Being an Olympian isn’t what it used to be. The emotion, the intensity, the sheer pride of winning and being able to have the title, Best in the World all counts to nothing. Winning my first gold medal last night, here in the vast, towering stadium, with tens of thousands of seats all pointed towards the track, didn’t feel like I thought Usain Bolt felt when he won his first gold all those years ago. Mainly because I was booked to win. It was a cliche finish at the end of the race where a Russian and I powered through the other competitors and we were way out in front neck and neck just like the director instructed. Knowing the outcome of the race, I remember running effortlessly towards the finish line with a forced, pained expression to please the fans. Just as the director wanted, I crossed the line inches ahead of the Russian. Although they knew that our races were scripted (and probably the winner of the race due to leaks on the Internet) the cheers and the jubilation from the crowd was almost enough to make the win seem real.