The mind of a mogulist at work, pigtails flying

Her gloved hands tightened on the handles of her ski poles. She could hear a voice sounding the countdown checklist: "Judges ready; timers ready...."

Skier ready.

She was. Shannon Bahrke of Tahoe, a Californian and an unblushing American with strips of red, white, and blue paint prancing at the corners of her eyes. But at this moment, she was a super-energized citizen of her own universe, because at the signal to go she launched herself into the skier's cosmos of snow and ice shards and thin air. It was a swift and whirling journey down the mountain that rattled her teeth and flung her into the surreal. And at the end of it was America's first medal in these Olympics, Shannon Bahrke's.

Do you want to know how to navigate those monstrous moguls that seem to leap at the skier like the dark goblins of a fairy tale?

"Think about driving a car," Bahrke said.

Be serious, girl.

"No, I mean that. Skiing through moguls is like driving a car. You can't focus just on what's directly in front of you. You have took look beyond that. But skiing in the Olympics, going for a medal, was a dream. It was absolute fun, totally awesome. You can believe that. That's why I couldn't figure out why I woke up Saturday before the competition feeling totally numb. I don't know what it was. Maybe the day was that big. I told one of my teammates about it. And she said I'd get over it."

How did she?

Incredibly, Bahrke was smiling when she flew out of the gate to start her run. This was her element - the crowds, the electricity, and in front of her an almost vertical field of snow filled with enormous mushrooms called moguls. She was effervescent and unquenchable and she wasn't bashful about her goal. She wanted the world to discover a new Miss Moguls. And was that actually gold glitter visible on her eyelids? It was. Call it the confetti she hoped to sprinkle on her own Yellow Brick Road to the Olympic podium.

She got there, to the thunderous salutes from the crowd that filled the recesses of Deer Valley at the finish of the women's moguls run. The Americans who stomped their feet for her didn't care, nor did she, that her gold had turned to silver, her medal for second place behind Norway's Kari Traa. When the final rankings were announced, she threw herself into a delirium that swept over her hundreds of fans and friends and the thousands of her countrymen celebrating America's first medal of the Salt Lake City games.

You got the impression then and in the weekend aftermath that Shannon Bahrke is rarely going to be blown away by the lurking threats of inhibition. And why should she? She is 21, full of energy and lifted by the wings of freedom on the mountain. Her cachet is free skiing. She darts and bobs through the moguls, leaps into her helicopter spins, and laughs at gravity with her body's pinwheels and splits.

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