From PyeongChang With Love

My second Games reminded me of my sophomore year of college.

When I returned to Miami for my sophomore year, I was totally pumped. Freshman year had been awesome, and I expected sophomore year to be exactly the same. Same place, same people, same awesome.

And then it was different.

Sure, I was on the same campus and hanging out with the same friends. But I was living in a different building with a different room configuration, going to different classes... I had to adjust. For whatever reason, I wasn't prepared for that. There was nothing wrong with my new sophomore reality, but I was jarred and uncomfortable all the same. The first few days were bizarrely not what I expected. But I got over it, settled into life on the opposite side of campus and was just as sad to leave when it was over as I was the year before.

Fast forward seven and a half years.

I was #blessed to be asked to work a second Games with U.S. Paralympics on their communications staff. To say I was excited about it would be an understatement. Rio was the absolute best, and I'd be working with a group of awesome people I already knew and liked, so I went to PyeongChang with sky-high expectations.

For the most part, those expectations were met in kind, but... everything was different. Nothing was bad -- seriously, this Games was so smooth and there's nothing that I'd change if I could (cold notwithstanding) -- but for whatever reason, I wasn't as over the moon as I was in Rio. It felt very different, and I don't think I was expecting that.

I think a big part of the problem were those sky-high expectations. I went into Rio knowing nothing and just sort of hoping for the best. But I went into PyeongChang knowing how incredible my Rio experience was. For six months, I used PyeongChang as a talisman, a beacon of hope, a light at the end of the tunnel that would make an overall unhappy year and a half of work worth it. And I expected to be blown away.  If I'd gone in with no expectations, I absolutely would've been.

That's not to say there weren't some legitimate struggles. I was cold for literally two weeks straight. I wasn't prepared for the cold to be as much of an issue as it was, but oh man, it was. Being outside for any length of time meant being cold to the point of distraction, which really put a damper on two of the most important events for me: the Opening and Closing Ceremonies. Wifi was intermittent and hard to find. The food was often great but very foreign, sometimes very odd, and definitely took some getting used to. And PyeongChang isn't nearly as iconic a city as Rio is, so I never really had that "holy crap, I'm HERE" moment. (I had that moment when I was in Seoul after the Games. I cried alone in the back of a cab. But that's a whole other story.)

But all that being said... buses ran regularly and on time. The venues were all really great. The volunteers could not have been friendlier and more willing to help. I stayed in a condo that had heated floors. (A whole apartment! With heated floors! My literal dream!) Korean barbeque is life-changing. I got to see an American win a medal in biathlon. (Biathlon!) I'd been looking forward to the sled hockey gold-medal game for four years and that, my friends, managed to exceed anything I'd ever hoped it would be. I got to see each sport at least once. I got to work another Games with one of my best friends. There were moments spent crying watching medal ceremonies, cracking up as plans fell apart in the pouring rain, shrieking with laughter crammed four across in the back of a taxi, wandering wide-eyed through downtown, trying not to breathe while putting on mascot heads, making new friends from Kazakhstan and seeing old friends I'd met in Brazil, and really just living my best life. Even on the days I came back to my condo and was so cold and tired that all I was capable of doing was lying on my heated floor for a few minutes. (That happened... more often than I'd care to admit.)

Every now and then I'll look through the photos I took or reread parts of my journal, and I'll get misty-eyed and nostalgic. We've reached the point where I've gotten over PyeongChang's different-ness.

Was it Rio? No. But it was so, so great. So great.

Gamsahamnida, PyeongChang.