The Olympic Village is a madhouse. Lots of competitions today and the energy is running high. Athletes are on edge, wondering if they will win gold today. I feel the same edginess as I head to my first competition of the Games.
Before I can even get to the top of the mountain, I am bombarded by the media. Now that I'm more accessible to them and answering their questions, they can't seem to get enough.
"Cory?! Are you nervous? Do you think you have a chance against your younger competitors? Are you worried about your knee? Do you think you can win the gold?"
"Do I think I can win the gold? Good question. I guess we will find out very soon, won't we?" I smile and continue to the top of the run. I feel energetic and anxious for the competition to begin.
I get to the top and it's foggy – I can only see a few feet down the course. I hope it clears up by the time I make my run otherwise I will lose valuable time trying to see through the pea soup conditions.
My coaches greet me as I arrive. "How are you feeling Cory?"
"Good, I feel good. I could use some water." One of the coaches grabs me a bottle. I drink it down in one gulp.
"We've got some tough weather this morning. The fog is supposed to get worse, not better."
"And I'm towards the end of the line up, right?"
"Dead last. And probably when the fog will be the worst."
Those who ski first will have the advantage of less fog. I'll have to trust my body to remember the lines of the course.
As the competition progresses, the fog settles in and the times get longer and longer. My teammate John – ironically the one I helped mentor during the last Olympics and my closest friend on the team – was one of the first to ski and has the fastest run thus far. Lucky bastard.
I try to tune out all distractions and run the course through my mind over and over. I close my eyes and do like I always do – visualize every turn. Jeremy warns me that the officials may halt the race if the weather gets any worse. That's the last thing I want as waiting can be seriously draining both mentally and physically.
The competition continues and there are many stops and restarts as the weather plays havoc on the race. Eventually, my turn comes and the conditions are terrible. The officials want to stop the race again but they're concerned that I am the only one left and I'm the favorite. It could either be a major advantage or disadvantage for me. The problem is that it looks like the weather is only going to get worse, not better. If they cancel the race now, I may not be able to go again until tomorrow. We all stand around waiting for someone to make a final call.
And that's when there is a small lift in the fog. The officials give the thumbs up for me to do my run. Everyone races into position. I step up into the starting gate. It's still hard to see much more than few feet in front of me. To beat John, who still has the best time, I will have to rely entirely on my memory and hope I don't find any obstacles in my path.
Because I'm the last skier, it's quiet at the top of the mountain – exactly how I like it. I visualize the entire course again. I need to be concerned about the chicane. It's a sharp turn and an easy spot for my ski to break loose from my tuck. The starting bell goes off and I burst out of the gate. I know the first third of the course is extremely steep and it will be rough from all the previous skiers. I settle into my tuck and I enter the wall of fog. I'm blanketed by the misty air, which envelops me in eerie silence. All I can hear are my skis cutting through the snow. This run is truly between myself and the mountain. My body falls in line with the course and I rely on the GPS in my brain.
I know the chicane is coming up. I prepare for the turn but it appears before I'm ready. I do my best to hold on to my tuck but the g-forces are taking me wider than I want to go. I slip sideways a bit and right myself as quickly as I can. I'll have to make up some time somewhere. I get through the tight turn and decide I need to go for broke. I tuck down as tight as I can go and focus on following the straightest line down the mountain. My speed picks up. It has started to snow at this point and I'm flying blind. It may seem reckless but my body feels one with this course. I'm letting it do its job.
Even though I can't see it, I must be getting near the bottom. I know there's going to be a hill coming up – I need to fly through it but not get too much air as that can slow me down. I worry that I won't time it right. If I'm not prepared for it, I could lose my balance. I try to visualize every centimeter of the course. According to my projections, I need to tuck down now. I prepare myself and there she is. I hit the hill perfectly and I fly. I come down fast and smooth and tuck in for the finish line.
As I cross the line, I can now see and hear the crowd. They're screaming at the top of their lungs. I come to a stop and I see my time. I'm the fastest skier by an entire second. That's an eternity in downhill skiing. I smile and the first person with whom I want to share my joy isn't here. I look around for her and I remember that she is marrying someone else. The screams from the crowd drown out the voices in my head.
"Congrats Cory! Looks like you're back!" John gives a big slap on the back.
"Thanks John. Sorry I took the gold from you."
"Ah, I'm just happy you're back and you made it down in those conditions in one piece. I can't always win. It wouldn't be fair to you." We both laugh and put our arms up in victory. We head to the media line.
"Cory! Cory! How does it feel to come back and win gold in the downhill?"
I catch my breath. I suddenly feel a rise of emotion. I know I'm about to lose it, right here in front of all these inquiring minds and cameras. I try to regain my composure.
"Hi Ann, it felt really good. Really good. The mountain was just perfect," my voice cracks.
"Do you know what's next for you after this Olympics?"
"I've been asked to join the U.S. Ski Team coaching staff."
"Is that what you want?"
"I took some advice from a friend a couple of months ago and I really thought about what I want, and yes, I want to pass on what I've learned to the next generation of Olympic-bound skiers."
"You've come a long way in the last four years. Do you think your brother would be proud?"
That does it. I fucking lose it. I can't even speak. Years of pent up emotion appear on my face. I have to fight hard to keep from sobbing. I grab onto the rope separating me from the reporter for support. I can see the surprise in the reporter's eyes. She's even tearing up. I manage a soft yes and turn away. I tear off one of my gloves to wipe my eyes.
And that's when I see Lainey standing in front of me, waiting for me. I stand in shock, wondering if I'm dreaming. She's crying too. I motion to let her through. She runs up to me. All of the journalists crowd around us.
"Cory-"
Before she can say another word, I take her in my arms. She whispers, "Cory, I'm so sorry. For everything."
I start to uncontrollably sob. My body spasms as all of the emotions of losing Lainey, losing my brother and winning the downhill gold converge.
"Cory, can you ever forgive me? I love you so much." I squeeze her tighter.
The reporters are swarming us now – pushing in to try to record what we're saying.
"What about your fiancé?" I ask.
"I was never engaged. I've never stopped loving you."
I pull away and look into Lainey's eyes. I can see her love for me.
"Please say you forgive me."
"Lainey, I can't believe this. I thought you were marrying someone else." I try to process what is happening – the weeks of sorrow over losing her. Only she's standing here now professing her love for me. My heart takes over and I finally say, "I've always been here, waiting for you. I would have waited forever if I had to."
"I think we've waited long enough, don't you?" We both smile in agreement.
I remove my skis from my boots and lean in real close to Lainey and whisper, "How about another I do?"
"What are you talking about?"
I get down on one knee. The reporters go nuts. They push right up against us.
"Lainey, I don't want to live another second without you. Will you marry me?"
Now Lainey starts crying and she has a hard time speaking. I stand up and say softly, "what do you say? Will you be my wife?"
She nods and says, "yes." The reporters and the crowd roar with support. I pick her up and kiss her with all my love. This is truly the happiest day of my life. Another surge of applause and screams are heard.
"Cory! Lainey! Tell us your plans for the future."
I break from our embrace and grab the nearest microphone. "My plan is to be the best husband to this remarkable woman. I don't know how I got so lucky but I'm going with it." The crowd lets out a resounding "Aw."
"Lainey?" The reporters lean in for her comment.
"I support that goal." Everyone laughs.
"Cory, how does it feel to win gold and your future wife – all in the same day?"
I pull Lainey next to me. "Like I've won gold for the rest of my life."