In the year that I've covered this election, Pennsylvania remained a constant force in the presidential race.
Each candidate - John McCain, Hillary Clinton and President-elect Barack Obama - aspired to be the resurgent underdog in Pennsylvania in the image of Rocky Balboa.
Throughout the 2008 campaign, every candidate took advantage of the iconic "Rocky" tune. It was at every rally for every presidential candidate, and was certainly played more often than it should have.
Witnessing the development of these candidates has been a strange journey, to say the least.
Last November, the small press conference arranged by the McCain campaign before his speech at Penn was attended by fewer than 10 journalists, with the national press already having written off his campaign for the Republican nomination.
McCain's responses were candid and direct. He was a straight-talking candidate friendly with the press and didn't hide his desire to "stop spending" and relieve the nation's debt for the next generation.
And McCain was certainly a maverick that night: He walked onto the stage and began speaking before any of the opening guests had a chance to introduce him, including Utah Gov. Jon Huntsman.
Yet despite that confusion, McCain answered dozens of questions from students and was not afraid to speak to the concerns of a college audience, which could have been hostile given the student body's Democratic leaning.
But it wasn't until the Pennsylvania Democratic primary in April that the race heated up along Locust Walk.
The morning after the Texas and Ohio primaries ended with Clinton wins, the Penn Democrats helped host Chelsea Clinton in front of Houston Hall, as the campaigns descended on the state for a heated six-week primary battle.
But just a few hours after hosting Chelsea Clinton, the Penn Dems held a controversial meeting to discuss whom they would endorse for president.
I wasn't allowed to stay in the meeting room and waited outside.
The Penn Dems chose to endorse Obama, bucking the state party hierarchy that had endorsed Clinton, including Gov. Ed Rendell and Philadelphia Mayor Michael Nutter.
Former Penn for Hillary communications director Patrick Bauer said it was a "regrettable decision" the group had chosen to endorse at all.
Penn Dems argued they would still welcome any Democratic politician, even as they established some cooperative efforts with Penn for Obama.
Once the state had weathered the Democratic primary battle, Pennsylvanians seemed likely to vote for Obama in the general election - despite their hesitancy during the primary.
Despite the McCain campaign's hope for an opening in the rural parts of the state, the Obama grassroots organization was too strong.
One reminder of this repeatedly came in the form of a phone call.
Each day, at about the same time, I received a call from the Obama campaign's college campus coordinator asking whom I would need to contact for my upcoming story.
While just a phone call, it represented a hired staffer calling college journalists every single day for two months. That takes time, money and dedication.
In comparison, the McCain campaign directed me to its spokesman for Ohio and Pennsylvania. One person was responsible for all journalists in two of the most critical swing states.
During the Saturday morning of fall break, I found myself five blocks west of campus for the final rally of an Obama barnstorming of the city.
Students and neighborhood residents meshed into the crowd for hours waiting for Obama's arrival.
Obama, who just six months earlier was at odds with the Philadelphia political machine, held hands in the air with Rendell and Nutter in a sign of party unity and determination.
In West Philly, Obama's success in mobilizing his base was clear. In the Pennsylvania primary, Obama was clearly defeated. But the campaign's skill and determination allowed him to go the distance.
