Every four years the Winter Olympics shows up to remind us that “sport” is a very flexible word. Among the well established events like hockey, skiing, and skating (aka. hockey without goals or defenders), we find other competitions that were obviously intended as part of a college fraternity initiation.

Like curling, for example. People slide a rock down ice while teammates furiously push brooms in front of it. It’s shuffleboard for people who like squatting. On paper, the game seems ridiculous. Watching it played, you realize that ‘ridiculous’ is a massive understatement.

Biathlon combines skiing with firearms. It is what happens when someone looks at cross-country skiing and says, “Lets add the constant possibility of accidental homicide.” When a player misses a target, they’re punished with more skiing. When they hit the target, they’re rewarded with more skiing. So biathlon is not so much a sport as a character-building exercise.

There’s something called, ‘skeleton,’ which is literally a reference to a dead body. Most sports try to downplay the potential for injury. This one proudly says it’s, “what the coroner finds.” The competitor lies face down on a sled best described as “minimal,” and rockets through a frozen hallway like a human email attachment wearing an outfit that tell us the entire safety protocol is, “Don’t crash!”

Nordic combined pairs ski jumping with cross-country skiing because Olympic planners correctly assumed you wouldn’t watch people shuffle quietly through the woods unless you first watched some of them almost die. The ski jump gives viewers the false hope that what comes next is going to be worth their time. Cross-country skiing is enjoyed by people who prefer sports that never interrupt their thoughts.

We care so deeply about the Winter Olympics that every four years they take us completely by surprise. “Hey! Are the Olympics happening again? Already?!” Then for two weeks our national pride rises or falls on acquiring a medal in bobsledding.