Olympic Conquest

Cory - High Energy

The Olympic Village is a madhouse. Lots of competitions today and the energy is running high. Athletes are on edge, wondering if they will win gold today. I feel the same edginess as I head to my first competition of the Games.

Before I can even get to the top of the mountain, I am bombarded by the media. Now that I'm more accessible to them and answering their questions, they can't seem to get enough.

"Cory?! Are you nervous? Do you think you have a chance against your younger competitors? Are you worried about your knee? Do you think you can win the gold?"

"Do I think I can win the gold? Good question. I guess we will find out very soon, won't we?" I smile and continue to the top of the run. I feel energetic and anxious for the competition to begin.

I get to the top and it's foggy – I can only see a few feet down the course. I hope it clears up by the time I make my run otherwise I will lose valuable time trying to see through the pea soup conditions.

My coaches greet me as I arrive. "How are you feeling Cory?"

"Good, I feel good. I could use some water." One of the coaches grabs me a bottle. I drink it down in one gulp.

"We've got some tough weather this morning. The fog is supposed to get worse, not better."

"And I'm towards the end of the line up, right?"

"Dead last. And probably when the fog will be the worst."

Those who ski first will have the advantage of less fog. I'll have to trust my body to remember the lines of the course.

As the competition progresses, the fog settles in and the times get longer and longer. My teammate John – ironically the one I helped mentor during the last Olympics and my closest friend on the team – was one of the first to ski and has the fastest run thus far. Lucky bastard.

I try to tune out all distractions and run the course through my mind over and over. I close my eyes and do like I always do – visualize every turn. Jeremy warns me that the officials may halt the race if the weather gets any worse. That's the last thing I want as waiting can be seriously draining both mentally and physically.

The competition continues and there are many stops and restarts as the weather plays havoc on the race. Eventually, my turn comes and the conditions are terrible. The officials want to stop the race again but they're concerned that I am the only one left and I'm the favorite. It could either be a major advantage or disadvantage for me. The problem is that it looks like the weather is only going to get worse, not better. If they cancel the race now, I may not be able to go again until tomorrow. We all stand around waiting for someone to make a final call.

And that's when there is a small lift in the fog. The officials give the thumbs up for me to do my run. Everyone races into position. I step up into the starting gate. It's still hard to see much more than few feet in front of me. To beat John, who still has the best time, I will have to rely entirely on my memory and hope I don't find any obstacles in my path.

Because I'm the last skier, it's quiet at the top of the mountain – exactly how I like it. I visualize the entire course again. I need to be concerned about the chicane. It's a sharp turn and an easy spot for my ski to break loose from my tuck. The starting bell goes off and I burst out of the gate. I know the first third of the course is extremely steep and it will be rough from all the previous skiers. I settle into my tuck and I enter the wall of fog. I'm blanketed by the misty air, which envelops me in eerie silence. All I can hear are my skis cutting through the snow. This run is truly between myself and the mountain. My body falls in line with the course and I rely on the GPS in my brain.