I was an Olympic mogul skier at age eighteen. At that level, the little things are the difference between success and failure—and one of the things that turned me from a fourth-place finisher into a gold-medal winner was music.

As a child I loved to dance. I couldn’t stop moving whenever music came on. I grew up in Spruce Grove, Alberta. I remember making the family pilgrimage to the mountains, listening to my dad’s music in the car. My favourite was the Fine Young Cannibals, especially “She Drives Me Crazy.” Just singing it now, I can see myself in a fluorescent fanny pack and suit, rocking those slopes. I’m a really bad singer—I shouldn’t even sing in the shower. My love of music comes from rhythm and beat, which plays into my love of sport and movement.

When I reached the national ski team and started working with a sports psychologist, we began using music as a tool to help me perform. Even if I had slept badly or was feeling performance anxiety, I could tap into a place of freedom and joy with the right song. There wasn’t a single day when I didn’t compete with big nerves, but the music helped me channel that anxiety.

At the 2006 Olympics in Torino, Italy, I had different playlists for different moments. I’d listen to a few beats in the ski lodge; I’m not a morning person, I needed that to get me going. Then I’d start my ski day with a slower, deeper bass beat, to tap into the grittiness, focus, determination. I wanted to stay steady, not get too excited too quickly. That beat was great for going up the chairlift, doing the first inspection of the course.

Then came the morning qualification, the first run. It’s super gutsy—if you don’t make it into the top sixteen on that one run, you don’t even get the chance to compete for a medal. I warmed up with a song I always liked; for years it was an Alicia Keys one.

Between runs I would try to nap in the lodge. I’d be over-amped and would put on classical music to calm myself down. People found it funny that I was able to nap in the middle of a competition day.

The ski events in Torino were held in the Dolomite Mountains, in the evening. Being out on the mountain with a beautiful, pink-orange sunset night after night was an experience I’ll never forget. I remember standing in the start gate, thinking, Wow, the show is starting.

My special song for the final medal run was “When the Night Feels My Song” by Bedouin Soundclash. It’s kind of reggae, ska, a bit slower, but it’s uplifting, and so aligned with where I was as an athlete. I was a favourite who was tipped to win a medal, so there was a lot of pressure, but I felt really grounded. I was grateful for all the support, and that song and beat were so positive that they really elevated my energy.

It has a marching beat in it, like I was marching toward this big moment. And the lyrics talk about what a beautiful day it is. There’s one line that describes being all alone as the day turns to night— there can be fear in that moment, but excitement, too, and the song kept even that high-pressure instant positive.

I was up in the staging area ten or fifteen minutes before the race, doing leg swings and quick feet drills to get into the moment. The music tapped into that rhythm and joy, and I gave myself a few moments to dance—which isn’t easy in ski boots! Then I took off the earbuds about two minutes before the race and went through my ritual: run up the hill, knock the snow off my boots, put my bindings on, then move on deck, tapping into the power of my breath and making sure I’m totally aware of my environment. Then into the start gate.

I never skied with music. When I was skiing I was listening to the sound of my breath, the scrape of my skis on the snow. And the roar of the crowd; that day I won gold, and the night felt my song.

Jennifer Heil is a mogul skier who won gold at the Torino Olympics in 2006 and silver in Vancouver in 2010. She works with several charities, including Because I Am a Girl and Right to Play, and helped create B2ten, which raises funds to support amateur Canadian athletes.