The gate comes at me like a fist.
I twist, barely make the gate, and somehow—somehow—I stay upright.
The crowd gasps. I hear it even through the wind.
I carve back into the fall line, but I've lost time. A lot of it. The rest of the run is just damage control, scraping together whatever speed I can find, trying to look like I meant to do that.
I don't.
When I cross the finish line, the clock confirms it: mediocre. Not last. Not close to first. Just... there.
I skid to a stop, chest heaving, legs burning. The cameras are already on me. I force a grin, wave at the crowd, and skate over to the team area.
Lukas gives me a clap on the shoulder when I leave the corral. "Looked wild out there."
"Yeah," I say, still catching my breath. "Tried a new line. Didn't stick."
One of the coaches nods, tight-lipped. "We'll talk about it later."
Translation:What the hell were you thinking?
I don't have an answer.
***
The mixed zone is a circus.
Microphones, cameras, reporters with their fake-concerned faces. I lean into it, because that's what I do. Grin wide, shrug it off, make them laugh so they don't ask the real questions.
"You almost lost it on that compression—what happened?"
"Honestly? I got a little too excited. Thought I'd try the shortcut. Turns out it's short for a reason." I laugh. They laugh. Problem solved.
"Are you worried about the Super-G globe heading into the next races?"
"Nah. Just warming up. Gotta keep the fans on their toes, right?"
More laughs. More cameras. I'm good at this. I've always been good at this.
But when I finally escape, when I'm alone at the fence with my skis propped against the mesh, staring out at the course, the jokes don't work anymore.
I know what happened out there.
I wasn't skiing. I wasforcingit.
Trying to buy speed with aggression. Trying to prove something that can't be proven by throwing myself at the mountain harder.
I grip the fence, knuckles white.
I'm skiing like a guy trying to buy something he can't afford.
The thought lands like a punch.
I shut it down. Shake my head. Grab my skis.
Tomorrow's another race. Another chance.
I'll fix it then.
