I visualize what it’s going to feel like to stand out in the arena and I force myself to stay 100 percent focused on my blades and my body and my breath. And the more that I can dive into the moment, the slower it seems like the time is going. I can feel the crowd getting more excited. Inevitably, there are times when I am actually picturing myself making mistakes or falling. And I have this little voice saying that it’s happened before. It could happen again. I just continue to breathe. I watch Zach. Every time that something goes wrong in my head and every time I get distracted by that, I make myself start over. Maybe it takes me an hour or two hours to get through the full program from start to finish, visualizing it the way that I want, but by the end, I have the feeling that I’m more in control. In my mind, I’m just putting myself in a place of commitment. We breathe together before. I try to make everything tactile so that I’m fully aware of my body and hers. Right before the warm up, I’m in the locker room tying my skates, and everything becomes hyper aware. And I know that I’ve tied my skates a million times, and yet my feet feel different, or it doesn’t feel quite right. I have so much energy going through my arms and legs. I just need to keep moving. I try and take everything in, and the crowd, the scores, and all this other stuff, and I just kind of try to turn it into a blur. I don’t try to think of anything else. It’s just be. You can’t control. You have to be in the moment. You have to live in the moment. The tighter you squeeze a fistful of sand, the more it falls out. And then they call our name, and there’s no choice. You just have to go and do what you’ve practiced to do for the last 12 months.