The Winds of Change

It's been six years since London 2012.

(Before I continue, I just need to say... that's insane. Who let this happen?)

London was the first Games I was ever involved with, and it'll always hold a special place in my heart for that reason. But beyond that, it'll always hold a special place in my heart because it's easily the best thing I've ever done.

When I was deciding where I wanted to study abroad, it occurred to me that if the Olympics were going to London, I should go to London. And if the Olympics and I were both going to London, I should weasel my way in. I lucked into a contact at LOCOG who pointed me in the direction of becoming a London 2012 Ceremonies volunteer, so I filled out an application. I spent weeks stressed out of my mind, collecting bank records and driving around Miami to find the office to get fingerprinted and spending literally hundreds of dollars to get my student visa that would allow me to work in the UK. In the meantime, I applied for a study abroad scholarship meant for non-academic costs, telling the interview committee, "I'm studying abroad in London because I'm trying to work for free." (That worked.) Once I arrived in London, I had an interview with L2012C at which I said, "I'm studying abroad in London literally because I want to volunteer here." (That worked too.)

After I got my volunteer bib, I was like a kid in a candy store. I signed up for every shift I could get my hands on, prioritizing it over my schoolwork (which, let me tell you, was a massive first for me). I spent hours upon hours standing in the cold in an east London TV studio, sorting bibs and handing out Oyster cards and inputting performer information into the system and watching the Olympic and Paralympic ceremonies come to life before my eyes.

It's still the coolest thing I've ever gotten to do. By far. And maybe the coolest part was that... I did it. Me. And I did it solely because I wanted to. Sure, I hoped it would help me professionally. But I wanted to be a part of the London Games, so I did it. I freaking did it.

That's obviously not to say I didn't have help. My mom's friend Caron knew a guy at LOCOG that got the whole ball rolling. One of the L2012C staffers flat ignored the rule that said all applicants need a UK visa good for six months after the Games in order to be allowed to volunteer; mine expired almost two months before the Games, but they accepted me anyway. There was definitely an element of luck and good timing and having the right people around me and enabling me.

But what I'm really getting at is that I had this slightly impractical idea that got my heart racing, and I was able to figure out how to make it happen for myself. And I'm still really effing proud of that.

I don't really remember the last time I had that feeling.

Getting a job is nice, but a) your fate is still in someone else's hands, and b) it's a necessity to live. I've had good jobs, and gone to both Rio and PyeongChang since London, and that's not to say I didn't love those experiences, but... I don't know. It was someone else's decision. And that's not really a bad thing, but it's just... different.

I think the thing about London was that I made a life-changing decision. For myself. For no other reason than that I wanted to experience something that would change my life.

I want to do more of that.

I got really complacent at my last job (which I'm really not proud of). I wasn't super motivated to do much outside of work, and when my mental health started to go downhill, it was all I could do to stay motivated at work. And now that I don't work under the Olympic umbrella anymore, I need to get my fix elsewhere. My job won't be sending me to Games anymore, so I have to start changing my own damn life for myself again.

What does this mean? I don't know. Why am I sharing this? I don't know! Maybe it's to hold myself accountable. Maybe it's because I haven't felt this motivated in an incredibly long time. Maybe putting my thoughts to proverbial paper and out to the universe is a way of opening myself up to opportunity.

Either way, volunteer applications for Tokyo 2020 open in September, and you can be sure ya girl will be ready.

The Hills Are Alive

The first thing you learn when working a Games: your bus schedule is your life.

The second thing you learn when working a Games: normal societal conventions do not apply.

Case in point: my first day in PyeongChang.

Two coworkers and I went to breakfast at our hotel in the morning and planned to catch the 10:10 bus to the Main Press Center (MPC). We'd been told the shuttle stop was "right out front," so we didn't think too much of it. But when we eventually headed outside, we couldn't find it. We had no idea where we were going. You wouldn't think it'd be that difficult, but our hotel was a ski resort bumped right up against numerous other ski resorts, so "right out front" were shops and a parking garage and numerous parking lots and there were buses everywhere and it was just really confusing, okay?

