It hasn’t even been a month since the curtain fell on the Paris Olympics, since Tom Cruise rappelled from the roof of the stadium at the closing ceremony, accepted the five-ringed flag from gymnast Simone Biles, rode away on a motorcycle and – through the magic of the film – parachuted onto the Hollywood sign, signaling the passing of the torch to the next host city, Los Angeles.

As beautiful and great as the 2024 Olympic Games were, they became a memory the moment the flame was extinguished.

While sports fans in the U.S. turned their attention back to the NFL and college football, more than 11,000 Olympians from 200 countries returned to their daily lives, most in relative anonymity and many of them battling post-Olympic blues, a little-noticed ailment that Olympic athletes face every four years.

For some, the blues escalate into depression.

After covering 14 Olympic Games, this recurring theme was on my mind Wednesday morning as I watched six local Olympians receive the key to the county from Mayor Daniella Levine Cava and other excited dignitaries at a ceremony in the Miami-Dade County Commission Chambers.

One by one, the athletes were introduced, given a shiny key in a black felt box, and then posed for group photos: synchronized swimming silver medalist Daniella Ramirez, judoka Angelica Delgado, sailor Sarah Newberry Moore, triple jumper Russell Robinson, sprint gold medalist Twanisha “Tee Tee” Terry and Heat star Bam Adebayo, who won a gold medal with the USA team.

Of course, it was Adebayo who generated the most excitement. He is the tallest and most famous of the group and one of the lucky Olympians who had a lot waiting for him back home after leaving Paris. The three-time All-Star signed a $166 million contract extension in July and the upcoming NBA season is just around the corner.

But what about the others? What about three-time Olympian Delgado, the 33-year-old daughter of a Cuban immigrant who has dedicated her life to judo and whose only sponsors are her jersey brand (Mizuno) and the New York Athletic Club? What about Ramirez, who has a gold medal and a gold key but no major endorsement deals?

“When you do well, people expect it to be like a huge celebration for months and you’re super happy. Of course it is, but it’s also a huge feeling of emptiness because the purpose and meaning of life that you invested so much in is now gone,” says Ramirez, a 22-year-old Miami native of Venezuelan descent who attended UCLA.

“It can feel like post-Olympic blues or post-Olympic depression because you’re so elated to be back home and there are these quiet moments where you have to sit by yourself and say, ‘OK, that time in my life is over. It’s time to start a new chapter.'”

Anticipating these feelings, Ramirez spent two weeks with friends on a remote farm in Denmark immediately after the Olympics to relax, meditate, do yoga and reconnect with nature.

“I got back in touch with myself and tried to figure out what I wanted to do because for so long I was just swimming,” she said.

Delgado could understand that.

“People don’t really understand that you work your whole life. I started judo when I was 9 and I’m 33 now. This was my last Olympics. A life of dedication and work flies by and you wonder, ‘What now?'” said Delgado, a Tamia native who graduated from Ferguson High and FIU.

After failing to make the 2012 Olympic team, Delgado was depressed and began working with Miami-based sports psychologist Dr. Gilberto Gonzalez of the DSI Sports Lab. She says he helped her a lot to overcome the post-Olympic blues.

Carmen Jackson, Northwestern High’s legendary track and field coach, watched Wednesday’s ceremony with much wisdom in her eyes. She has mentored students at the school for 39 years and has coached five Olympians, including Terry, who won gold in the 400-meter relay.

“After all the bells and whistles of the Olympics are over, we do a very poor job in this country of promoting our athletes after all they have done, after years of sacrifice, hard work and dedication to represent this country and our communities,” Jackson said. “In other countries, they promote Olympians, give them the tools to continue to compete and help them find jobs. We don’t do that here.”

“We don’t do our Olympians any good. We just let them perform, cheer, give them a piece of paper praising them and then forget about them. No, we need to nurture these people and they can bring other young people through. The kids may say, ‘Oh, I’ll get support if I do what I’m supposed to do.’ We need to reach out more after the Olympics, from the highest government officials to our local politicians.”

The first time I became aware of my post-Olympic depression was in 1996, during a painfully honest press conference by Olympic gold medalist Mark Lenzi, who won gold in diving in 1992. He described how he struggled mentally and emotionally for more than a year after standing on the winner’s podium in Barcelona.

“I thought I was God’s gift to the world,” Lenzi said. “It’s so easy to fall into that trap. I went from being a small-town kid in Virginia to riding in a limousine to the ‘Tonight Show.’ You train so hard for so long and expect the gold medal to change your life forever. But it doesn’t. Sometimes it makes life worse. The day comes when nobody cares who you are, the gold medal is in the sock drawer, and I wasn’t prepared for it.”

He even considered selling his medal to finance flight school, but he picked himself up and competed in the 1996 Olympics, where he won a bronze medal. Lenzi struggled with depression for most of the rest of his life. He died in 2012 at the age of 43.

But not all Olympians feel empty after the closing ceremony.

Newberry Moore, the Olympic sailor who learned the sport in Biscayne Bay, has a three-year-old son. In the months leading up to the Games and afterward in France, she had to spend a lot of time away from him and her husband, so for her, the end of the Olympics meant more time for her family.

“I felt an emptiness during the competition, a part of me was unfulfilled as a mother because I knew my child was asking, ‘Where is mommy tonight?’ ‘Why isn’t she staying with us?'” she said. “So after the Olympics was a low point for me, but in a different way. For me, it’s filling a void. I was able to take my son to his first week of kindergarten, and that was amazing.”

As Delgado walked through the lobby of the county government building, she passed a group of women having their picture taken by one of the official county photographers. Delgado stopped to get out of the way of the photo, but the photographer said, “No, keep walking, you’re an Olympian!”

The women clapped and cheered. Delgado smiled, clutched her gold key and walked to her car.