Rebel on the Edge

(4 of 5)

At one point in his career, Miller's slalom-racing results could be summed up in three letters, DNF, as in did not finish. He seemed determined to either win or crash. But not from recklessness. He was in the process of changing his tactics. Simply trying to go faster wasn't working: correcting errors was harder, equipment didn't work as well. Instead, he figured that the quickest route down the mountain was the shortest route between gates. And that required deep analysis. "I needed to learn how to change directions and generate force that was different from other guys," he says. "I had to think about ankle torsion, where the screws are on the ski, how that affects the forces going into the ski and how the ski bends, your leverage points." He did not have to win. "It was a challenge. I was having the greatest time, making the mistakes, crashing. I didn't love racing to beat other guys. I loved it because it allowed me to do that exploring."

Similarly, Miller has his own ideas about training that have clashed with his coaches'. The USSA, like most sports federations, uses standard testing to evaluate athletes. That, says Miller, causes athletes to train for the test, not the sport. He believes that ski racing requires a different approach to fitness. "My team has been very unreceptive about the fact that I consistently show them that I train slightly differently than they do, that I consistently show them that I am in better shape for ski racing than anyone else on the team," he points out. And why wouldn't he know better than they what will work for him? "I didn't feel anyone is more equipped to analyze that than I was," he says. "I've been myself my whole life."

Last year, after tinkering with his boots, he discovered that inserting a composite--as opposed to aluminum or plastic--lift under the sole gave him a better feel on the snow and better performance. Then he did something really crazy: he shared the information with everyone, including competitors. His equipment team flipped, but in the Miller school of philosophy this makes complete sense. Otherwise, he says, "I'm maintaining an unfair advantage over my competitors knowingly, for the purpose of beating them alone. Not for the purpose of enjoying it more or skiing better. To me that's ethically unsound."

His approach clearly works. He has won two Olympic medals, four world championship golds and 19 World Cup events. In a sport in which athletes tend to specialize in either the speed events (downhill, super-G) or technical events (slalom, giant slalom), Miller does it all. In the first race after his apology, Miller smoked the slalom part of the day's super combined event (downhill and slalom), putting him more than a second ahead of the field. It's an astonishing feat, given that most racers are separated by hundredths of seconds. He was, however, disqualified on a technicality, despite a U.S. protest.

Another losing day? Not necessarily. He had accomplished something, proving again that his willpower, his think-first, ski-better approach, had prevailed. That must have made him happy. And he probably had a beer afterward. That probably made him happy too. [This article consists of a complex diagram. Please see hardcopy of magazine or PDF.]

BIG MAN ON THE SKI SLOPES