The 1997 season saw me in events across Europe and Japan. I entered the World Championships
on the future Olympic hill of Iizuna Kogan outside Nagano. All the best aerialists
were there, like me, trying to rehearse for the Olympics one year away. I finished
twelfth. Even though I wasn't fully recovered, I was shocked to realize that I would
not have been able to win the event,
even jumping at my best!
Aerials are scored by adding the judges' scores and multiplying the total by the
degree of the jump's difficulty ("d.d."). It dawned on me that I would have to increase
my difficulty as well as my proficiency, if I was going to get scores high enough
to win gold.
I returned to Park City and began training with a renewed sense of urgency. I accelerated
my workout schedule, adding more strength training, running and biking, more water
ramping (more than 30 jumps per day), added flips and twists, honing my skills and
enhancing my precision. During bad weather, when the rest of the team decided to
take a day or two off, or do easier tricks, I trained my toughest jumps in swirling
wind and falling snow, thinking,
the Olympics Games might occur on a day like this.
I should be ready, just in case.
By the time the Olympic Winter Games began in Nagano, I had added a triple somersault
and a "Full-Double Full" to my repertoire (raising my total degree of difficulty
from 6.05 to 7.05), and overheard someone say that, "Nikki Stone is going to win
this one." I recalled the lesson I learned in Lillehammer.
My first jump in the semis was the layout full twisting somersault followed by a
double twisting somersault. Sadly, that jump was less than stellar. My hands touched
down on the landing (a big deduction), and I finished the first rotation in twelfth
place. Eric Bergoust (America's other aerial champion) refuses to wear gloves in
competition as an added incentive to never touch the snow.
My second jump (the triple) was much better, and this time I landed well and my
score moved me into fourth place. I had qualified to compete for the medal!
On the morning of the finals, the winds became strong and unpredictable. I was fourth-to-last
in the order, followed by the favorites, including the top qualifier, Xu Nannan
from China. Her jumps were as difficult as mine, and she always did them well.
In my sport, skiers have the option to "ski out" (refuse the jump) at the bottom
of the in-run, if they feel their speed isn't right for whatever reason. The two
skiers in line before me both "skied out" on their way to the jump.
They wanted to
wait for better conditions.
My turn. By breathing quickly to calm my nerves, I relaxed a bit and looked down
the ramp to the kicker at the midpoint of the hill and the capacity crowd just beyond.
I couldn't see the landing area, but I'd worry about the landing
after executing
the jump. The winds were howling, but I was focused on Coach Wayne, standing alongside
the jump sending me the "all clear" signal.
By taking each challenge one at a time, I was ready. With the wind swirling all
around, I was confident in my ability under these conditions, rewarded for my decision
to train hard in inclement weather.
I felt no pain, heard no sound, aware only of my form. I wrapped my arms around my
body, twisting like the gymnast I had once been
I decided to take a small side-step
down the mountain. Remember, this was
the jump I missed in the semis with too much rotation. I felt it would be easier
to pull my knees into a tuck if needed, than to slow the rotation more than my second
somersault might allow. Once again I took that leap of faith.
Gathering speed down the in-run, I hit the flat going 39 m.p.h. and quickly locked
my body into position, barreling toward the wall. I hit the kicker and was catapulted
into the air. I felt no pain, heard no sound, aware only of my form and motion.
My legs went up and over, and at the top of the arc, I wrapped my arms around my
body, twisting like the gymnast I had once been.