A Walk Down Memory Lane

I’ve been thinking a lot about memories. Making new ones; remembering old ones. How a long-ago moment can stick vividly to the memory of one person who experienced it, yet completely slip from the mind of another. How two people can experience the same event, but remember it so differently. Reality is perception is reality. Much about a person — the language he or she speaks, past experiences, personality traits — can influence the way they perceive the world and thus, the way they experience and remember a moment and the stories they eventually tell.

Look Back: Pyeongchang 2018

The 2018 Winter Olympics marked the first time I covered an Olympics — my seventh! — without also writing a daily blog for this site. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about why, after writing a Daily Olympics Blog every Olympic day since 2008 (I hadn’t yet launched this blog when I covered the 2006 Winter Olympics in Turin), I failed to do so in Korea. The simplest answer is that I didn’t want to as much as I did in the past. When I arrived in Pyeongchang, I was burnt out and tired, and I spent the first five days in Korea suffering from a massive migraine. Just doing my work was tough enough. The thought of trying to pull extra thoughts out of my brain seemed an impossible, unnecessary task.

Rebooting the Blog

Last week, a former ESPN Mag editor reached out to ask me a question about a story I wrote nine years ago. He was recounting an anecdote about my reporting of that story, but he couldn’t remember the details. Sadly, neither could I! I stared at my computer screen for a while, trying to remember, then Google’d my story, re-read it and allowed the memories to slowly float back into my mind. Then I remembered an even better resource than Google: this blog.

Knee Deep in Sleep

Today was an awake day. Not a “woke” day. An awake day. As in, I woke up at 8 am, went to physical therapy, spent most of the day on my computer doing actual work with a clear mind and now, at 9 pm, I am still awake. And writing!

Knee Deep: Fighting the ACL Blues

A friend and colleague recently sent me a link to an article about ACL Depression Syndrome.  In five simple words, he warned me, “Alyssa, for you to avoid!”

Knee Deep: Moving the Start Line

This week, I’ve been thinking a lot about starting lines. The excitement of them, the build-up to them, the promise they hold. For the past two months, I’ve been working toward a start line of my own. This Friday, Oct. 13, was supposed to be my surgery date. Two months of rehab and icing and monotonous daily work were finally delivering me and my torn-up knee to the finish-start line of surgery. Saturday would begin the first leg of a new race. No more pre-hab. No more nervous excitement about surgery. On to rehab and a path leading me to an upgraded knee!

Knee Deep: Focus on Focus

Over the past two weeks, I’ve spent a lot of time around athletes and the people who care for them. I spent four days in Park City at the Team USA Olympic media summit, three days in Newport Beach at the espnW Women + Sports Summit and four days in Aspen hosting The Meeting.

Knee Deep: An ACL Journal (Journey)

Six weeks ago, I earned membership in a club I never wanted to join.

DOB Days 18-21: Answers Only

No two ways around it, I let the DOB slip at the end of the Games. Typically, I write these blogs on buses and in vans and in bed late at night. (I spend an excessive amount of time in two of those three.) Once my computer died, that became tougher to do. I am so thankful for this loaner PC, but its battery only lasts for about 15 minutes until it needs to be plugged into an outlet. It’s like having a cell phone that needs a landline in order to operate. (I guess they call those “home phones.”)

DOB Days 15-17: Go Team!

Last night, one of my colleagues told me a story that disturbed me almost as much as whatever the hell is going on with Ryan Lochte. He was taking a jam-packed, 30-minutes-late bus back to the media center after another late night at track, and he noticed an empty seat. When he tried to sit in the seat, he realized it was occupied by the backpack of the guy who was sitting on the aisle. He asked him to move his bag, but the man didn’t speak English, and apparently didn’t understand the universal sign for, “Dude. Move your freaking backpack so one of the 50 people who are standing on this bus can sit down. Please.” A few other people tried. Then several journalists began snapping the guy’s photo and Tweeting about what a jerk he was. Undeterred, he and his backpack had a cozy hour-long ride back to Olympic Park, unconcerned that they were depriving someone of the chance to end their night on a positive note.