No Games like Olympics

I have had the privilege of covering two Olympic Games.

I have been fascinated with the Olympics long before I became a journalist.

As a child, I’d clip Olympic stories and fill scrapbooks, dreaming of the day I’d get to the Olympics.

A sprinting champion in Sarnia, I hoped to one day compete at the Games.

I had no idea at the time that I would get there, but in a different capacity.

There are so many stories at the Olympics, many away from the competition.

In Atlanta, I interviewed a homeless man who made his way to Georgia for a chance at a job and a new start.

We sat on a curb outside the busy Centennial Stadium, where track and field was held. The homes in the poor neighbourhood surrounding the stadium had all received a fresh coat on paint to spruce up the area as the world arrived.

The man hadn’t realized any potential in Atlanta but instead was searching for enough coin to get out of the sweltering heat.  Extremely polite, calling me ma’am after each sentence, his sad face as he walked away is an enduring image on the memory card in my brain.

I covered this story on the same night Carl Lewis won his ninth gold medal.

In Turin, I’ll never forget the snow storm we endured in the Alps, after a 14-hour day of coverage of downhill skiing (you couldn’t see the skiers until they hit the finish line) and bobsled. As journalists waited in the blinding snow and cold for a bus followed by a four-hour treacherous ride through mountain passes back to the city, I had to remind myself this is exactly where I wanted to be.

Here are some other Olympic memories from Turin.

As the London Games, begin, I can’t wait to watch it all unfold.

What are your Olympic memories?



2 thoughts on “No Games like Olympics

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