So 10:10 comes and goes. We find ourselves where we think the stop is, where there's a group of men in Team Germany getup checking the schedule. They too missed the shuttle, and we collectively realize that the next one isn't coming until 10:40.

Team Germany decides to walk to the MPC. "It's just down the road," they say, starting in that direction.

My coworkers and I shrug and follow them.

Three American women decided to trudge several snowy miles along the side of the highway in the mountains of Korea with a group of German men they'd met literally 30 seconds prior.

Reading that as a normal citizen of normal society, that's insane. Like, literally insane. A disaster waiting to happen. But at a Games? To borrow a quote from the great High School Musical, we're all in this together. Lost? Someone else probably knows where they're going. Strangers? Just friends you haven't met yet.

The walk ended up being about two miles and took 45 minutes, so it would've been far more logical to just stay and wait for the next bus. But honestly? This walk with our new German friends is one of my favorite Games memories ever.

The scenery was absolutely gorgeous, and walking let us stop and take pictures and see more than we got to from behind a bus window. Our new German friends were so incredibly friendly, and were vigilant about making sure none of the girls slipped on any icy patches. The sky was blue, the day was beautiful, and we arrived at the MPC for the first time pretty sweaty and with an adventure already under our belts.

At a Games, you really just have to roll with the punches. You miss buses, you make friends and you laugh as your plans fall apart around your ears.

Later that morning, my friend and coworker texted me that he had a feeling that we were going to have some great stories from these Games.

My response? "Um, wait until you hear about my morning."

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.

Home

I'm sitting out on my patio. (Patio? Terrace? I used to call it a balcony, but my dad the construction man explained all the different terminology and concluded that calling it a balcony is incorrect. I don't remember which is correct, though. It might be terrace.)

It's warm -- shorts weather -- and breezy. It feels like summer.

It's May of 2018, but if I close my eyes, it's August of 2016. Late morning, around 11. I have a bowl of oatmeal with berries on the little table in front of me, and I left my phone inside. On purpose. These late morning hours are the only time I have to myself for a few weeks and you can be damn sure I'm going to enjoy some peace and quiet. When I'm done with breakfast I might go inside and watch some Olympics coverage before I go to work, but when your job is to cover the Olympics, you find that watching the Olympics before going to work isn't always what you want to be doing.

There are a few mornings spent watching fencing and rugby, for sure, but most of them are spent outside on the patio/terrace/balcony, slowly eating breakfast and marinating on things in silence. Sometimes I ponder the state of the Mets (pretty trash). I'm heading to my first Paralympic Games in Rio in a few weeks and as it gets closer, it's finally starting to feel real and exciting and wow, that's sure going to change my life, huh? Occasionally I long for the days I used to spend summers outside having fun, and not stuck behind a computer in a large, freezing concrete room.

And then, of course, I go inside, throw on some Team USA (or otherwise sponsor-friendly) clothes and leave for work around 12:30. My shift starts at 1, just in time for shit to hit the fan at approximately 1:05. I work until 11 (which means at least 11:30, natch), go to bed around 2 am, and wake up and do the same thing again the next day.

But those lovely mornings were mine.

It's hard to believe they were almost two years ago.

Now it's 2018. I worked those Olympics, and then another one. I went to those Paralympics, and then another one. The Mets are still trash (or trash again). I don't work for the USOC anymore -- and I'm not even all that sad about it, which is the strangest part -- and today is my last in this apartment.

It's not as dramatic as it sounds. My contract at the USOC ended -- after four years of temping, it was finally time -- and I'm moving to a newly-renovated apartment in the same complex. In fact, in the building I'm staring at right now. It's about as low-impact a move as could possibly exist.

