Rio2016: It’s not (just) about the sport

It’s 08:30 Tuesday morning, the start of my fifth full day in Brazil. 

I’m currently stuck on a sardine can of an underground train that has been doing a snail’s pace for the past half hour. Now starting to worry whether I’m going to make it to the stadium for this morning’s athletics. I can also report that I was over an hour late getting back to my digs last night due to a torrential rain storm disrupting things at the games. 

‘What did you expect?’ some will say; ‘Rio was never going to be prepared for the Olympics and surely Latin American cities are chaotic at the best of times’. 

So, you may be thinking these are just the latest in a catalogue of problems and frustrations. 

But without any dramas, there probably wouldn’t be much to write home about would there. Well, there would; there’s been some unbelievable sport already. However, there wouldn’t be much point writing a lot about that, because you’ve probably seen it all on the TV. 

In reality, the list of disasters so far is short. In fact, other than the above, I can’t think of any……. (except than the price of beer in the Irish pub across the square from my accommodation). Oh and the fact that there is so much sport to see, how the hell is anyone supposed to find time for sightseeing and laying on the beach around here?!?!

Anyway, in the time it’s taken to write the above, the underground got back on the move, I’ve negotiated the rush hour crowds at Centro Do Brazil station and am on the train to the stadium. 

Oh and last night’s weather actually added to the drama and experience. Without that I wouldn’t have been in a stadium at almost midnight that was 75% Brazillian, 10% French, with the remainder from the rest of the world, watching the only event still going on. A pole vault completion, where a home town hero became a South American legend in the most audacious style by out foxing and out jumping the French reigning Olympic champion. (If you haven’t seen it, find the video on the BBC website). 

With only the two gladiators left in the competition, I can’t imagine that there wasn’t a person in the building that didn’t have goose bumps and a tear in their eye as the electric atmosphere surpassed even that created by that fellow Bolt the previous evening. Just one example of the drama which the Olympic Games is all about. 

But, like I say, not much point in writing a lot about the stuff that has a zillion TV cameras pointed at it. 

So, sport aside, what’s been happening during my first few days in this iconic city? 

Well, I’ve overcome my pre-Rio paranoia; the main elements of which were personal security (i.e. getting mugged), getting lost (particularly in an area where I was likely to get mugged) and missing events I have tickets for, due to either of the above or inadequate transport. (I worked on the transport for London2012, so have an idea about the level of effort it takes to get it right, even in a part of the world we generally consider to be more orderly). 

In the post paranoia phase, I’m no longer so bleeding early I have a whole carriage on the train to myself on the way to stadium. And I’m spreading my cash and cards around fewer parts of my body. I’ve now moved into the ‘cautious’ phase but am determined not to progress to ‘complacent’. Even though it as felt very safe, secure and well organised so far. ‘Safe’ being a relative term, I did bang my head on the barrel of a rifle yesterday. Although its owner, who was casually letting it hang over the back of an army truck, did look apologetic. 

I’ve managed to get out for a few runs. Yeah, I know I said no more sport, but this is different – I don’t have a TV crew following me. Oh, wait, there was that time when I went to the Park Run at Copacabana hosted by Dame Kelly and Dave (point 41) Moorcroft. There was a camera or 2 there. But that aside, I’ve avoided the limelight. I’ve managed a couple other runs along the sea front, including one with a former club mate of mine from the UAE. They happened to be in town and staying just round the corner and tracked me down on Stava! Plus a trot around the Lagao (after the rowing had finished and all the TV crews had gone). That was really great as the setting is spectacular and, despite the heat, the surrounding mountains provide welcome shade in the late afternoon. 

I’ve met a few interesting and friendly people. Plus a particularly annoying Brit I was stuck with for 3 hours yesterday. One of the former was Martin from Berkshire who, having enjoyed being a GamesMaker at London2012 so much, volunteered to be one here too. Although it seems he hadn’t anticipated being allocated to the equestrian centre with duties including mucking out the stables. Others have included a close friend of KJT who was in the stadium for the finale of the heptathlon, and Libby, a runner from Newcastle, who shares my aspiration to visit the big fellow on top the hill on foot rather than use the cog railway (I’m mean, what self respecting runner would take the train up Snowdonia, so same applies here right?). 

The locals have been friendly too, although communication challenges have reminded me how frustrating being a unilingual Brit can be. Although a splattering of Spanish can be quite useful in Portugal, it’s of no use whatsoever here. Even after eating it, I was still unsure what was in that sandwich I bought the other day. 

Anyway, better go, time for some more sport.