Diary of a Tournament: Day 7: It All Comes Down to This.

5am at the airport. Ouch.

This post was supposed to go out Sunday night but due to the fact that I was in a plane I couldn't send it out. Then, the beginning of this week was hectic, catching up on everything I've missed and suddenly cannonballing straight back into real life. Anyways, here it is now. Last day of the tournament.


Up at 6am. Walk up to the window and look out over the ocean. The lightly colored horizon, faded by the fog and distance, greets me. The sun has yet to come up.

It's on. We're gonna do this.

We rally together into the kitchen twenty minutes later to have breakfast and go over some last minute details of the day. We're all feeling good about today. It's all coming together, the pieces that we've prepared over the past week finally falling into place. We clean up, grab our stuff, and roll out. It's the back of the jeep for me again. I won't have much time to prepare to ski when we get to the site so I start preparing on the way there. Warming up my muscles and my mind, I go over my slalom passes in my mind again. And again. Rinse and repeat.

I jump out of the jeep as we arrive, grab my equipment, and jog down to the starting dock. I'm second on the water. There's no need to rush but there cannot be a trace of sleep left in my body, I've got to squeeze it all out. A splash of lake water to the face and I'm feeling more awake. Feeling jittery and wrought with anticipation. Fifteen minutes later and I'm up. I jump in the lake. And ski.

Showing off the stylish new truck driver hats. 

Two and a half passes later. Less than seven minutes. And I'm finished. A score of three and a half buoys at 32' off and I'm satisfied. And done. Completely done with slalom. One more event left. I watch the rest of my division finish up as Santiago comes spectacularly close to clinching the Latinamerican record and then head over to my favorite spot by the house to work on pre-calculus and chemistry. Just one more change of gears that has to be kept greased and running.

Lunch comes and goes and we move on to the jump event. I chat with some people back home while multitasking with my chemistry calculations. I check the time and head over to the starting dock to start preparing for jump. Three more jumps left. It feels odd to think that in half an hour I'll have finished jumping, finished skiing, finished competing. It'll all be over. Everything. And in less that twenty four hours we've got to fly back to North America, back home.

It's nearly my turn and I'm getting ready to put my jump skis on when Robert Pigozzi, the skier before me, crashes out the back. Hard. As in, he breaks a ski. And he hadn't even taken and landed a jump yet. The rescue boat finally springs into action and slowly brings him back to the dock. He's not looking too good but, other than being a bit winded and sore, he's good. The on-site ambulance comes by to pick him up and check him for any serious injuries and before I know it he's gone and I'm back to putting on my skis. Except it's different this time. There's a tangible pall that has settled over the people down here at the dock and I feel the heaviness of it. But I can't think about it. To think about his crash while jumping is to invite that same fate onto me and right now, I can't risk that. My first jump is later than I anticipated and my weight shifts to the back of the skis a bit, effectively shortening the jump by several dozen feet. Although I want to keep my timing the same for the next jump I end up overcorrecting and going earlier, much too early. I almost don't make it onto the ramp. I know that if I want a chance at second place I'm going to have to bring it down and cut. Turn 'n' burn. No more excuses, no more distractions. Last jump and it's farther than the rest. Not quite one of my best jumps but much better than the last two. I'm frustrated because I know I could've gone farther. But don't we all?

I'm done skiing. That's it, that's all. I hang my stuff up to dry and change into my team clothes for the awards. It's truly great to see everyone go up and receive what they worked so hard to earn. And, for those divisions that I missed, it's an opportunity to catch up and see who won and who didn't. It's an awe-inspiring feeling to see all these athletes from all over Latinamerica who come up and win medals and titles,  and to know that this is what they love, what they push for. Their passion.

Santiago wins slalom by a fairly large margin, nearly setting a new record along the way.

Unfortunately, Mariak fell early on the final round but still managed to come in third. She also set a new personal best and Latinamerican record in the preliminary round!

Javier Julio takes second in the slalom event. He also skied spectacularly in the preliminaries but fell early in finals. 

The same Javier Julio, booting out a beautiful jump in the high 180s. 

5:00pm The awards finish and it's getting late quickly, far too quickly. We race back to pack up my equipment, say our goodbyes to as many people as possible with the short notice, and load up our stuff in the van that'll be taking us back to Lima and back to the airport. We jump in and speed off, leaving behind the green site where I skied my first international tournament. Fifteen minutes later and I'm knocked out, in preparation for the little sleep I'll get on the plane tonight.

I say goodbye to the sun, the Peruvian coast, and the Pacific ocean. I fully expect to be back one day.

We get to the airport two hours later and we're just on time. We're here and we can now relax. We check in our baggage and head towards our gate. Crepes and fruit smoothies at a great place in the airport, called Express. Trudge through security, emigration, and customs. Finally get to the terminal, then the gate, and prepare for boarding. It's feeling more like a roller coast at this point. It's 10pm and we're boarding American Airlines flight 917 to Miami. We leave on time, wheels up and headed out. We'll be home by 5am so now's the time to start sleeping.

This week has officially kicked my ass. Monday
morning at 5am and just off the plane. I can't
wait to officially catch up on my sleep.

...only to get up and race to school. By 7:19am I'm in school and in my classroom. Just where this whole trip started. It again feels surreal to be in school after everything that just happened over the past week but I'm not dreaming. It's time to shift from the dream I was living back to reality. This week's been an intense one but I'd do it again in a heartbeat. No question about it. And so it goes. Thanks so much for following along.