And yet, I'm nostalgic. Wistful, if you will. This is the first apartment I ever lived in 100% by myself. It's seen some good times and great people. It's also seen me cry in bed and mope on the couch all day because I couldn't muster up the energy to care to do anything else. It was sometimes my office, and sometimes my sanctuary. But whatever went on in here, it was where I called home during an incredibly significant chapter of my life. That chapter is over now, and tomorrow I get the keys to a new place and get to start a new one.

I should probably go pack first.

Endurance Kids

Y'know that #relatable moment when your intern at the U.S. Olympic Committee is sitting in the cubicle across from you and watching the TV show you were on when you were 15?

No? Hm, weird.

Well, for those of you that are new around these parts, I was on a TV show when I was 15. It was called Endurance. You can read about it here and here and there's definitely an Endurance wiki somewhere on the internet, but I do not Google myself so you're on your own! *finger guns*

This summer was the 11th anniversary of the show's filming -- ELEVEN! YEARS! -- and to celebrate, a few of us had a little reunion. And it all kind of got me thinking.

I tried out for Endurance because I was the World's Biggest Fan of the show and thought it would be the coolest thing in the world. There wasn't really much thought to it beyond that. I imagined doing all these challenges, getting a partner and a team color, and meeting some (hopefully) awesome people that would (hopefully) turn into FRIENDS 4EVER and we'd (hopefully) have awesome reunions and it would all just be grand!!!

I didn't think about running into the dude that sent me to elimination on our shared college campus four years later. I didn't think about the friends I'd meet while studying abroad who'd watch my episodes of the show in a hostel in Copenhagen. I didn't think about the coworkers I'd eventually tell about my reality TV past, or the fact that I will be able to own Two Truths and a Lie for the rest of my life. I didn't think about all the "soooo, there's this thing I did..." conversations I'd be having with new people in my life for, uh, the rest of my life.

The reality of reality TV (heh) was totally lost on me. But here I am, 11 years down the road, living life as a grown-up reality TV kid.

^ A grown-up reality TV kid.

Now, let me be clear and say that reality TV is not my life by any stretch of the imagination. Until I started watching American Grit (which had one too many weird similarities!), Endurance very rarely crossed my mind. I give it a passing thought each year on significant dates, but otherwise packaged up my experiences into some insider knowledge on reality TV, hella real trust issues and the knowledge that my dreams are never out of reach if I make a good enough five-minute audition tape (metaphorically, of course).

But at 26 years old I suddenly found myself hanging out with two of my cast mates that I hadn't seen in years, and I realized... we're all making s#!t happen for ourselves. Lilly lives in LA and is a story producer for reality TV shows; she has literally worked with some of the people that were our producers on Endurance. Aric teaches guitar for a living and left our reunion to go to Vancouver to interview some music industry bigwigs for an article he was writing. And I'm working at the USOC, getting to go to Games and say I used to live at the Olympic Training Center.

Very different paths, sure, but we all had our passions and just kind of... did them!

Are we like this because of Endurance? Or were we always like this and Endurance was just a byproduct? Who knows. But either way, maybe there's something to this "reality TV kid" thing.

It's a pretty cool thing to be.

Snippets From Rio

'Sup?

Y'know, I didn't mean to go so long between posts this time. I really didn't. But I actually have a good excuse this time: it involves a kidney transplant and no days off of work for about a month and a half. But that, kids, is a story for another time.

We're gathered here today for the last of my Rio Paralympic recaps. *crowd cheers* It was almost exactly a year ago that we flew to Rio, so this is rather aptly timed.

I've mentioned that I kept a journal while I was there and wrote in it every night -- which is the basis for these blog posts, in fact -- and I tried really hard to be... good at it. I've kept journals on and off in the past, and in reading through them years later I've been disappointed in how little I talk about important moments and feelings. I had a persistent bad habit of writing in the vein of "we did such-and-such, and it was awesome," or something equally as boring and lacking insight. In Rio, I wanted to make sure I didn't just give a play-by-play of my days, but also took the time to record my thoughts and feelings and experiences. So I really made it a priority to be present in the moment when I realized something special was happening, and would occasionally take notes in my phone to remember things to write down later on. Some things, I'm sure, fell through the cracks, but overall I did a pretty good job at writing down the important stuff!

