For the last 10 of my 18 years, I've pursued a tumultuous love affair with fear.  I'm a professional free skier, and twin-tipped skis, 22-foot halfpipes and double-cork rotations are my main sources of adrenaline, the truly addictive core of extreme sports.

Like all bewitching lovers(at least the ones in the novels I read, for lack of real-world experience), this significant other can be ... mercuial. "Fear" is really an umbrella term for three distinct sensations: excitement, uncertainty, and pressure. I've learned that the nuanced indicators of each of these feelings can be instrumental to success when recognized and positively leveraged, and harbingers of injury when ignored. 

Though it's easy to label extreme sport athletes as fearless or capricious, the countless hours I've spent visualizing tricks and practicing them in foam pits(foam, particles, everywhere) and on airbags (think giant Slip 'N Slide) suggest otherwise.

It's biologically counterintuitive for us to place ourselves in positions of risk, and while we make every effort to physically prepare, no amount of metaphorically safety-netted practice can equate to the unforgiving snow slope that rushes up to meet us after a steep kicker launches us into the air. Instead of ignoring fear, we build unique relationships with it by developing a profound sense of self-awareness and making deliberate risk assessments.

The work begins with visualization. Before I attempt a new trick, I feel a tightening high in my chest, between the base of my throat and the top of my diaphragm. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. As I ascend the gargantuan takeoff ramp, I imagine extending my legs to maximize lift. Then I picture twisting my upper body in the opposite direction I intend to spin, generating torque before I allow it to snap back the other way.

Now, in my mind, I'm airborne. I see the backside of the takeoff immediately, then my flip draws my vision to the cloudless sky above me. My ears register the wind as a kind of song, every 360-degree rotation providing the beat to the music of my motion.

As my feet come under me halfway through, I spot the landing for the brefest of moments before I pull my body into the second flip. I imagine my legs swinging under me as I return to a forward-facing position and meet the groud with my weight in the from of my boots. 1440 degrees. I smile. Then I open my eyes.