by Deji Ogeyingbo
How a sleeping bag became a major catalyst for Yaroslava Mahuchikh’s Paris win
Every story has a watershed moment. Some might even call it a fork in the road. Elite athletes might even become superstitious if that one event keeps occurring and becomes a catalyst for them to win.
In Paris, Yaroslava Mahuchikh lay under a sleeping bag, her eyes half-closed, drifting between focus and surrender. From the stands, it might’ve seemed odd, a world-class high jumper sprawled out on the stadium floor, surrounded by competitors and cameras, yet looking more like she was camping in a field than about to leap for Olympic gold.
But this routine, this small patch of stillness amid the chaos, had been her secret weapon. In a career defined by its courage, Mahuchikh had turned to simple tools: a braid for luck, a book for escape, and now, a sleeping bag for calm. It was, she said, a way to forget the crowd, the stakes, and even the bitter memories of a country under siege.
The journey to this crucial moment had begun on a morning in 2022, the kind of morning that splits lives into before and after. Mahuchikh woke to the sound of explosions and the jarring knowledge that her world would never be the same. She had laughed when she heard it. The nervous, uncontrollable laughter of someone whose brain refuses to process a new and horrible reality.
For months, she stayed in Dnipro, her hometown, delivering humanitarian aid to those in need, hoping somehow her country would turn a corner. But when the chance to compete at the world indoor championships in Belgrade arrived, she knew what she had to do. Even as her homeland was battered, she could still represent Ukraine on the world stage. She packed her gear and embarked on a three-day journey by car, crossing borders and bypassing checkpoints, driven by the belief that her victory could be her country’s victory too.
Arriving in Belgrade, the then 20-year-old somehow found her footing on that cold track. Mahuchikh defied her doubts, cleared the bar at 2.02m, and walked away with her first senior Gold.
Two years later, she arrived in Paris with more medals and an even heavier burden. The yellow and blue of Ukraine painted on her face were a constant reminder of the people counting on her, watching her, from a country half-destroyed but not defeated. As she stepped into the Stade de France, her sleeping bag was the first thing she brought out.
In high jump, the seconds between jumps are heavy with anticipation. Muscles tense, and the mind races to replay every move. But lying on the ground, staring at the sky or the stadium lights, Mahuchikh found peace. “I feel comfortable when I lay, and sometimes I watch the clouds,” she told TIME after the event. “Sometimes I count numbers 1, 2, 3, or breathe in, breathe out. It’s like… relax, don’t think about being at the stadium.”
The world noticed the sleeping bag. Social media buzzed with fans curious about this quirky ritual, and some laughed at the sight. But in that quiet cocoon, Mahuchikh found her strength. She could block out the noise, the tension, and focus on the only thing that mattered: herself and the bar.
When she clinched Gold in Paris, it felt like everyone in the stadium could relate to her story. But Mahuchikh’s victory wasn’t just about her skill. It was about the resilience that had carried her here, the willpower that had seen her survive one of the darkest chapters in her country’s history, and the unique ability to find calm amid chaos.
No doubt, the High jump might be one of the loneliest events in track and field, with its one-on-one dance against gravity. But each time Mahuchikh jumped, she wasn’t alone. She carried with her the hopes of millions, people for whom she was a symbol of endurance, a reminder that the fight goes on. Her victories were shared, not just celebrated. “We all are fighting for our people, for our soldiers,” she would often say. “We want to show every person in the world that we will continue fighting, that the war is not finished.”
In Paris, her ritual became an inspiration. Between jumps, lying under that sleeping bag, she wasn’t hiding; she was recharging. Her methods were unconventional, perhaps even odd, but they were effective. Her resilience was not just a headline; it was something lived, something earned in each tense second before she took off for the bar. And by the time the night was over, Mahuchikh was more than just a gold medalist. She was a reminder of what grit looks like, of what it means to carry a nation’s spirit, not with words, but with action.