So, to wrap things up, here are some of my favorite miscellaneous moments moments from my Rio experience.

+ On the way down to Brazil, the PR group I was traveling with had a layover in Houston, as did most of the other athletes and staff. And everyone was traveling in Team USA gear, naturally. Not long after we arrived, we were standing in the terminal when a woman in Team USA gear and a wheelchair rolled over to us and said, "Woooooo! What sport?!" Our answer to that was, y'know, not a sport, but it was a really fun moment and my first real Games experience as the member of a delegation (and not a fan eagerly looking for people wearing delegation garb). Stuff like that continued to happen during the Games themselves; people in Olympic Park would say "hello USA!," and one morning a security officer sang Born in the USA to me as I was being scanned into the media entrance. :)

+ On our first day in Rio, our group ended up spending the afternoon walking along the beach across from our hotel (#blessed) and stopped at a little beachside stand to sit and get some food. Our table was right by a speaker that played Brazilian music 99% of the time, but played a few songs in English completely out of nowhere. The first was Here Comes the Sun, and the second was Revolution. Both are by the Beatles, and both were played in the London 2012 ceremonies. Here Comes the Sun was one of the groups I saw rehearse multiple times when I was a volunteer, and the song is on my London 2012 playlist. To be sitting in Rio four years later and hear it playing out of the blue... I got a little choked up. What a full-circle moment.

+ A day or two before competition started, I was on a morning media shuttle from the hotel to the press center. On the way there, we passed some para-cyclists riding on the path next to the road; there were one or two hand cyclists, and a tandem bike with a visually-impaired athlete and his guide. I don't know why it stuck with me the way it has. Maybe it was because those were the first athletes I saw in action in Rio. But whatever it was, that was the moment that it hit me that this was all actually real.

+ I hate to even bring this up, but... Tim Tebow signed with the Mets the day after the Opening Ceremony. That morning I was completely exhausted after the late night, and when I pulled out my phone to check Twitter on the shuttle, my brain literally couldn't comprehend what I was reading. I thought it was a joke and needed to see it confirmed by about two dozen sources before I could accept it as truth. (Still kind of can't accept it as truth, to be honest.)

+ On one of the first few days of competition, I went to judo to see a friend of mine compete (and he ended up winning bronze!!!). In judo, they have multiple weight classes finish up in the same session, so there were a whole bunch of medal finals while I was there. In the first match I saw, a Colombian girl won bronze... and I almost cried. It was so unexpected! But she was (obviously) so excited and celebrating and crying and all that, and it was the first time I'd ever seen anyone win a medal in person. I was at judo for three-plus hours that day, and watching athletes celebrating their medals didn't get old.

+ One afternoon, several of us that were working at the main press center (MPC) had lunch at some food trucks that were parked near the tennis venue in Olympic Park. It was crowded and seating was limited, so we ended up sharing a table with a Brazilian couple and a man from the Netherlands. They all spoke great English and we had some great conversation. It was such a quintessential Games moment, and felt like what I imagine the dining hall in the Olympic village feels like.

+ I've written at length on my paracanoe experience, but one of my favorite ~in the moment~ moments came that morning, in a very early Uber on the way there. This driver was so incredibly nice to the two Americans who couldn't speak his language! He gave us little candies and we taught each other the word for them -- "bala" in Portuguese -- and there was this moment that I was chewing a banana-flavored candy given to me by the Brazilian guy driving the car I was in as a favela loomed straight ahead of us and Forever Young played on the radio... I don't know, man. It was a moment.

+ On the last full day of competition, several of us went to see the wheelchair rugby semifinal in the afternoon. My coworkers stayed at the venue after it was over, as they were planning to go to wheelchair basketball after that, but I had different plans for the evening and walked back to the MPC through Olympic Park by myself. I hadn't yet been in the park alone, and it was so nice to wander slowly, stop to take pictures at my leisure, and just sort of take it all in one last time. I'm always so much more reflective when I'm alone and have time to really be present and introspective, and I'm so glad I had that walk to myself.

