“Yeah, my mind’s here in Calgary.” I laughed along with her. “One thing at a time. It was amazing to win silver with my incredible US teammates in the team event, and I’m hoping I can go out there and do my best in the individual competition.”

“But have you thought at all about the future? You’re twenty-five now. Will you continue competing after this season? Will it depend on the results here?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

I paused, trying to come up with the appropriate generic athlete answer. I could imagine my mother willing me to say that of course I was going to continue competing, and even if I’d be twenty-nine at the next Olympics it wasn’t unheard of, and I loved skating so much, blah, blah, blah.

But in that moment, blinking under the bright studio lights as Janice waited for my response, the Olympic rings looming over us on the studio wall above the window, one word filled my mind. It filled my heart and soul if you wanted to get cheesy about it.

No.

I found myself saying, “Actually, win or lose here in Calgary, my competitive career is ending. I’ve won every other competition out there, including two world titles. It’s been incredible. But I’m very excited about new challenges and the freedom of skating in shows without rules.”

Her eyebrows flew up. “So this is your farewell to competition?”

“I guess I’m giving you the scoop. You heard it here first. Training at an elite level takes a ton of hard work and dedication, and I think I’m ready to move on to the next chapter of my life. Maybe I’ll change my mind in a month or two, but we’ll see.”

Janice nodded. “You can always change your mind, and I know the skating world will welcome you back to competition with open arms.” She joked, “Maybe not your top competitors so much, but you’re beloved by fans everywhere.”

We wrapped up the interview, and I headed back to the Village in a daze, walking the mile or so, my nose cold and my breath clouding in the crisp, dry air under a blue sky.

I honestly hadn’t been thinking beyond the Olympics. Worlds would be a few weeks after the Games, but many of the top skaters here would skip it. Having to come down after the biggest competition of our lives and then ramp back up only a few weeks later was brutal.

Win or lose, I wasn’t going. Was Henry? We hadn’t even discussed it. The Olympics had been our line in the sand, and who knew what would happen after. But apparently I’d just announced my retirement?

Fuck, my mom was going to freak. At least the interview wouldn’t air until tomorrow. Whatever. She could deal, because with each step I took, the instinct that this was right grew and grew.

I’d trained and competed my whole life, and I was done. I could still do shows and tours and hell, maybe I could try coaching. I loved kids.