It's a pretty crazy adrenaline rush because I feel like every run is different. You can never really expect anything. It's like a new adventure every time you drop into the pipe.

Before I drop in, I tend to knock on my snowboard. You know how when you jinx yourself, they're like, 'Knock on wood.' My snowboard's wood, so in case I jinxed myself sometime in the past, I just knock on my board. It just makes me feel a lot more comfortable.

I think the goal is always to be both. I put more effort into the technical side of my riding, but style is very important nowadays.

My dad gave up his job; he stopped working - for me. Without that, I definitely wouldn't be as successful.

Before I started chemotherapy treatments, I wrote down the best advice from doctors, family, friends, books, and survivors and created an 'Owner's Manual' to help me take care of myself. It would remind me that cancer is doable.

My father was the church organist; the village curate was my mother's brother, a former monk from the order of Pijar, a very well-educated and ascetic man who loved nothing but solitude.

In the second part of my life, away from cycling, I hope I will be able to benefit fully from my family and children in the same way that cycling gave me such joy.

When Katrina hit, my family lost everything - their homes, jobs, friends - and then it was a ripple effect, as so many others attached to them were affected. I had to come up with $12,000 per month to take care of everyone.