+ It's really odd to include this moment on a list of "favorites," because it's not even remotely happy, but it was extremely significant and I have to make note of it. On the media shuttle to the MPC on the final day, I saw on social media that a girl I worked with at the gym in college had died of breast cancer. She was young and beautiful and healthy -- she was a trainer, for crying out loud! -- and even though we were never close, her death hit me hard in that moment. There I was, living my professional (and personal) dream, knowing I would be going to what's basically a giant party (the closing ceremony) that night, while someone else's life had just ended. It was a pretty brutal reminder that I'm really lucky, and to really appreciate everything that I was experiencing.

+ Aaaaand finally, the closing ceremony! It was really good, though (as expected) nowhere near as good as the opening ceremony. BUT! I think my weepiest moment came during this one, during the flag handover ceremony. During each closing ceremony, the mayor of the current host city passes the Olympic/Paralympic flag to the mayor of the next host city. It's the only thing that truly links one Games to another. So as I was watching the mayor of Tokyo receive the flag, I got to thinking. Four years earlier, I watched the London organizers hand the flag over to Rio from my parents' living room, and all I could do was hope that somehow I'd be there in 2016, that I'd be involved in some way. And there I was! I'd done it! In four years I'd gone from a volunteer on the outside looking in to a credentialed member of the U.S. delegation. It was the craziest full-circle moment of my life. It hit me like a truck, and I totally cried. Still makes me a little misty, if we're being honest.

And that's that! Obrigada for the memories, Rio. I'll cherish 'em forever.

But now... less than six months until PyeongChang! :)

A Walk In The Park

I am going to finish these Rio Paralympic recaps if it kills me. Best-case scenario, before the one-year anniversary of the Games. Worst-case scenario, before the next Games and another backlog of recaps. Dream big?

There's not a whole lot left I need to post about, but it's very important to me that I talk about Olympic park.

During the Games, the park was absolutely beautiful and full of people (despite all the worries about Paralympic ticketing and attendance). I can't even explain to you how excited I was to just make the walk from the main press center into the park, to pop into venues, to stroll around and soak up the atmosphere. But then the Games ended, and less than six months later the venues were in total disrepair. It breaks my heart. I have so many positive memories in those venues, in that city, and to see it all so decrepit already is devastating.

Deservedly so, everything you read about Rio and the Olympic park lately has been negative. But I'm going to take some time to rehash positive memories I experienced in these venues.

The Carioca Arenas

On one of our first days in Rio, the day before the opening ceremony, a few of us went for a walk in the empty park to try to get the lay of the land and see the sights. Our credentials got us into all venues, so we stopped into one of the Cariocas (three adjacent, semi-connected arenas) to explore. While we were there, we ran into two Olympic Broadcast Service volunteers who we ended up befriending. They showed us around, got us behind-the-scenes and explained how covering events would work in the press tribunes and mixed zones. (And we ended up running into them again at the opening ceremony!) It was such a pleasant encounter and is one of my favorite memories from the whole Games.

We'd gone to that particular Carioca (3, I believe) because one of our group was going to be covering judo there in the next day or two. I ended up going with her to one of the afternoon judo sessions and got to see my first medal ceremony -- there were zero U.S. athletes involved and I still cried. I also watched a friend of mine from my Olympic Training Center days, Dartanyon Crockett, win bronze! It was so exciting! And, yes, I cried some more!

