In the blink of an eye, the last four years arrived at their culmination: the 2026 Olympic Winter Games. Becoming an Olympian in Beijing was a great accomplishment, but like so many others it left me wanting more—to do it again. For the last four years I had the goal of improving my skills, of climbing the ranks, and of building my mental toughness, all to get back to that stage and perform. I knew it might not mean coming home with a medal, but the point was to be able to bring my best on the day that counted, whatever that best looked like. And suddenly there I was, ready to head to Bormio for the moment I had been working towards, but coming off five crappy downhill results in a row, two consecutive DNFs in super-G, and with my confidence in the gutter. Not exactly the buildup I pictured into the Games.
Yet I was there. I had qualified. That’s all that matters, right? The moment had arrived and I could either soak it in and enjoy it, or let the baggage of the latest races drag me down. Of course I chose the former, but it’s not exactly a switch you can just flip and feel happy. These were the thoughts swirling around in my head and hanging over me as we drove from the World Cup in Crans Montana to Bormio, five days before the opening ceremonies. I felt the excitement begin to build as we checked in, picked up our accreditations, and toured the hotel that would be our “Olympic village” for the next week. It’s hard not to get fired up when you find the giant Lululemon suitcase in your hotel room with your name on it. Opening it and seeing the Team Canada kit for the first time is always one of the most memorable parts of the Games. It was especially fun to see the excitement on the faces of my first-time Olympian teammates—including my brother, Riley. He and I were roommates for the week, which would have been nothing special if not for the realization that very few siblings get to experience an Olympic Games like that together. Our mom would be joining us in Bormio as well, seeing us race in person for the first time in years after handing off her caregiving duties to a team of friends at home.
The downhill training runs began three days before the opening ceremonies, as the Olympic downhill is almost always scheduled for the first day of the Games. As Murphy’s Law would have it, a 20cm blanket of fresh snow fell on the mountain the day before the first training run. The course crew was forced to work around the clock clearing off the fresh snow, but when we inspected the course the next morning there was much work left to be done. After doing some warm-up runs, I shared a great moment with some of the slip crew that was regrouping outside the mid-mountain lodge. I made a joke to one of the young guys there that the training must have been cancelled since they were all standing around instead of working on the course. In response, he told me how they had been working on the hill for 16 hours the day before, and how for a home Olympics they would do whatever it takes to get the job done. I told him I remembered that exact spirit from the volunteers at the Vancouver Games in my own backyard, and I thanked him for the passion they were bringing. We took some photos together, and for the rest of the week, every time I saw that guy he would share a few quick words of encouragement and a fist bump with me.
On the regular World Cup circuit, the priority is usually to run only two of three training runs. The Olympics is slightly different given the smaller nations who take part, and the organizers were determined to run all three training days to offer as much prep time as possible. The course conditions improved steadily each day, and it was interesting to note how much less tiring the Stelvio course felt in February compared to dark, icy December. Still, the downhill training days are long and mentally taxing, so a few of us Canadians decided to skip the third day and focus on a short, sharp super-G training session instead. I was still struggling a little bit to ski with full confidence, and it felt like the weight of wanting to perform was coming back down on my shoulders. I felt that a short training session without any pressure would be the perfect way to put my mind back on the enjoyment of the skiing. That was my goal for the downhill race morning as well; I put some music on in my earbuds and ripped around, hopping off rollers and having some fun with my warm-up runs. I knew I would ski my best if I put myself in a headspace to enjoy the course, and I think I did a good job of it. It felt like I skied the best I had all week in that race, and I crossed the line feeling pretty good about the effort. Then I saw the clock, showing +3.35 seconds, and my heart sank again.
As I took my gear off in the finish, I felt the weight of disappointment coming down on me again. I had fought to get myself into a good headspace, but after the string of poor downhill results this season it was impossible to ignore the sting. I felt crushed, but there was another race to prepare for in three days’ time. I knew I had to lean on the family and friends that we were so fortunate to have there with us. We joined the whole Canadian crew for dinner, clearing our heads with a nice steak and a couple of glasses of Italian wine. It felt like exactly what the doctor ordered and I could feel my motivation beginning to come back already. We took a day off before getting back into super-G training on the warm-up slope. My goal once again was to keep a simple technical focus, having some fun and avoiding tensing up by trying to push the intensity too much. The excitement built as we watched the team event, although it was frustrating to be sitting that one out as a team. I think that event has been a great addition to our sport and I really look forward to our nation being able to field a team.
The super-G race morning was warm and foggy. We inspected the course in low visibility, and already we could feel how the snow on the bottom part of the course was minimally frozen. The fog lifted, but the sun wasn’t improving the snow conditions either. With bib 27, I would be starting over an hour after bib 1, and I knew the course conditions wouldn’t be getting any better. It was sure to be one of those races that doesn’t feel good, but an OK result might still be possible if you really sent it. I came out of the gate with that in mind and did my best to ski loose and aggressive. I came down 1.76 seconds back, outside the top 20 and not where I wanted to be, but this time I had the feeling that I had definitely given my all and I could live with that. I was charging, trying to be as aerodynamic as possible, and it felt like I had at least given myself a chance on a day when the course was slowing down quite a bit. That’s all you can really ask of yourself in the end.
This time I made sure that as I took my gear off in the finish and my emotions settled, there was a beer in my shoe waiting for me. Satisfied or not, my second Olympic Games were over and I wanted to take a moment to celebrate that achievement in itself. I would have loved to stay an extra night and celebrate it with all the family and friends who came to watch, but with only a short time until our next World Cup the plan was to get home as soon as possible. Only a few hours after the race, we were packed up and on the road to Munich where we would fly out the next morning. A lot of people have asked why we got out of there so quickly rather than staying to experience more of the Games. The truth is, as fun as that would have been, I was also really looking forward to a short break at home after five weeks in Europe. We still have a good chunk of the season left, and I was looking forward to recharging at home before the final push. Not to mention the push for Finals—which I still need to qualify for.
I am now on my way back to Europe for the next World Cup stop in Garmisch-Partenkirchen, Germany. I have to say I definitely felt a bit of the post-Games energy slump over this past week, but I’m confident it will come back as we get into training again. It feels like there is a lot to contemplate after a milestone like that, but for now the focus has to stay on what’s ahead. I watched the Springsteen movie on the flight home, and there was a quote that stuck with me: “Where you come from is gone, and where you thought you were going was never there. Nothing outside of you can give you any place. In yourself right now is the only place you’ve got.” It feels relevant right now.
This post has been a bit longer than usual, which I think emphasizes how much really happens internally during an intense Olympic week. Thanks for following along, and as always feel free to leave a comment below.
“Beautifully written as always. You are inspiring so many people—old and young, skiers and non-skiers alike. Just know that your family is so proud of the person you are, regardless of the outcomes. We love you! 💜”