I broke down in the Sam's Club parking lot.

It wasn't a mechanical breakdown. It was a "don't stare at me because I look like a freak right now" emotional purge. I'm not sure what's more embarrassing to confess: the purge, or its culprit.

An "American Idol" song.

But this wasn't just any "Idol" song. At least that's what I told myself as my teary eyes bordered on becoming a circus attraction. The tune on the radio was "Home," performed by season 11 "Idol" champ Phillip Phillips of Leesburg, Ga.

Maybe you've heard it. If you're an Olympics fan, it's hard to avoid.

When Phillip stopped in the Atlanta area with the "Idol" tour on Sunday, he told me he was somewhat surprised his first single appeared so prominently on Olympic promos.

"It's just crazy and I feel so blessed," he said. "I'm just so thankful for them for using it."

(Shameless attempt at self-promotion: I've pasted my interview with Phillip at the the bottom of this article. Click here to watch interviews with Jessica Sanchez and Joshua Ledet.)

Among the lyrics in "Home": "The trouble it might drag you down. If you get lost, you can always be found. Just know you're not alone. Cause I'm going to make this place your home."

Arguably, "Home" is a song for nomads -- a term that is sometimes confined to ambitionless drifters. But in reality, the nomadic lifestyle is often a consequence of ambition.

Watch the Olympics and you'll hear stories about athletes who achieved their personal dreams -- but often at the price of training at gyms far away from their hometowns.

As they display their medals on camera, we're told the end result is worth the homesickness.

When you don't have a medal, that's sometimes harder to believe.

Like many of my friends, I have a profession where advancement generally requires a willingness to move. And regardless of the true meaning of "Home," I can't listen to it without remembering the many makeshift families I've had throughout the years.

Still, it's not the same. Anyone who's been there knows you hope it's only temporary. You hope you'll one day reminisce about the arrangement while sitting around a much more convenient dinner table.

Most days, dreams of a gold medal bury the sacrifices you've made.

But other days, you come out empty-handed.