CORTINA D'AMPEZZO, Italy — Eileen Gu isn't trying to sound zen about all this. It just sort of comes out that way.
There is something inherently dangerous about flinging yourself down the side of a mountain or soaring over snow and ice, yet don't describe what Gu and hundreds of other Winter Olympians who are exposing themselves to the unpredictable whims of the elements across northern Italy as a battle.
It's more like a dance.
''There's a big part of it where you feel like you're integrating with nature and also surpassing the capacity of mankind at the same time,'' Gu said. ''It's a very enlightened experience in a way.''
One that separates the Winter Games from its summer counterpart, too. Sure, the weather plays a factor in what happens inside the Olympic stadium during track and field or how open-water swimming and surfing play out. And there's nowhere to hide for marathoners running 26.2 miles through the streets of whatever metropolis they might find themselves every four years.
Yet running, throwing and jumping in an organized way have been around since the Greeks were doing it a few millennia ago. They're easily accessible. Just go outside — the backyard, the local park, the nearby trail — and boom, you're there.
Winter itself is more forbidding, with its snow and its ice and its subzero wind chill. Going outside in that is a choice. Competing in the sports of the season, be they classic (like downhill skiing) or otherwise (looking at you, slopestyle snowboarders), demands a bit of wanderlust, a willingness to meet nature where it is on a given day while exploring just how far your courage, skills and imagination might take you.
In some ways, the events at the Winter Olympics feel like a series of dares. Go 80 mph (130 kph) or more down an icy slope. Spin around three times on a snowboard and add a flip or two if you feel like it. Contort your body around a series of gates placed impossibly close together.