Olympic Conquest

Cory - Closing In

I made it through my surgery without any complications. Doctors and therapists and my parents and coaches swirl around me saying that if I put in the hard work, I should be able to ski again - which is the last thing on my mind. All I can think about is how to get back to Lainey. I commit to a strenuous recovery program in the hopes of seeing her sooner than later.

"May I come in?"

I look over at my hospital-room door and it's Karen, my sports psychologist. I let out a long sigh. "I don't have much choice, do I? I'm a bit trapped at the moment."

"That's how I like it – chasing after my patients who don't want to see me can be exhausting."

"I have no doubt you have many patients who don't want to see you."

"I'm going to start taking it personally."

"Whatever you need to do to leave me alone."

"Do you mind if I sit down?"

I don't respond. She sits and takes out a small journal and a pen.

"I hear your surgery went well."

"We'll see soon enough."

"Are you looking forward to walking again?"

"Yes, walking would be nice. I think anyone would agree on that, don't you?"

"How about skiing? What are your feelings about it?"

"Here we go. Is this when you try to figure out how to get me to love skiing again? Oh I know, you want me to love myself again, right?" I wrap my arms around my chest, giving myself a hug.

"You don't love yourself?"

"That's not what I said."

She writes something down in her journal and looks back up at me.

"So then you love skiing?"

"I'm good at it."

"Tell me about the best run you've ever had."

"I don't really have a favorite. If I go all in and I win then it's a good run."

"Alright, then tell me about a race that you won."

"Okay, but you better get your pen ready because it's going to shock you."

She raises her pen and shakes it for me. "The pen and I are ready."

"I'd say winning my first Olympic gold medal was pretty special."

She smiles. "You're right, that does not shock me. Can you tell me how you felt during that race?"

"Strong. At the top of my game. I was pushing my limits but always felt in control. It helped that my brother was there to press me to go faster. He always wanted to go faster."

She stops writing and looks up at me.

"I'm very sorry about what happened to your brother."

"Me too."

"Do you blame yourself for his death?"

"Wow, you jump right in, don't you?" I shift around, uncomfortable.

"I don't know how long you will remain trapped so I go all in."

"Yes, I blame myself," I whisper.

"Why?"

"Oh I don't know. Probably because I was pressing him to go faster that day and he's the one who crashed and not me."

"Was he pressing you to go faster too?"