Normally I go easy on my first run, to get a feel for the pipe, but Saskia’s the girl I need to beat, so I’m going to try a 540 on my last hit. I ride down the side until I have enough speed, then plunge in. Down the wall, across the pipe floor, then up the opposite wall and into the air.

My front hand finds the heel edge of my board and grips it tight. Backside Air. I soar above the ice, mind pure and empty, seeing nothing, hearing nothing. Only feeling. These precious moments of weightlessness at the top of the arc, suspended by gravity. This is why I juggle three jobs for half the year and push myself to the limit in the gym.

Sinking back to earth, I touch down, all fired up and ready for more. Back and forth from wall to wall like a pendulum. On my final hit, I spin hard and make the 540—just. My fingers shake as I unfasten my bindings. I love this board. I’m going to keep it forever—put it up on my wall so I can show my grandkids.

Saskia’s walking up now because there’s a queue for the lift, so I trudge after her. The glare off the snow is dazzling, the whiteness of an Alpine winter so different from the gray of an urban one. My eyes are still adjusting.

On her next run she does big back-to-back 540s on her last two hits. Fear swirls in my stomach. I always imagined that once I found sponsors, I could sit back and enjoy myself. How wrong I was. The pressure is tenfold now that I have an image to uphold. I can’t let my sponsors down.

I picture the spins in my head as I strap in. I need to go big on the first one to get enough air time to make the second. Here goes.

Crap. I just face-planted in front of all the people eating their lunch at the bottom. Spitting snow, I wipe my goggles and hurry back up. My knee throbs and I don’t even want to know if Saskia saw that.

I have to do this. A top-three ranking is the difference between semipro and fully pro, and fully pro means you can train year-round. Unlike Saskia, I don’t come from a wealthy family, but I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.

I try again. Another wipeout. My right hand takes the impact and pain zings up my arm. I think I see Saskia smirking as I pick myself up. It takes me four more tries, then, somehow, I manage. And damn it if Saskia doesn’t pull a 720. Two complete rotations high above the ice.