A slogan from a No Fear t-shirt keeps running through my mind, “The Older I get the Faster I was.” Okay, I’ll admit it. I’ve watched some races, World Cups and NorAms, and thought I could still be in there. I neglected to remember that I haven’t trained, haven’t raced a World Cup since 2002, haven’t won a World Cup since 2000, haven’t raced a NorAm since 2004, so four years later who do I think I am? Is this a case of “The Older I get the Faster I was?”

My nerves are starting to wake up. After thirty years of ski racing the pattern is still the same. I rarely need to set an alarm because I’m usually up before it rings. This morning, I woke at 4:20, though stayed in bed until 5:30. Nerves. It’s not just because this is my first race in four years. I get them all the time—at the fundraising races, the corporate challenges, the celebrity events (I do my best to play the part of a celebrity occasionally). People are surprised that I get nervous for those events. I get nervous running a Nastar course with my friends and I hope that never changes. If the nerves leave there won’t be any reason to race because it doesn’t matter. And now it still matters. I love that natural chemical high.

Just the thrill of racing is part of the reason that I decided to come to this race. Another part is that I feel like I’m skiing pretty well and there is really only one way to find out if that’s the case—get into the starting gate. The third part is that the coach here at Winter Park said that the field wouldn’t be very deep since a lot of the US Team skiers were going straight from the World Cups to the US Nationals in Idaho, leaving the door open for people like me to make some money. That’s the third reason that I showed up—to try to make some money.

Racing for money never used to feel right. I’d started ski racing at six and would do it for free, but when I first started on the US Disabled Ski Team, ski racing became my job and it didn’t pay too well. Most years I made less than $20,000 in sponsorship, but then there was prize money. Approaching the first event where I thought I had a chance to finish in the cash, I couldn’t sleep. It was $800 to win each race and three races for the weekend. $2,400 would keep me in sushi for a long time, but it posed a dilemma because I wanted the sport and my pursuit of the top spot in the world to be pure. As I lay in bed unable to sleep, I made a pact with myself. I would give away 10% of whatever prize money I made.

That weekend in Park City back in 1993 I beat Jim Martinson for the first time. Along with Dave Kiley, Jim was the fastest monoskier in the world. Dave had had better results at the Paralympics in Tignes, France in 1992, but when Jim was on, he was the fastest. I beat him that weekend. I also won $2,400 hundred dollars. Usually, I give my money to a charity, but that first time I sent my brother a nice birthday present. He was in college and running short on funds.

This weekend, I’ve decided that if I win any money I will donate 10% to our fund for wheelchairs in Tanzania. One of the main initiatives for the climb is to provide opportunity. Ten percent of what I make this weekend starts to make that opportunity a reality. It won’t be much, even if I win, but I’m happy to know that my money will be the very first.

I thought that this morning was qualifying for the actual race. It turns out there is no serious racing until Sunday, when we will do both qualifying and the finals. I hoped to have some news to report, or at least an idea of where I stand at the moment, but no such luck. I will try to let you know how it goes on Sunday, but probably won’t be able to report until Monday morning. I have a seven and a half hour return drive after the race on Sunday. We’ll see if I have any speed or just memories.