Ryan Gosling, Emma Stone: A Lovely Night
Sölden, Austria, October 5
Thomas
It's too early to be this sweaty, yet here I am, balancing on a Bosu ball and throwing a medicine ball to Martin like my Olympic dreams depend on it.Because, well, this year they kind of do.
"Core tight!"Martin shouts.
"Tell that to my breakfast," I grunt, catching the ball off-center and nearly toppling over.
"You're leaking stability," he says with a grin.
"I'm leaking charisma, actually.Don't confuse the two," I shoot back.
We laugh.The gym smells like rubber mats and sweat, like it always does this time of year.
Lukas is across the room doing hurdle drills with the grace of a confused moose.
He lands, winces, and gives his knee a quick rub like it's an old friend that talks back.
"Nice form, ballerina," Niko calls, filming him for a reel that'll no doubt haunt us on team WhatsApp later.
"At least I don't look like a folding chair when I squat," Lukas fires back.
This is training.Controlled chaos.Hurdle drills to keep our knees honest and our feet light.Balance throws to stop our hips from bailing in high-speed turns.Core work so we don't crumble under g-forces when flying down ice.We train muscles you didn't know existed, just to squeeze an extra hundredth out of every gate.
I move to the leg press, Niko spotting me.He joined the group late, missed the beginning of the pre-season prep, and has catching up to do.
"Heard you were out late in training camp," he says.
"You heard wrong.I was in bed early.Just not alone."
"Olympic prep, huh?Real focused."
"Recovery is recovery," I say, pushing through the last set.
Coach Leitner claps his hands so hard that it echoes off the steel beams."This isn't a ski-themed yoga retreat, boys.You want to make the Olympic cut or get influencer contracts for stretching videos?"
Groans.Grins.Classic Leitner.No one makes us move faster, though.
We finish a circuit, lungs burning, and I grab a towel, wiping down the Bosu with a lazy swipe.Coach walks over, eyes sharp.
"Olympic season," he says, low but firm."Be ready to push.Be ready to navigate the pressure."
I nod."Like I always do.And it was always enough."
He doesn't reply immediately.Just watching me, and for some reason, it makes me turn away.Because honestly, I don't know how to push harder.I never had to try.
Then the memory strikes me like a flash.A memory of a voice I have not thought of for a week.
That hotel hallway laugh.The scent of fruit and snow.Her scent.
And the way she said I was brilliant, like it was a fact, not a compliment.The way she talked about sport and Olympic dreams.
I clear my throat."Olympic season.We have stories to tell, people to inspire, right?"
