Nancy Armour

USA TODAY Sports

SOCHI, Russia -- When Meryl Davis and Charlie White began skating together, she was so shy she couldn't even look at him, and coaches would have to put a sticker on his forehead so she'd have somewhere to look. He was annoyed as only a 9-year-old boy can be, forced to break someone new into a sport he'd already been doing for six months.

It's fitting, then, that the ice dancers would give the United States its first Olympic gold medal in a figure skating event other than singles.

Still together after 17 years, they've outlasted many marriages. They're family now as much as skating partners and friends, and for all their considerable skill, they don't win gold Monday night without the love and respect they have for one another.

"We've grown up together in every sense of the word," Davis said, "and I'm just so grateful that we were able to do it together."

Being Olympic champions wasn't the goal when Davis and White teamed up. How could it have been, when the United States was still considered a backwater in ice dance?

It would take a change in the judging system in the mid-2000s to make North Americans legitimate medal contenders, and it would take a rivalry with another team committed for the long haul, Canada's Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir, to make Davis and White champions.

Virtue and Moir won the silver medal, their second of these Olympics.

"We learned a lot about ourselves as people that maybe you don't get chance to learn if you're not in the situations that we've been put into," White said. "The struggles, the rivalry, knowing that if you're not perfect you can forget about your dreams and that constant striving for perfection.

"You have to look in the mirror and figure out every day what it takes to get there. There's a lot of soul searching when you're at the top of the game, as the four of us have been. You mature a lot quicker under that pressure, and I think we did that."

Never moreso than over the last four years.

The Canadians and Americans finished 1-2 in Vancouver. As gratifying as that silver medal for Davis and White was, it made them hungry for more.

But to get to the top of the podium, they would have to become a complete team, that near-perfect blend of art and athleticism that makes it seem as if they're truly dancing rather than skating on a sheet of ice. And the only way to achieve that was through long hours, gallons of sweat and a steadfast faith in each other and their coach, Marina Zoueva.

"It's taken the last four years of day-in and day-out practice and working with Marina and having her show us the way," White said.

The result was obvious, and not just because of the gold medals they now have.

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Skating to Scheherazade, Davis and White may as well have been mirror images. Every extension, every turn, every expression of emotion was perfectly matched. Nowhere was it more evident than in their twizzles.

The rotating turns are incredibly difficult. Try rubbing your stomach and patting your head at the same time. Now try doing it in sync with someone else, and you get the idea. But Davis and White were so in sync they looked as if they were attached by invisible strings pulling them in the same direction.

They were energetic and powerful from the first note of their music to their last. When they finished, White was so spent he knelt on the ice for several seconds. When he finally rose, he buried his head in Davis' shoulder and managed to sum up their last 17 years with three simple words:

"I love you."

"It was the perfect moment," White said, "to express how grateful that I am to have her by my side."