, the coverage started to have the opposite effect on me.

I was glued to my seat watching, as always, but I found I had no desire to get unglued, either then or in the future. It was just too discouraging — there seemed no point in trying. I’m not tall enough, short enough, thin enough, long-armed enough, broad-shouldered enough or just about anything enough to take up any of these sports.

They have all become specialized, with a particular body type matched to each one. Just looking at the difference between the marathon-running women — whose zero percent body fat made them seem positively anorexic — and the swimmers, with their massive shoulder muscles, made me wonder if they are from the same species as one another, or even the same planet. Meals at the Olympic village must have looked like the cantina scene from “Star Wars.” Where did they find these aliens? I’m pretty sure none of the athletes share any genetic code with me.

The constant reminders of my insurmountable physical shortcomings were bad enough, but the kicker was when the commentators started talking about what these super athletes eat. (If in fact they do eat. I’m convinced the gymnastics girls come from an orphanage where they get one small bowl of gruel a day, which is why their growth has been stunted and they all look like they’re 12. The only reason we could see the Chinese girls at all is because TV cameras add 10 pounds.)

But 4-foot-tall children aside, most of the coverage was on the other end, with athletes who have to chow down on vast quantities of food just to keep from wasting away. They’re like those finely tuned race cars that burn a tankful of jet fuel every time they go around the track.

Michael Phelps came in for the most scrutiny. When I heard about his 12,000-calorie -a-day diet, swimming started to look pretty appealing. Imagine being able to eat whatever you want, whenever you want, without worrying about gaining an ounce. I probably eat less than 1,200 calories a day, and I don’t think I have had a piece of bread or a cookie in the last year without feeling slightly guilty. Freedom from weight watching! I was ready to head to the pool.

But then I saw a report on what foods Phelps actually eats. It sounded like his ideal restaurant is an IHOP, or maybe a steam table buffet at a cheesy Las Vegas hotel. Fried egg sandwiches, grits, five-egg omelets, French toast, and chocolate chip pancakes — and that’s just breakfast. I guess he fits in cereal, too — the Olympics weren’t even over, and Kellogg’s was announcing his endorsement of Frosted Flakes. Then for lunch and dinner Phelps consumes mountains of pasta and gooey pizzas. There’s nary a vegetable or salad in sight. And what was he looking forward to at the end of the Olympics? Being able to eat fast food again. (Another endorsement announcement is surely imminent.)

No thanks. If that’s all there is to look forward to at the end of a long day of swimming, I think I’ll stay dry.

Not that I haven’t eaten and enjoyed every item in his diet at some point. Individually, they’re all fine. It’s the combination that makes me slightly queasy. I’m sure the quantities provide the kind of fuel needed to support the amazing amount of energy he puts out in the water. But if I’m going to stuff my face, I’d rather go in another direction.  

I need more incentive than a Grand Slam breakfast or Pizza Hut to get me moving. I’m all for burning more calories so I can replace them and feel good about it. But my fantasy “all you can eat” meal runs more to a 15-course dinner at the French Laundry.

When I finish writing this, and after I feed Eddie Haskell so he’ll stop yowling (won’t someone please adopt him?) I’m planning to take part in an athletic activity perfectly suited to my body type. I’m going to take a gentle bike ride. Or a pleasant walk. Or both. (Isn’t that what they call cross training?)

No one has invited me to the French Laundry this week, but if I go exercise a few muscles, I can at least put bread back on the menu.

And I feel my athletic ambitions stirring. Who knows? If I get really good at my chosen sport, maybe I’ll be able to get an endorsement deal.

What do you say, Thomas?

Basic Pizza

Adapted from “The Greens Cookbook”

I’ve eaten my share of deep-dish Chicago pizza and cheesy tomato-y New York-style pizza, but when I’m making it myself, I go for a thin crust with spare but interesting toppings. I love this basic recipe adapted from The Greens Cookbook. The inclusion of whole wheat and rye flours gives it flavor (and allows me to believe that it is really, really good for my finely tuned athletic body).

