Olympic Hangover

After spending the entire day in the car yesterday, driving from Sestriere to Munich, and then watching the Closing Ceremonies on TV in my hotel room, I can accurately describe myself as suffering from an Olympic hangover.

It definitely wasn't a result of partying at the Olympic level though, and a certain someone might say I missed out on the experience as result.

No, my feelings were a byproduct of a tremendous emotional build-up for the Games, and my race in particular. Waking up each morning with my own preparation on my mind, and then juggling my schedule to accommodate my inner fan, so I would be able to watch the main events live each day.

The Olympics are truly the pinnacle of sport, both from an athlete's and a fan's perspective. Where else can you see such disparate events, all being contested in close proximity? And where else can you experience sport being contested (more or less) for the love of it?

Sure there are examples of commercialism (the IOC practices amateurism in much the same way that the NCAA does) and that's really another subject entirely, but those are by and large kept to a minimum as the athletes compete for the highest honor: to uphold the Olympic ideal of doing one's best.

That's all it is; beyond NBC and the rest of the press, who insist on focusing on some jingoistic medal count and the "marketable personalities," the Olympics are about simply competing, about taking part. This hangover stems from the realization that the Eden of spirit which existed for 17 short days in Torino has now come to a close.