For two weeks, the Olympics both sets and ruins your schedule. Glad to be going to bed at a decent hour, but I already miss:

The anticipation of another Michael Phelps swim.

The class shown by Tyson Gay and Lolo Jones after stomach-turning losses.

The thrill and rush of the last 25m in the Men’s 4 x 100 relay, including clips of the guys on the edge of the pool pleading with Jason Lezak to swim faster.

Watching anyone from China play ping-pong.

Mary Carillo stories. She should host her own show back home.

BMX bikes making the turn.

Nastia Liukin and Shawn Johnson doing things in the air I can’t do in a pool.

Bela Karoli saying whatever he wants (though I personally comprehended 33% of it).

The Brazil Men’s Volleyball team captain beginning his post-gold-medal-game interview by saying, “First, I want to talk about life,” then offering condolences to U.S. Coach Hugh McCutcheon on the murder of his father-in-law.

When did synchronized swimming become aqua-gymnastics? Still not a fan, but that was impressive.

Theatrics aside, Usain Bolt.

In spite of doping, judges, and cheating at various levels, there is still something compellingly “right” about the Olympics absent in other corners of the sporting world. Perhaps the relentless, single-minded focus and dedication. Perhaps the worldwide scope of the competition. Perhaps the anxiety shared by viewers who realize they are watching the culmination of years of preparation for one brief, explosive moment of performance that leaves a person either victorious or devastated.

At the close of the 1976 summer games, my mom turned to me and said, “The next time these games are on you’ll be 12.” Now I’m doing the same thing with my 7-year-old. Maybe I’m just sentimental and the games uniqueness is all in my head, but I’m appreciative to have been around for another Olympics and to have vicariously participated with the rest of the world.

And for DVR.