In the midst of her jumps, Yaroslava Mahuchikh retreats to her bench, slips under a sleeping bag she always carries into the arena, rests her head on her backpack, and allows her eyes to gently close. She lets her thoughts flow freely. Occasionally, she opens her eyes to gaze at the night sky. In the intensity of an Olympic final, amidst a throng of 80,000 spectators: paradoxically, this is the only place where Mahuchikh can find tranquility.
She doesn’t really sleep. “But I close my eyes,” Mahuchikh explains. “I have a camping blanket that adapts to any temperature. Whether it’s hot or cold, it keeps me comfortable. It’s my way to unwind before my jumps, focusing solely on them while noticing how at ease I feel.”
Indeed, there is little peace for her here, at the bustling La Villette folly that Ukraine has turned into their Olympic base. The room is filled with photographers, journalists, and dignitaries from around the globe, each wanting a piece of the new high jump gold medallist: a selfie, an autograph, or an interview.
She has a glazed, dazed expression. She has managed barely an hour of sleep. Immediately after this interview, she must return to the stadium to receive her medal.
Back home, peace is equally elusive. She hails from Dnipro in central Ukraine, a city of a million in better times, but now significantly scarcer in its population, still enduring constant Russian missile shelling. Friends and family keep her informed with the latest updates. Rocket attacks are shared in their family WhatsApp group.
“I’m 22 now, but so much has happened to me,” she reflects. “With every rocket attack, I worry about losing my parents and family. Sadly, many children are now left without parents. We live in the 21st century with technology and freedom; the world is progressing. We should be exploring and sharing experiences, but instead, we’re forced to fight for our homeland.”
When asked what she misses most about Dnipro before the war, Mahuchikh says: “The wonderful memories with my friends. That’s where we grew up together. The coffee. Dnipro is known as the capital of coffee; it has so many cafes.”
“And I truly miss the atmosphere when people could be joyful. Nowadays, whenever you feel happiness, your thoughts inevitably return to the soldiers who sacrificed their lives to protect us, leaving their families behind.”
It was in Dnipro that Mahuchikh first found her passion for athletics. She began engaging in track and field at age seven, exploring various disciplines: hurdles, jumps, throws. Eventually, the high jump captivated her completely. “I loved the sensation of weightlessness,” she recalls. “After winning at the youth world championships in Kenya, I realized this was my calling, my passion, and I aspired to win a gold medal someday.”
On the day of the Russian invasion, Mahuchikh packed as much of her belongings as she could, crammed them into her car, and fled. From a nearby village, the Ukrainian athletics federation worked on finding a way to evacuate her from the country. The journey to Belgrade stretched over three days, filled with detours, roadblocks, distant explosions, and the faint sound of air raid sirens. Currently, she trains in Portugal but has also resided in Germany, Estonia, and Belgium over the past few years.
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As the war enters its third summer, it remains relentless. For those of us distanced from its realities, an understandable sense of helplessness, perhaps even a kind of paralysis, emerges in the face of this ongoing tragedy. So, what practical steps can athletes take beyond providing Ukrainians with brief moments of joy? What can the rest of us do?
“We engage with international media, which is very significant,” Mahuchikh notes. “We try, like every Ukrainian, to donate and help people, and we buy supplies for our army. The United Kingdom has been a tremendous support. Many Ukrainians have arrived there.
“Every nation should come together. The war began in 2014 with Luhansk and Donetsk, and now there’s talk about stopping the war if we concede territory. That’s not feasible. We must fight until the end.”
For Mahuchikh, her journey as an athlete is far from over. She has three more competitions this year, including the Diamond League Final in Brussels in September, followed by a lengthy winter training period. But first, she longs to return home. “I can’t wait to go back to my city, reconnect with my family and friends, and celebrate this gold medal with them,” she expresses.
Outside, in the courtyard, a large screen displays Olympic events on a continuous loop. Visitors lounge under parasols, enjoying borscht and other traditional Ukrainian delicacies. Nearby, a poignant monument stands erected: a row of seats salvaged from the Sonyachny Stadium in Kharkiv, now devastated by Russian bombardment, positioned at the heart of Ukraine’s Olympic presence as a somber reminder of all that has been lost.
