Top Half of Doubles Luge Running out of Ways to Explain Erections to Wife
Equally nervous and aroused at the thought of competing on the world’s coldest stage, doubles luge veteran and power US Team Luge top Chris Mazdzer admits he’s running out of ways to explain the white hot passion he feels every time he mounts a sled atop another man.
“There’s nothing like the thrill of doubles luge,” Mazdzer said, eyes distant, voice trembling. “The lights. The cameras. The wind slicing past your helmet. The vibrations of the sled jiggling me and my luge life partner, coursing up through the track, through your spine, into your very soul. The way our spandex suits fuse us together… two men, one body, one goal. Every subtle shift of my hips matched by Jayson’s. Every breath in sync. His chest pressed tightly against my back, his exhales warm against my neck. It’s not just a sport… it’s a dance. A deeply physical, occasionally involuntary erotic dance.”
Mazdzer paused, biting his lip. “The...erections I achieve? Those are just adrenaline. Chemistry. Muscle memory. Years of training. Perfect alignment. People say I should be able to control them, but those people have never luged.”
To the uninitiated, doubles luge may appear to be little more than two men in matching skinsuits playing high speed, full contact reverse piggyback down a frozen slide. But to those inside the sled? It’s something far deeper. A test of trust, body awareness, and the ability to suppress natural reactions while wrapped around your closest friend at 90 mph.
Mazdzer and his longtime luge life partner, Jayson Terdiman, have dedicated their lives to this pursuit of synchronized descent. Their relationship is built not just on practice and performance, but on proximity. Sometimes extreme proximity.
Mazdzer’s wife, Susan, has tried her best to be understanding.
“I support Chris. I always have,” she said, with a nervous smile. “But it’s hard. I’ll be making dinner and hear the boys training in the garage… only to walk in and find them in full gear, practicing 'spoon starts' on a plywood sled. They say it’s for balance. They say the basement luge track and lighting system was necessary for muscle memory. They say the Ricky Martin soundtrack they train to is necessary for to get them in the mood. They say Jayson moving into our guest room… and eventually our marital bed… was all in service of 'sled unity.' But at some point… it starts to feel personal.”
Susan recalls a particularly difficult night: “Chris rolled over in bed, touched my face tenderly, and whispered, ‘Jayson, adjust your thighs… we’re tipping left.’ He was sleep luging again. It didn’t help when Jayson leaned over, also sleep luging while whispering ‘TIPPING LEFT.’ It’s gotten worse since they qualified for the Italy games. And, of course… there are... Well… That’s something we’re still working through. As a couple.”
Despite the mounting tension at home, Mazdzer remains steadfast in his commitment.
“Look, every elite athlete pays a price. Gymnasts destroy their joints. Skiers tear ACLs. Football players forget their names by 40. My burden? I get frequent, uncontrollable bursts of joy when I’m spooned against a man I trust more than anyone in this world, and have chosen to spend the rest of my life wi— Career with. That’s not shameful… that’s patriotic.”
Mazdzer insists it’s all part of the process, the grind.
“One day, I hope Susan will understand. This isn’t about lust. It’s about velocity. It’s about glory. It’s about two men defying physics by becoming one, sliding into history. Jayson and I? We don’t just luge. We are luge.”
He gazed into the distance, eyes glistening with tears.
“I was born to do this.”
