Chapter 5
Diligent Ants and Nosy Sponsors
Playlist:
DJ Ötzi: Live Is Life
Lily James: Andante, Andante
Beaver Creek, USA, November 24
Thomas
The course inspection's underway.
I close my eyes to trace the line I've chosen.
I'm used to winning Super-Gs.And Birds of Prey?It's one of the best.I love it here in Beaver Creek.
It's not just the layout.It's the rhythm.The upper section flows like it was built for skiers who think while they fly.Clean, aggressive lines, no need for recklessness.If you know what you're doing, it can look effortless.And that's always the goal.
I push off and let the skis run, edges loose, just enough to feel what kind of mood the snow's in today.Early December.Cold enough to harden in the overnight freeze.The surface has that dry, chalky bite you only get in North America.Grippy, but punishing if your wax isn't dialed.Most techs hate it.Roman adjusts.Doesn't even blink.
The snow rasps under the side-slip, dry sound, like sand on glass.
There's a slight compression coming up.Looks like nothing now.At speed, it kicks.I mark it.Three turns later, it rolls into that long left-footed traverse where time disappears if you're late on the entry.Everyone knows it.Only the ones who win remember it.
Wind worries the fence; the netting hums left to right.
Lukas is ahead, side-slipping the pitch like he's still waking up.He stops at the traverse and calls back over his shoulder.
He rubs his knee once, casual as a habit."If you're ahead of me here today, I'll buy you a beer."I grin."You'd better start saving."
Martin laughs behind me."Don't bait him.He's already pretending to be humble."
He tips his chin like there's a camera on us."Save the humility for the mix zone."
We group up near the netting—me, Lukas, Martin, Niko.Quiet now.Just watching.Calculating.
Niko breaks the silence."Wind'll hit just above the traverse.You'll feel it push left."
Martin nods."And the surface glosses out below the breakover.If they don't reset, it'll be blown apart by the end."
We always talk like this.Clipped.Clean.No fluff.Inspection isn't for bonding.It's for building the run so precisely in your head that your body doesn't have to guess.
Roman waits near the coaches' fence, arms crossed outside the netting.No clipboard.No goggles.Just watching.
I skate over.He doesn't speak right away.Then, just: "You happy with this pair?"
I nod."Feels right."
