After a journey back to the hotel, followed by dinner and the kind of sleep you only get after standing in the cold all day, we woke up ready for our next Olympic adventure: biathlon.

Getting there, however, was a journey. First, a drive. Then a solid walk. Then two shuttle buses (because one would be too easy). Then more walking. And finally, squeezing into an already packed stadium, trailing behind a boy who somehow always manages to find a spot (on a packed U-Bahn, no less) like it’s a personal talent. The rest of us? We’re left to aggressively “Entschuldigung” and “grazie” our way through the crowd, bumping into people, stepping on toes, and pretending this is all part of the plan. Oh, and it was snowing. Of course.

The Antholz-Anterselva Biathlon Arena is seriously cool. Worth-the-effort cool. And biathlon? Possibly the most entertaining sport that no one talks about nearly enough.

It’s part skiing, part shooting, and seriously intense. Ping ping. Swoosh swoosh. They race through the snow at full speed, then just… casually stop and hit tiny targets like it’s no big deal.

The best part? The crowd. Thousands of people, music blasting, everyone cheering and dancing—and then suddenly, total silence when it’s time to shoot. Instant. Like someone hit a mute button.

And then, as if the day wasn’t already great, we met Milo. I’m still not over it. There may have been feelings involved.

Overall, the Olympics were amazing. Slightly chaotic, occasionally inconvenient, mildly freezing, and completely unforgettable.