The morning of the Olympic downhill race I felt condifent. My warm-up went without a hitch. About a hour before the start of the competition, I took an additional run on the practice course to get used to the speed. At the bottom of the training hill, there was a "cat track" (a narrow trail providing a short-cut between the two slopes). All of the athletes used this cat track to get back to the base of the mountain and the main lift. As I entered the cat track, an Olympic volunteer course worker came into view heading towards me, up the trail. There was neither space nor time to slowdown. I moved to my right and I saw him move to my right. I moved left - he moved left. I threw my skis sideways trying to stop and SMACK, we crashed.

Sadly, he was big, about 6'2", and 220 pounds, and I am only 5'4" on my best day with mousse in my hair. The thing that just ripped my heart out was that the course worker merely collected himself and skated away, leaving me in a heap on the side of the trail, unable to get up. It seemed like a half hour (it was probably only about five minutes) before anyone found me. A Swiss coach finally came by and immediately radioed for my coaches. They arrived in seconds. One coach, Chip Woods said maybe the damage wasn't that bad and we could grab my running shoes and jog around the parking lot to loosen up my leg. A great, positive attitude, but I barely put some weight on it and crunch...I felt the bones move. Doctor Steadman arrived on the scene and confirmed my worst thoughts. The Agony of de Fibula...a spiral fracture. My Olympic dream was over.

I decided to make the best of it and push onward. Members of the press were hovering around outside the First Aid building, awaiting my reaction. I told the press the details of the accident, but stated emphatically that I held no one responsible, that accidents sometimes happen. Now on crutches, I went back to the mountain with my mom and dad to support my teammates. I traded Olympic pins and went to hockey games. I hung around the Athlete's Village and met with many remarkable athletes from all around the world. With so much of my life invested, I was determined to have a positive memory of the Games.

Certainly luck exists, but while bad luck can sideline achievement, I never felt my good results were due entirely to good luck. We are the ones that truly make things happen. Sometimes bad things happen. The lessons learned from our mistakes or the bad breaks that come our way can leave solid impressions on which we build character. We can learn from each setback, even if it occurred as a result of a freak accident.

Casting balme for your lack of success only dimishes your ability to take credit for your achievements. Sometimes the circumstances might be out of our control, but if we asses the situation and find that we did everything we could to achieve our goals, well, that's all we can do. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be.

Dwelling on a bad incident only promotes negative thoughs. Instead, try filling that void with something inspiring. Push yourself into the future. Do something you really enjoy to get back on a positive plane; play golf, read a good book, go for a hike. Do anything you can to get yourself back on track.

I achieved a level of recognition not because of an Olympic medal, but through my perseverance and character. And my experience opened the door to a new career in television as a color analyst for alpine skiing. By resisting the temptation to cast blame, I set myself up to be better at my next field of play.