Issue link: https://bluemagazine.uberflip.com/i/25044
column:b lack + blue_ BALLS OUT =trtecihႀ䊉S!Jtamtreiwnssttol liEe; in In a perverse way, it's almost balletic. Slightly off bala nce after catching some air, an 8 mile-per-hour wind slips under your skis. Arms rising, legs splitting, you begin a tWisting piro Your body streaks horizontal through the air. And then, when all seems calm in a solita ry if off-ki moment, the ground roars toward you until, final ly, the crash begins. This is downhill racing. This is what you try to avoid as you push for ever greater speeds-70, 80, 90 miles per hour-down the mountain. This is what Picabo Street didn't avoid last December as she hit the final steep during a training run in Vail, Colorado. "A Sunday stroll," she says, "I guess I was too relaxed. " She caught air off a knoll called Pepi's Face, couldn't make turn, lost her balance and for a horrific, rubber-necking moment began her dan gerous dance. "I laid a fatty," is how she elegantly describes it, "caught a edge ... sometimes you really wish you had a rewind button-maybe it was fate. " Twisting and turning, Street, the only American to ever win the season long World Cup downhill title (two years in a row, 1995 and 1996), slammed int the ground and tore her anterior cruciate' ligament-the straps holding your kne together. After missing the 1996-1997 season, Street skied for the first time la July outside of Portland, Oregon. Her rehabilitation has been slow and st udied. A process of rebuilding her muscles from the inside out, smal lest to largest. N only must she regain the strength needed to win her battles against centrifuga force, but she must also regain her finesse, her "touch" so to speak. . For a sport that seems to be all about strapping on a helmet, throwin caution to the wind and hurling yourself down a mountain, it is this combinatio of strength and flexibility that not only separates winners from losers, but finish- : �3.1ႀ ers from those who wind up entangled in nets. Throw in some patience for good measure. "You have your skis on the snow, your foot in a boot. The skis will go as fast as they can," Street explains. "The rest is [up to] you. It's about relaxing. If you try on self and mountain? It seems so. "It's all in the balance. Line up those G-forces and you're one with gravity. It's like sky'diving." As she speaks of the thrill of l::Jeing in absolute control of herself at 85 powering your way through the stuff you' ll dump." A Zen-like meditation miles per ho.ur, she sounds almost wistful. Like she's been away too long from- the ort to which she feels she was born an I::ire . "I tell myself to stop trying to onquer the world and be patient." Downhill racers are like N y jet "9 tiers. They exude the swag- ering confidence needed when the only thing standing between you and serious rash and burn is a set of skis chattering against hardpack. Street divides her ace world into three types-those that have no fear, those that fear but get over and those who just fear. As for herself, she talks about the need for speed, a ecessary rush added to one's existence. When asked what she hopes her return like, she doesn't hesitate: "I want it to be fresh and sharp. I want it to be balls ut.-Michael , Cervieri 90 mph 80 70