Even growing up, I was always the helper-outer, the sous-chef to my parents.

Records are the only thing that remain of an athlete, the only thing that people will remember. If I want to ensure that people don't forget me, I can only stop once I've set the bar as high as possible for anyone coming after me.

There are times when one certain snow condition is great for one particular brand of skis.

Facebook and Twitter have changed how people follow ski racing. In past Olympics, you couldn't stay in touch with the fan base that followed you during the Olympics. They thought they had to wait four years to reconnect.

The huge difference in my lifetime is that you can just go up to somebody and make a pass. You couldn't do that in the 1950s if you were gay. There were secret handshakes, a secret language. There was nowhere you could go to be romantic outside of people's houses.

The manic pursuit of success cost me everything I could love: my wife, my three children, some friends I would have liked to grow old with.

To be remembered at all is an achievement of sorts.

Success did change me. You don't want it to, but it does.