Six years ago Billie Sampson made a choice. She made a choice and she chose skiing over home, over friends, over a social life, and over her childhood sweetheart Patrick. At first it had seemed like the right decision but now that Billie was injured...
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I've always been bad at making decisions. Always weighing the pros and the cons trying to work out what the best option is, what the best outcome could be, never wanting to miss out on anything or make the wrong choice. I think everyone has a moment in their lives where they have to make a big decision, where they have to choose between one life or another. I don't know if everyone notices if they don't overthink everything like I do but I can pinpoint the exact moment where my life cleaved in two and it split into the life I chose and the life I could have had. Sometimes I imagine that other life running parallel to the one I'm living and I wonder if I'm happier there, if I'm as lonely as I am over here or if the other me is just bored and unfulfilled. Six years ago I made a choice. I chose skiing. I chose skiing over everything; over family, over friends, over home. To give myself the best shot I had to be near the mountains, near a national training centre with other athletes but that meant I had to move across the country. At the time it had been exciting; I'd felt like I'd almost had no choice, if I didn't go I knew I would regret it. I'd always thought that I could go to school later, I could have relationships later, but I couldn't ski later I could only ski now.
The first few years were great. I couldn't regret my decision, I didn't have time! I was so busy training and competing and training was fun and I was improving at such a quick rate; I had potential. That's the thing about potential though the more time that passes, the older you get the less potential you have. Eventually my rate of improvement slowed down and that was fine as long as I was still improving but I was still so far from my goal. Now I was injured and my goal was even farther away and I had given up so much and I couldn't help but wonder if it was all worth it. Without skiing what did I have? I'd tried to go to school but I hadn't been able to balance it all. I had a rule about dating other skiers, about dating people that I trained with everyday, but I didn't know anyone else so I hadn't had a relationship since the on and off again one from before I left so instead I just had a person I kissed when I was drunk.Drunk. That's what I'd been last night. There'd been a big competition, I hadn't participated because of my injury but that didn't mean I had to miss out on the party afterwards. I groaned as I became more awake; my throat was dry, I felt a little bit sick and there was a stabbing pain behind one eye. My eyelashes stuck to each other as I forced my eyes open, I'd been too drunk to take my makeup off. I stumbled to the bathroom and swore under my breath as pain shot through my knee, I shouldn't have danced so much at the bar, I washed my face and then crept back to the bedroom. I was home but I wasn't alone. He was still asleep, a muscular arm thrown across his eyes and a stretch of bare torso visible above the duvet. We walked a weird line me and him; when we were sober we were platonic, we bickered like siblings, I talked to him about boys and he turned to me when he had issues with his on and off girlfriend but when we were drunk (and him and his girlfriend were off again) we'd stumble home together, we'd end up in one of our beds and we'd even joke about our hypothetical future (as of last night we were going to have three kids but it changed all the time), but as soon as the alcohol wore off we were back to friends and nothing more.
