In the summer of 91, the Olympic team was going to be decided by the speed skiing committee of the US Ski Team in Park City, UT.  Jimbo Morgan, Mark Haynes and I decided to drive all night to go to the meeting to plead our case. I got pulled over around 90mph, didn’t have my ID and had an outstanding traffic ticket in Nevada. I got handcuffed, put in the back of the patrol car, and unfortunately, because the overnight drunk tank was full, they had to book me into a cell. I wore orange. I was the clean cut one of the three of us. Jimbo and Haynes, laughing at me on the other side of the glass, talking to each other on the phone. I called my parents and they sent Western Union money to a casino. The boys picked it up and bailed me out. We continued on at 90mph but missed the meeting. The Olympic Team was selected and Jimbo and I made the team.  In my 8th race of my professional career, I won the

Bronze Medal, surpassing the legendary CJ Mueller as America’s Fastest Skier. 

 

I remember that race vividly. I still didn’t know what I was doing but I learned from Guy DallaRiva, our aerodynamic advisor, to keep pressing forward with my hands throughout the run to elongate my aerodynamic profile. With this advice, I started winning training runs. And put myself in medal contention. 

 

The day of the finals was extremely emotional because I watched a fellow speed skier and training partner die while free skiing. I realized how easily it could have been me who hit the snowcat head on. 

 

I was able to compartmentalize the emotion and was in 2nd place by 1/10th of a kilometer per hour going into the final run. 

 

On the final run I caught an edge that I was sure took me out of the Top-10 but was elated to discover I won a medal.

 

On August 8 of that year, I went to another college buddy’s wedding and met my future wife there.