If only she knew where, when and how to do it.

"I've never done aerobics or anything," she said.

Leading up to the Olympic Games in August, Kunkel's life was programmed, in and out of the pool. Suddenly, she is on her own.

"It's quite an adjustment," said Kunkel, who attended Hunter High and Brigham Young University. "It's hard to get back into life. You've been through such a big thing. . . . It's just weird."

It's the same for every Olympian. After all of the anticipation, the Games are over. Whether the primary emotion is relief, letdown or joy, it is deeply felt.

Regardless of how they performed in Athens, athletes face a recovery process that usually includes deciding what to do next. Resuming lives that were placed on hold during Olympic preparations is not easy.

"Gold medal or no medal, you still have to go through it," said Rich Gordin, a sports psychologist at Utah State University who works with U.S. Olympic track and field athletes.

Many athletes consider retiring from world-class competition. For others, it's an issue of summoning the energy to continue training. The recovery is "not only emotional, but physical also," said hammer thrower James Parker, from Utah State. "My body just kind of broke down."

Gordin also advises professional golfers who experience the highs and lows of competing in four major tournaments every year. Olympic athletes have one "major" every four years, so their emotional investment is even greater.

Even basketball players such as the Jazz's Carlos Boozer and Carlos Arroyo, whose careers do not revolve around the Olympics, needed recovery time after Athens.

"It was intense basketball; I definitely had to get a break, a chance to wind down," Boozer said. "Off that emotional high, you have to relax yourself or you'll be drained during the [NBA] season."

There is more than just one track meet or swim meet staged every four years. But competing at the international level in those sports will always be built around the Olympics.

"I cannot imagine working for four years for just one tournament," said Arroyo, who starred for Puerto Rico. "I would be too overwhelmed to play by then."

The athletes who went through that four-year preparation were struck by how abruptly it all ended.

"You train so much for so long to go to the Olympics, and then it's all over so fast," said swimmer Lenny Krayzelburg.

U.S. teammate Michael Phelps experienced so much pre-Olympic buildup that the competition quickly wore him down, even though he finished with six gold medals and two bronzes. His first race, the 400-meter individual medley, "took a lot out of me," Phelps said. "It was hard to get back up."

Cael Sanderson, of Heber City, went through a similarly pressurized quest as a college wrestler, completing an unbeaten career at Iowa State in 2002. Yet while he was relieved after that last NCAA match, he knew he soon would be preparing for international competition. His post-Olympic feeling is different, because he is not sure whether he will wrestle anymore.

For years, Sanderson explained, "You're getting up every morning with one goal in mind, thinking, 'What can I do to get closer to that goal?' Once it's over, for me, I've just been kind of relieved. On the other hand, I'm just looking forward to trying something else."

Sanderson last week became an assistant coach at Iowa State. Coaching is a natural extension of an athletic career, although a coach's daily impact -and satisfaction level - is not as easy to judge as an athlete's own progress.

"It's totally different," said Tiffany Lott-Hogan, who has resumed working with BYU athletes as an assistant strength coach. "It's not really my own efforts. I get a lot of satisfaction out of watching the athletes improve in the weight room, but I'm not the one under the bar, lifting the weights."

Lott-Hogan, 29, is married and has a 3-year-old son. She no longer will compete in the demanding heptathlon, but is considering specializing in the 100-meter hurdles or the javelin, if she can find sponsorship and regain the "hunger" to pursue the sport.

According to Gordin, athletes must deal with one of three emotions immediately after the competition: euphoria, anger or depression. Those feelings can go away or intensify in the weeks and months that follow. And then there is more processing, involving a self-study of training methods or a totally new direction in life.

Boozer and Arroyo knew where they were going from Athens: back to basketball. Most athletes find themselves at a crossroads after every Games, which is why the U.S. Olympic Committee has increased its career counseling services.

"Olympic people usually have invested a large part of their life into that dream," Gordin said. Often, that means giving little thought to post-Olympic pursuits.

Whether to keep competing is a big decision. For diver Justin Wilcock, the answer is yes in spite of - or possibly because of - an unsatisfying Olympic experience. A debilitating back injury doomed Wilcock to a last-place finish in the men's 3-meter preliminaries, which "motivated me even more" to keep diving, he said.

Wilcock is back at BYU, intending to complete a degree in horticulture in April before returning to diving training in Texas. He recently watched the videotape of his performance in Athens, which was "pretty difficult," he said. "I mean, it was as bad as it felt. [But] it helped me realize I was happy to compete.

"I've heard from a lot of people that you kind of go through a little depression after the Olympics, but I don't think I've experienced that - maybe because I've been so busy."

Krayzelburg observed, "Knowing what you want to do, having a plan, makes it easier."

But not necessarily easy.

Kunkel has a husband, a career as a labor delivery nurse in Los Angeles, family plans and the satisfaction of - probably - having ended her diving career with a strong ninth-place finish in the women's 3-meter event. Yet it's apparent that being out of the pool is a little unsettling.

"I'm getting back to normal life," she said, pausing as if to consider what that meant. "I've never had a normal life."

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Tribune sportswriter Phil Miller contributed to this story.