Buckle up, it’s January. It may only be a few weeks since my last post, but these weeks feel as though they’ve been jam-packed with racing action. It’s the month of the classics; Wengen, Kitzbuhel, only the first half of a big racing block leading into the Games. I faced some challenges over the classic race weeks, but there were also bright spots that are keeping me motivated and pushing for more.
We landed in Europe a week ahead of the Wengen downhill training runs. It always helps to have a short training block following the New Year’s break to get back into the rhythm, and so that was the plan. We spent four days in Watles, Italy, on a training slope full of terrain and sharp rolls. It was a fun place to get going again, although I was limiting my training volume after picking up a nasty cold shortly after leaving home. At this point in the season, my training is usually more focused on executing the first run of each day anyway, practicing bringing race intensity right away. I was feeling really good on my skis and looking to bring that confidence into the Wengen week. After four days of skiing, we traveled to Lauterbrunnen, where we made the annual hectic trip up the mountainside to Wengen, loading all our team gear on and off the train. Spin bikes, weights, duffel bags, backpacks, equipment boxes, ski bags—it’s a team effort to get it all up there.
We had two perfect bluebird days for the downhill training runs, and a course that was prepared very nicely with water injection. I felt solid in both trainings, putting down a few very encouraging sector times, although struggling in others. As always, it would come down to race day to put it all together. First came the super G race, in which I failed to reach the finish line last season. The course set was fast and open, so I prepared to charge it and build momentum from some of my previous super G results this season. We had bluebird skies until just a couple of bibs before me, when suddenly some clouds rolled in and the light went very flat. I brushed it off and stuck to my plan of setting the tone with high intensity right out of the start gate. Then, a few turns into the course, as I landed off the roller into Canadian Corner, I struggled to see the aggressive compression by the gate and was caught on my heels when I hit it. I was sucked into a deep squat and spun around onto my back. I watched the wall of red netting come at me but managed to dig in my edges and stand up just before being swallowed by the B-nets. I gave a bow to the crowd, but was furious about the DNF as I made my way down to the finish. It was such a rookie mistake, and to make matters worse, I could feel a bruise developing inside my boot from my leg being wrenched against the back of it. It hurt to walk, but all I could think about was whether I would be able to race the next day.
I made the decision to feel it out in the morning, doing a couple warm-up runs to see if I would be able to push on the front of my boot. Despite the intense pain when walking, somehow it wasn’t so bad while skiing, so I committed to sucking it up for the race. The wind was howling at the top of the mountain on downhill race day, forcing us to move the start nearly halfway down the course. The shortened course added to my confidence in being able to handle the pain at least. I did my best to charge again, but in the end I was way off the pace. It was deflating to feel like I put so much into starting that race only to come up short in a third consecutive downhill. I was choked, but with Kitzbuhel on the horizon, I had to turn my attention to healing my bruised shin as fast as possible.
Kitzbuhel will forever be a special place for our team following last year’s performance, and we could all feel an excitement building as we rolled in to the legendary ski town. I spent plenty of time with our physio and in the pool to reduce the swelling in my shin, and thankfully it seemed to be improving quickly. The course this year was in mint condition, with very grippy ice the whole way down. It’s always going to be a gnarly course, although this year may have been a slightly “nicer” version. For me, the week panned out in an eerily similar fashion to the Wengen week. It began with a lot of positive moments and fast sectors in training, and once again we would be racing super G before the downhill. I had a bit of a slow start in the super G race, but was heading in the right direction when I put down the fastest sector 4 time of the day. Then, in a split second, it was over. I was coming down the final pitch at roughly 140kph when my edge caught on a bump, pulled my ski away from me, and folded me at the waist as I hit the compression at the bottom of the pitch. I narrowly avoided straddling the next gate—which would have been disastrous at that speed—but I missed the next gate as I struggled to stay on my feet. Frustration at missing another result ate away at me, but once again I had a race to prepare for the next day. I was determined not to let that scare get in my head, and in the end I think I did a good job bringing a strong approach in the downhill. To be honest, I think I skied the best I had all week, but it was only good enough for 29th place. I lost a lot of time in a couple key sectors even though I made no noticeable mistakes, which is always hard to wrap my head around. I wanted to analyze it and figure out where the time went, but I’m also conscious of how that can just add to overthinking. Sometimes it’s best to simply take the positives and try to build the confidence from those.
We left Kitzbuhel with mixed feelings as a team and headed for the Italian coast. With a short break before the next downhill race in Crans Montana, our goal was to get some quality recovery time by the waterside in the town of Rapallo. It felt great to breathe in the humid air as we approached and rolled down the van windows, and I could feel it beginning to soothe my lingering cough already. There was one more thing looming over us as we settled into Rapallo: the Olympic team announcement. By now you have likely seen that all five men’s speed athletes in our group made the team. It’s an incredible honour to have been selected for my second Olympics, and especially to be going alongside my brother. I felt a mix of emotions as I digested that incredible news after having just spent a couple of weeks in frustration and dissatisfaction with my racing performances. It’s going to be a quick turnaround between the Crans Montana races and the first downhill training runs of the Games, so no time to dwell on the last weeks. We have returned to the Swiss Alps from Rapallo and now aim to build through the next two weeks toward the peak of the season. There’s no doubt they will be just as action-packed as the last weeks, and I look forward to catching you up afterward. For now, I want to say a heartfelt thank-you to everyone who has supported me in getting here. To my sponsors, the donors who helped with my team fees, my home ski community, and everyone who has been reading this to follow along: I will wear the maple leaf proudly, because I wouldn’t be here without you.
Thanks for reading, and as always feel free to leave a comment.