Olympic medal reallocation ceremony finally gives Lashinda Demus and Erik Kynard their golden moment 12 years later

PARIS — There was no three-step podium. No American flag floating into the air. No endorsement deals awaiting. No packed stadium ready to roar. But there were, on Friday here at Trocadéro, at last, gold medals around the necks of Lashinda Demus and Erik Kynard — medals they earned 12 years ago.

Demus was a hurdler, and Kynard a high-jumper, at the 2012 Olympics. Each took silver behind a Russian later found guilty of doping. After years of appeals and procedural delays, Olympic officials confirmed that, eventually, they would receive their rightful golds.

What they would not receive, though, was a moment. They would join a long line of Olympians who received retroactive medals at offices, in private, in the mail, or even at a Burger King — "which I deem to be extremely inappropriate," Kynard said.

Demus did, too, so she fought. "I will be damned if that happens to me," she said. She hired an attorney. She banded together with the rightful silver and bronze medalists in her race. She lobbied the International Olympic Committee for a moment, a celebration, media, "an international-level thing."

And on Friday, she got some version of it, in the first-ever series of “medal reallocation ceremonies” at an Olympics.

The scene here at Champions Park, a daily Olympic fan festival open to the public, was simultaneously emotional, wholesome and strange. The ceremonies began with Beverly McDonald, now 54 years old, once the fourth-place finisher in the 200-meter final at the 2000 Sydney Olympics, now the bronze medalist (due to Marion Jones’ retroactive disqualification).

Mostly one by one, athletes from seven different track and field and weightlifting events, spanning 2000, 2004 and 2012, walked down a runway, onto a makeshift stage near where the 2024 Olympic opening ceremony had ended. A couple thousand fans stood and applauded. A video board replayed highlights of the athlete’s decade-plus-old performance. A public-address announcer introduced them as a new, upgraded medal was draped around their neck.

For Kynard and Demus, the only two gold medalists, the “Star Spangled Banner” played.

They turned toward a video board, which displayed a stock image of a waving American flag.

“It was not fully what I wanted,” Demus said. “I wanted to be inside the Olympic stadium.”

“But they came as close as they could to get what I did want,” she continued. “And I appreciate that, and respect it.”

For the now-retired medalists, there were conflicting emotions. For years, without the gold medal they’d so fiercely sought as athletes, some had struggled. Demus stopped watching track and field when her deteriorating body forced her to step away from the sport. Extracting herself was the only way to get over the pain of her 2012 loss. A retroactive medal award can’t retroactively change those years of her life.

It also can’t recoup the dollars lost 12 years ago in the gap between silver and gold. “I lost sponsorship deals, I lost bonuses, I lost — who knows,” Demus said. “If I were to add it up, I probably lost millions.”

There were, however, silver linings. Several of the reallocated medalists brought their kids to Paris, many of whom weren't yet born in 2012 (or earlier). Kynard was joined by his two sons, aged 1 and 2. Demus brought all four of hers — plus her mom, dad, niece and two cousins — on a week-long trip partially funded by the IOC and U.S. Olympic and Paralympic Committee. She launched a GoFundMe to make up the difference, and raised $21,750 in total. "Thanks to your incredible support," she wrote to those who donated, "my dream of going to Paris is transforming into an even more magical experience."

And on Friday, it was what she hoped it would be — or at least what she had come to terms with it being. Demus felt “pride.” She felt “celebrated.” She said it was “closure.”

It didn’t necessarily make up for being cheated out of a medal, for her or others. It was special, in part, because Demus had detached herself from “the disappointment, the pain, the sadness, or whatever I felt at the time,” she said. She and some others viewed this independently, as a special opportunity that they never thought they’d get, rather than compensation for something that was stolen.

Kynard, who has been in Paris throughout the Games as a high-performance director with USA Track and Field, was asked if the day had made him feel “whole.”

No, he said, “I would not sum it up as making me whole for what I lost.” Rather, “it's like I told a joke 12 years ago, and the world just now is starting to get it.”