I was watching when the crowd got so quiet you could hear the wind. Lindsey Vonn, she is this skier I always admired, was down on the snow. After everything to get here, to the Milano Cortina Games, it all ended in a moment. They had to fly her away in a helicopter, which is a scary thing to see.
People everywhere started sending love right away. Famous athletes like Rafael Nadal, and even the big boss of the Olympics, said they were thinking of her. This wasn’t any normal crash, you know? It was like the end of this brave story we all been watching for over a week.
She hurt her knee really bad just before the Olympics started. Most people would have just given up then. But Lindsey, she’s 41, she didn’t listen. She did all the hard work to get better enough just to try. I saw her in the start gate, and I thought she did it. Then, it was over.
My friend Rafa, he wrote something nice online about me. He said I was an inspiration, which is a big word. He told me to stay strong. A lot of people felt the same way, seeing someone try so hard for one last race.
The Olympic president lady, Kirsty Coventry, she sent a message too. It said I was a champion forever and everyone is thinking of me. Hearing that from the Olympics themselves, it means a lot. It’s about more than just winning a medal.
Other skiers, the ones who know how scary the mountain can be, they all spoke up for me. Mikaela and Sofia, they know. It’s like we’re all in a club nobody wants to join, where you understand how fast things can go wrong. Their support, it matters.
Out on the course, everyone stopped. The medical people were so quick. Then that sound of the helicopter blades chopping the air—it’s a sound you don’t forget. It reminds you what they risk, what I chose to risk, every single time.
My whole career has been about getting back up. Winning in Vancouver, all the surgeries. I stopped the regular racing but my heart wanted this last Olympics, especially in Italy. I love Italy. It was supposed to be a happy thing.
Then I tore my ACL. That should’ve been it. But for me, it was just another problem to solve. And I did solve it, I got to the start. That’s what I’m thinking about now. The crash is sad, but getting there was the real fight.
So in the end, this story isn’t really about a crash. It’s about how far you’ll go for something you love. Everyone is being so kind, from Rafa to the other skiers, and it feels like they’re not just saying sorry. It feels like a thank you.
The doctors at the hospital, they’re all so nice and tell me things will be okay. But my mind keeps going back to the ice, that one spot where the light hit it funny just before I fell. I should’ve known.
You know, a body remembers every crash. My knees, they got their own history book written in scars. This one, it’s a new chapter I didn’t plan to add. But my dad always said I was stubborn more than I was smart about some things.
So many people from my team are here now. There’s a quiet guy, my physio from years ago, he flew in and didn’t even tell me. Just showed up. That’s the thing about this life—it’s not just you out there. It’s all these people holding their breath.
Italy was always my favorite place to race. The food, the mountains, how the people love skiing so much. I wanted my last Olympic run to be here for that reason. To say thank you, in a way. I guess I still did, just not how I pictured.
What’s next? I don’t know that yet. But looking at my phone, seeing all the messages from little girls who ski… it makes me think. Maybe the story isn’t about finishing a race. Maybe it’s about showing that starting one, even when it’s hard, is what counts. I’d do it again, I think. Knowing how it ends? I’d probably still do it again.
