Alpine girl

Part 1

If my legs aren't burning by the end of a course, I haven't tried hard enough. If they aren't and I still won, I'm in the wrong division, or racing for the wrong mountain. I need to enroll in a ski academy that will work me to the bone every day until the burning never stops, so I just get used to it.

That's the mindset that my parents etched into my mind ever since I could ski. I started racing when I was 3, because my dad would set up brushed on the hill in our backyard, giving me a miny slalom course, which was more or less just weaving back and forth through the gates. My dad always says that's the moment he saw it-the talent. That this young girl, who had only been skiing earlier that year, could do these stubbies.

He then proceeded to set more gates, hairpins, delays, and once he convinced my mom to let him take down the old swing set in the backyard so he could set GS courses. He knew and I knew; this was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.

My mom died the summer when I was 3, and my dad didn't think he would ever find love again. She died of a freak accident, a broken femur, which put her in septic shock. She broke her leg figure skating, which she was incredibly good at, and wanted me to do.

My parents met while at the Olympics, well my dad as an athlete, but my mom as a fan. Their meeting was a complete fluke, he wasn't even supposed to be out, and my mom had no idea who he was. He tried to impress her at the bar, talking about his race, and since she figured he was just some guy who outlived his prime, it didn't work. Of course, when she found out who it was she was talking to, by a friend who she had traveled with, she was dumbfounded.

This was 3 days after the fact, when they had exchanged numbers and had been talking, and had even gone out for drinks I believe. This part is my favorite- my mom and her friend go to the men's GS race, and she hears T. Michaels, thinking it's no way it was her tucker Michaels, who had been relentlessly hitting on her at the bar 3 nights before. That, as you could imagine, lead to the very interesting conversation piece of "why didn't you tell me you were an Olympian?"

I was born, and they wanted an Ancient Greek name, because they owe their relationship to the Olympics. Cora was the daughter of Zeus, so they loved it immediately.

When I was 4, my dad rekindled a love with his high school sweetheart, who I never really liked, but then again, I idolize the stories I hear of my mother. No one could ever fill her shoes, and no love story would ever be as great as theirs.

When I was 5, my father and his wife had my brother, tuck, who was never allowed on a course. his wife said it was too dangerous. she encouraged my skiing, though, so either she wanted me to be famous so she could mooch off my fame, or that I die, and she gets rid of me.

When I was 9 I joined my first race team, which was the U11 team, but my dad had connections on the mountains board, and convinced them to let me 'tryout'. It was a co-ed team, which scared me because the girls were so outnumbered. The first day of practice, they took us to the top of a course, and as we slipped they asked us if anyone knew what we were supposed to do at any given point of the course. Sure kids knew the basics, but I could already see   that I was ahead of these kids, sure it was microscopically because I knew to skip the gate after the hair pin, but it meant to world to me.

At the age of 11, I started cross blocking, which bothered the boys on my team greatly, because who was this girl, flying down the course right into gates, when the rest were still learning. If you hadn't caught on, I stayed on the u11 team for 2 years, but my dad ran NASTAR courses with me, which was when he taught me to cross block.

At the age of 13, I had beat out all the boys on my team, and in our races. I raced with the girls, but gave my self a challenge and started 'racing' against the boys. We have different courses, and it's a fact that they're genetically faster, but that only fueled me. You always have to be faster than the boys.

Later that year, I was pulled out of public school, and enrolled at a ski academy. Here I got faster and stronger. I was never as muscular as the other girls, though, which didn't serve as a disadvantage, but served as a point of self criticism, where I just couldn't bulk up like everyone else at my school. I know I'm being irrational, and there are many girls who didn't want muscles, but I thought there was a correlation between physical appearance and performance.

Boys were a no-go for me, I never have time for any of that. The games, the heartbreak, even the happiness. It's a false sense of hope that can be pulled from you at any time, and you're none the wiser.