Jit's Journal: My World Cup debut

The final part of December was brought to a close with a tough series of races in Europe. Though the status of the snow conditions in Europe was still in question before we left, I think my teammates and I were ready to get out of Colorado and make our way across the pond. As for me, I was excited to get going to Europe. Why? I was finally getting a chance to race my first World Cup.
      For me, this particular trip to Europe taught me two things: First, it was a humbling experience, and second, it reaffirmed how much I want to do this sport at the highest level.
    Sometimes I lose a little faith in what I’m doing, so it’s always nice to have something to remind me why I do what it is I do.
THE FINAL PART of December was brought to a close with a tough series of races in Europe. Though the status of the snow conditions in Europe was still in question before we left, I think my teammates and I were ready to get out of Colorado and make our way across the pond. As for me, I was excited to get going to Europe. Why? I was finally getting a chance to race my first World Cup.
    For me, this particular trip to Europe taught me two things: First, it was a humbling experience, and second, it reaffirmed how much I want to do this sport at the highest level. Sometimes I lose a little faith in what I’m doing, so it’s always nice to have something to remind me why I do what it is I do. Any athlete who tells you they have never questioned themselves at one point or another in their career is full of it; it’s a natural thing. When I first arrived in Europe I was shocked to see with my own eyes just how little snow the region really had, but as we drove higher into the mountains I began to see that things could definitely work out. Luckily for us, the temperatures had dropped upon our arrival and some snow was definitely on its way.
    We started things off with a Europa Cup GS in St. Vigil, Italy. Let’s just say it was a rough day all around for the Americans. The conditions were tough, and two thirds of the group was still recovering from food poisoning. Nothing says welcome to Europe like the inability to stray farther than five feet from the nearest bathroom or balcony, but let’s skip those details. I was just glad to be an observer and not a partaker. We collectively struggled at St. Vigil but it was not an easy race. When guys who race World Cup can’t make the flip [second run], you know it’s tough. However, I really think our minds were somewhere else that day. I know mine was secretly gearing up for Alta Badia.
    When I was told that I would get to race Alta Badia as my first World Cup I tried to hide the grin that went from ear to ear, but I was hopeless. So I just walked around with a smile on my face, which is something I usually reserve for the times that Paul McDonald is telling stories at the dinner table. Alta Badia happens to be one of the top two GS courses in the world; not only in difficulty, but in grandeur. The “Grand Risa,” as it is known, is technically difficult, steep and long. The night before the race was interesting, to say the least. You would think that I would be unable to sleep, but in fact I was out cold all night. Then 4 in the morning came around and I was wide awake staring at the ceiling. I pretty much knew that I was not going back to sleep, so I got up and tried to pass the time by listening to some music and looking out my window where I could see the finish corral.
    Breakfast was quiet and I seemed to be packed and ready for action way too soon. I couldn’t help it, I was excited! The pre-race waiting is always the hardest thing for me. I just want to get out there and get it over with. Finally, we made our way to the hill for warm-up and inspection. Thank goodness! At first, things felt kind of weird for me when I was finally clicking into my skis and tightening my boots. You have to understand that this was something I’d been dreaming about since I was about 5 years old and here I was living it. And although this was just another rung in the ladder of my progression as an athlete on the U.S. team, I couldn’t help but reflect on what I had to go through just to make it this far.
    Putting that aside, it was time to clear my head and prepare for not only my first World Cup, but a tough one at that. Inspection found me wearing my headphones and focusing on everything I could. The grin was still evident on my face and I knew I was one lucky SOB to be racing this thing. My favorite part of inspection came when I slipped down to one of our coaches, Forrest Carey. Having been on the U.S. team for many years, I feel like Forrest knows exactly what’s running through my mind when I stop by to see him. He too has a grin from ear to ear and let’s me know it’s time fire it up. Forrest has the “put me in coach” attitude, and if given the opportunity, I think he would jump at the chance to put one down the course. By the time I get to the finish, the crowd is filling the stands and I am mentally pumped and ready to tackle the race.
    Back at the top of mountain I took one final run and settled into the top lodge with the rest of athletes as the race got under way. I watched the first racers on the television in the lodge until they got to a certain bib number and it was time for me to head down to the start to get warmed up. At the start it was controlled chaos; an organized rush to get man and equipment ready to go.
    I started 59, one position later than I had started in the Europa Cup in St. Vigil. I wasn’t kidding when I said Europa Cups are tough. I really don’t remember much of my time at the start because before I knew it I was standing in the start shack watching teammate Warner Nickerson kick out of the gate. I wasn’t nervous, but I was definitely excited. In a World Cup, you have no choice but to charge as hard as you can to make it into the flip 30, especially from the back. I was ready. I exploded out of the gate and onto the course with as much fire as could muster. It was an amazing feeling! The course was challenging and made you work for everything. It never let up the whole way down and tested the limits of my physical conditioning. I made some rookie mistakes along the way and I forgot about some of the technical things I had been focusing on in my skiing that make me fast. I think I was so caught up in the moment and the idea of making it down this beast of a hill that I forgot about my skiing.
    At the bottom of the hill comes the one and only flat. I remembered [U.S. coach] Mike Morin describing how much pain I was going to be in “if” I reached this point in the course. He wasn’t lying. I was completely exhausted. And yet here I was crossing the finish line. I slid to a stop amidst the flashes and yelling of the crowds and looked up to see where I ended up. I finished 42nd at the time (I eventually ended up 44th on the run) and I shook my head, not so much in disappointment but in disbelief that all this really just happened. When I finally left the finish corral to go back to the hotel I got swarmed by hundreds of little kids and people wanting autographs and photos. Why they wanted one from me I had no idea, but I was caught up in the moment and enjoyed the experience. I may have ended up 44th that day, but the kids made me feel like a rock star and I was OK with that.
    Even though I did another World Cup GS at Hinterstoder [Austria] shortly after Alta Badia, the memories I take from racing the “Grand Risa” will always be special to me. It cer
tainly got me motivated. Maybe it was watching Ted [Ligety] come through the finish line on the second run to the deafening roar of the crowd that got me to thinking: I want to do that!

    -Jit