Page 37 of Mountain Trial

In the end he made it up on the slopes by nine thirty. There were fewer people up here today―probably because it was a bitch of a day. Cold and windy and harsh.

The cold didn’t bother Luc in the least. Cold was the weather he knew best. Wind, however was a different matter. The strong wind gusts, which would pose a challenge to non-disabled snowboarders, were ten times as difficult to manage from a sit ski.

“Shitty day, huh,” Coach said behind him.

“You should have warned me. I might have chosen to spend it in bed,” Luc quipped.

“Told you he’d be in a good mood, Coach,” Scott said, wheeling himself up behind him.

“Come on, head to the lift, let’s warm up a bit.”

“Please stop saying the word warm,” a third athlete said, from behind him.

They did a couple easy runs, ostensibly to warm up but also to get a feel for the wind―if it felt windy on the slopes, it’d feel much worse while jumping.

Coach looked down at his phone, frowning.

“They’re not cancelling,” he grumbled.

Luc wondered if, in this weather, he’d be able to control his body―and the twenty pounds of metal attached to his bottom half. Sit-skiing left him a lot less margin for error than snowboarding ever had.

He had choices available to him. He could go in gently, just a nice, easy jump with a smooth landing, or he could go strong, as he’d originally planned. As per the rules of the event, the score from today’s jump would be added to the score from yesterday’s jump. There was no guarantee that a strong jump today would make him a winner of the overall competition―but a weak jump had a guaranteed outcome.

An hour later, sitting by the starting gate with his outrigger poles ready in his hand, he was still deciding which way to go.

He looked down at all the people who’d braved the cold and gathered below to watch. This was his chance to help put adaptive skiing on the map, to show that it could be as exciting a sport as what Helmet and all the other non-disabled competitors would be doing later than afternoon.

But he’d be lying also if he didn’t admit to the fact that he was more cautious than he used to be. He’d learned his lesson and couldn’t afford any further injuries.

He turned to look at the electronic panel, which highlighted key metrics―ignored all of them except the one on the lower left.

Wind speed 35 km/hr.

Not as bad as I expected.

There were still two people ahead of him. The first one was the Korean athlete he’d met his first day in town―Jong Su, he’d learned his name was. Luc held his breath as Jong Su took off. The man’s balance was affected by the wind, but he managed to compensate by using his arms, and landed safely. While solid, the jump likely wouldn’t win Jong Su any medals today.

Luc confirmed in his mind what he’d already known in his heart: he was going to go in strong, and attempt the jump he’d been training for all these months.

When it was his turn, Luc moved into place. He breathed in through his nose―a slow, deep inhale, followed by a slow exhale. Then again. He felt the tension exit his body, leaving him calm and focused.

As the bell chimed, Luc propelled himself forward. He tested the edge of his skis, careful not to brake as he approached the ramp. He let himself fly, gaining ten, twenty feet―higher and higher, he went, orienting his body sideways to complete the first spin. He passed the original spot and kept going, perfectly positioned to complete a Cork 540.

As he completed the last spin, Luc saw the ground come up to meet him. It was close, much closer than he would have expected―or hoped―to see it. The wind had caused him to lose both height and speed during his spins.

The world around him went on slow motion. He resisted the impulse to start flailing his arms, knowing that would only result in him crashing head first. Instead, Luc dropped his lead shoulder and leaned further into the spin.

He felt his body right himself, but not quickly enough. The ground was still coming up faster and faster.

Too late.

Too slow.

You’re not going to make it.

Luc dove his chin into his chest in an attempt to protect his neck from the impact.

Miraculously, he managed to complete the spin and landed on the edge of his ski―the angle was all wrong, and Luc wasn’t strong enough to right himself from that position, but the ski absorbed enough of his speed and momentum so that, when he landed on his side an instant later, he knew he was going to be okay.