I rolled the second car that I ever owned, a Toyota 4 Runner. This was winter in Colorado, two weeks before the 2002 Olympic trials. I was driving in the outside lane, and my rear tire caught some black ice, and we totally turned sideways to the point where we were heading right toward the median.

I was always active as a child. My dad tried to place me in every sport imaginable. I had so much energy, he wanted to push me in a direction where that energy was used appropriately to keep me out of trouble and focused while I was in school.

Do I feel any pressure as the most decorated Winter Olympian in American history? None at all. The only pressures that I know I face are those of how to pay it forward: How can I continually make a positive impact in people's lives, help others achieve their dreams, create their own Olympic mindset, creating champions within themselves?

I tend to build bulk and muscle easily, and running seems to make sure I stay kind of stringy, if that makes sense.

When you watch a tea ceremony, every single movement, every single gesture is very calculated. It's very precise, and it's all protocol. It's all a part of the system. And it's almost like they've sacrificed every single thing to make that perfect. It's like their craft.

You can't dwell on what happened. You can't live even a moment stewing in bitterness.

I think we should all be pursuing something of zero regrets, and how do we become greater than we were yesterday.