1/3 cup hot water

1/3 cup milk

1 package (2 1/2 tsp.) active dry yeast

A pinch or two of sugar

2 Tbsp. olive oil, plus more to oil a bowl

1/2 tsp. salt

2 Tbsp. rye flour

4 Tbsp. whole wheat flour

1 1/4 cups unbleached white flour

Combine the hot water and milk together. The liquid should be just slightly warmer than body temperature. Stir in the yeast and sugar. Let sit for a minute or two to make sure the yeast is active (it will start to foam a bit), then add in the olive oil, salt, rye flour and whole wheat flour. Mix well, then slowly add the white flour. You may not need all of it, or you may need a bit more — the goal is to end up with a fairly soft, workable dough that is slightly moist.

Turn the dough out onto a well-floured surface and knead it for 5 minutes until it becomes smooth and elastic.

Oil a bowl and put the ball of dough into it, turning to coat it all over. Then cover and let rest in a warm place and let the yeast do its job. The dough should double in about 35 to 40 minutes.

Meanwhile, prepare your toppings (see below).

About 20 minutes before you are ready to bake the pizza, place a pizza stone on the center rack. Then preheat the oven to 500 F. It will take at least 20 minutes for the stone to get really hot.

When it is ready, punch down the dough and divide it in half. Flour your hands and a board, and pat the dough into a circle. If you spent your summers working in a pizzeria, you can now toss the dough around in the air and maneuver it into a perfect 10-inch circle. If you’re me, and have discovered that results in a doughy disaster, lay it out on the board and use your fingers or a rolling pin. The goal is to get it quite thin — no more than 1/8-inch thick in the center, and only slightly thicker at the edges. Don’t let it get holes in it — your toppings will sink through and stick — but don’t worry if it isn’t round. Tell yourself that its odd shape adds to the charm.

Place it on a well-floured wooden peel. Then brush the top with olive oil (garlic, lemon or basil oil is nice — play around) and add your toppings. Remember, less is more — if you layer on too much or the toppings are too wet, you’ll end up with soggy pizza. (And unless you’re swimming 5 miles a day, you probably don’t need a pound of cheese on there anyway.)

Carefully slide if from the peel onto the pizza stone (this is surprisingly easy, it just takes a little wrist flick). Bake until done, around 8 minutes, depending on the thickness of your toppings. When done, maneuver it back onto the peel to pull it out of the oven. (If you haven’t overdone the toppings and melted cheese all over the stone, this should be fairly easy.) Cut into slices and enjoy!

Serves 2-4, depending on what you heap on it

My favorite pizza topping

This topping, also adapted from the Greens cookbook, was inspired by the French pissaladiere — a carmelized onion tart. I don’t really follow the cookbook’s recipe anymore, but here are some general guidelines.

Slice an onion or two and a couple of cloves of garlic and cook them slowly on medium-low heat with some olive oil, Herbs de Provence (or your personal favorite combination of thyme, marjoram, and savory), and some salt. Don’t let them brown or dry out — they need to stew for quite a while. When the onions are soft (but not before — onions won’t soften in the presence of tomatoes!), add some chopped tomatoes, raise the heat and cook until the mixture starts to get dry.

Spread just enough of the mixture on the pizza dough to thinly cover it, then add any or all of the following: olives, capers, sliced rings of red or green pepper, sun-dried tomatoes, pepperoni, anchovies, or anything else that strikes your fancy. Then — shhh, this is my secret ingredient — take a 1/4-inch slice of lemon, rind and all, and chop it into tiny bits and sprinkle it all over the top. Finally, if you want to add cheese, a mixture of smoked and regular shredded mozzarella is dynamite, or you can use dabs of goat cheese.

Experiment, and let me know what great combo you come up with.

Betty Teller is a serious foodie who tries not to take food too seriously. If you’d like to adopt a cat, you can reach her at amuse bouche@sbcglobal.net.