We’re back in Val Gardena this week, the same place that last year I was able to score my first World Cup downhill points. However, it was simultaneously the place where I tomahawked across the finish line to score said points after catching an edge on the landing of the final jump. I was fortunate to not have any serious injuries other than a shoulder that would bug me for the next few months, but it was the same kind of crash that took me out for two full seasons with my knee in 2021.
Whenever I go to school visits or to talk with clubs, there are always questions about how we are able to manage the fear that comes as an inherent part of our job. This week serves as a good reminder of that, because it took more intentionality that usual to push through when we arrived back here for the first run. During that initial training run, you’re doing your best to push the memory to the back of your mind, but it’s always somewhere lurking, knowing that the last time you raced this mountain you ended up upside down and almost broken by the bottom of the course. And so the entire first day there’s an extra sense of tension in your whole body, while at the same time being rationally aware that you’re totally prepared to keep yourself safe and that once the first run is out of the way, it likely won’t be an issue anymore.
That’s generally the experience on days like these, but as for how to actually manage that fear and nervousness, there’s some different things that seem to work well for me. I think firstly everyone racing WC downhill is pretty open about acknowledging their fears, and this creates somewhat of an understanding community where you don’t feel like you’re the only one nervous about doing something. On the other hand, just about everyone has a healthy amount of nerves on the first training run of every track. So knowing that you’re not alone in this feeling is hugely comforting. People always ask if we just don’t get nervous, but in reality, we’re just used to the process of managing it more frequently (and hopefully more effectively) than most.
There’s two concrete steps that I rely on to make this happen. One is my breathing. I don’t typically notice this until I’m close to standing in that start gate, but at places like Kitzbuehel or Bormio, your heart rate seems to be about 140 when you’re standing still up top. To combat this, I need to be intentional with my breathing, slowing down the exhales and trying to release as much tension as I can from my body. This tension is what’s going to hold me back from being able to perform when I need to, both keeping me safe and making me fast. The other thing I intentionally focus on is to trust the work that I and my team have put in to get me ready for this moment. I think back and know that my coaches have given me the best possible training, that my technician has given me the best possible skis, and that I’ve worked as hard as I possibly could to be ready for anything once I’m on track. By remembering how much has gone into being ready to give your all on course, you’re able to trust that this work will give you speed and keep you safe.
Past that though, whatever happens happens and that’s the thrill of the sport. Just one more aspect of what makes skiing such a challenge and an adventure. Hopefully my thoughts here can help satisfy some curiosity for all the people that are wondering this same question when watching downhill races, and maybe give some useful tips to try for any younger racers out there going through the same thing every now and then. Remember, if it were easy, it would be boring. So why not seek out challenges like this.


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