Carioca 2 was the site of one of my favorite bizarre, spontaneous Games memories. On this particular day, a coworker and I went for a walk in Olympic park on a slower morning, again to see the sights and explore (and shop for souvenirs, natch). What we didn't account for was the weather: it was 99 degrees (and humid) that day. We weren't out there for very long before we realized we were very far from the press center and very, very hot. Like, seek-shelter-before-we-pass-out hot. We tried to get into the aquatics arena, but the morning session had just ended and they turned us away. So we headed for the Cariocas, thinking that at least one of them would be open. Carioca 2 was our savior. We sat in the air conditioning, guzzled press-issued water bottles and watched some boccia. These athletes are some of the most severely disabled at the Games, and it was really cool to see people who could barely move without assistance compete with a high degree of skill.

And Carioca 1 was the site of wheelchair rugby, aka murderball, aka one of the more violent sports you'll see. It's like able-bodied rugby: guys just brutally collide with each other. It's nuts, and so cool. Our guys won silver in a double-overtime nail-biter on the final day of competition.

Also, the outside of the Cariocas gave you that quintessential Games vibe:

And from the inside, you got views like this:

Rio Olympic Arena

The second stop on our tour led by the OBS volunteers, the Olympic Arena hosted wheelchair basketball. There was a closed practice going on while we were there, so we weren't allowed to stay very long or see very much. But it was an ~exclusive~ tour, so I was still geeked out to the max. I love me an empty arena!

The Tennis Center

The tennis stadium was beautiful from the outside, but I never made it inside. The outer courts, though, hold a special place in my heart, as this was where I got to see my first Paralympic action in person!

The Futures Arena

Goalball! Guys, goalball was probably my favorite discovery of the Games. It's a sport played exclusively by visually-impaired athletes -- there's no able-bodied equivalent -- and it's just... so cool. I was blown away. It's rare for me to discover a new sport nowadays, so sitting down in the Futures Arena with no idea what to expect and having those nonexistent expectations blown clear out of the water was insanely fun!

The Aquatic Stadium

Embarrassing confession: I totally failed at swimming during Rio. There was so much of it, two sessions every single day, so I'd get busy with work and just tell myself I'd go see some swimming another day. I had plenty of time to see some swimming! But on the last day of competition it hit me that, crap, I had completely failed to see any swimming! That night I had my heart set on seeing the women's sitting volleyball gold-medal match, but a coworker and I went to swimming in the 15-minute window we had before volleyball. It was a truly pitiful effort on my part, but I'll never forget those slightly stressy 15 minutes. We were checking the time constantly and got to see Jessica Long finally win her first gold of the Games... and by "got to see it," I mean it was the last race we stayed for and we literally booked it from the arena while Jessica was still crying on the pool deck after her win. Better than nothing, right?

 ^ That's Jessica winning!

And the only picture I got of this building is from the back at the shuttle stop? Man. I'm sorry, swimming. I took you for granted.

Within Olympic park, I never made inside the velodrome or the Maria Lenk Aquatics Center (though that one wasn't in use during the Paralympics). But I'll include one more venue that was just down the road from the park.

Riocentro Pavilion

The home of sitting volleyball! I used to intern at USA Volleyball so I was beyond excited to get over to Riocentro and watch some sitting. I went at least twice: the first time, the U.S. women lost to reigning gold medalist China, 3-2; and the second time, the gold-medal match, the U.S. women crushed China 3-0 to win gold. That place was LOUD! And it was a temporary venue, so the stands would literally shake when the crowd got rowdy enough.

I'll never forget that gold-medal match. We all thought it would be a nail-biter, but the first two sets weren't even close. It was an utter blowout. My coworkers and I kept shooting each other stunned looks; we couldn't believe what we were seeing. It was easily one of the greatest sports experiences I've ever had.

 On Mondays, we wear green. ;)

And hey, y'know how I said we left swimming while Jessica Long was crying on the pool deck after she won gold? I was on Getty Images during the volleyball medal ceremony, and...

Whoops?

The Park

And finally, I couldn't leave out some scenes from within Olympic park itself! 

The first three pictures are from before the Games began, hence why it's so empty. Once the gates were open, it was crowded every day.

So don't let all the sad stories tell the whole story. Olympic park was beautiful and lively and it'll have a special place in my heart forever.