IN THE END, RAHLVES'S HIP keeps him out of the race at Squaw. "Pro athletes need to know the right thing to do with their bodies," he tells me as we watch the race at the finish line. "You get to know anatomy through being injured." A few feet away, Puckett is prone on the snow, grimacing at a torn medial collateral ligament suffered in the finals.

An hour later, we take off in Rahlves's truck, a big black Chevy Duramax with a leather interior and a sticker on the back windshield that shows Rahlves cartooned as Captain America. He drives like he skis—fast and true—and we quickly cover the dozen miles between Squaw and his five-acre spread northeast of Truckee.

Rahlves doesn't just have a garage—he has seven. The Chevy occupies one. The others bulge with toys and trophies—a photo of his dad making a U.S.-record water-ski jump of 158 feet in 1964; the plaque from his first World Cup victory, in Kvitfjell, Norway, in 2000; the top-end snowmobile that Red Bull gave him. Three snowboards hang on the walls, along with 22 pairs of skis, including decade-old race skis, new Atomic prototypes, fat planks for Alaskan powder, and giant-slalom boards for skiercross. "I need all seven of these garages," he says. "I couldn't move if I wanted to."

Three weeks later, Rahlves goes to Alaska and bags a freeskiing DVD segment in Rage Films' Enjoy, which is out now. "It was the best heli-skiing I've ever had," he tells me when we catch up in October. "Well, it was a little unstable, a little sketchy. But that makes for good filming, because a lot of snow was moving down around me as I skied my lines."

Matchstick owner Murray Wais hopes to shoot with Rahlves this season but says the difficulty is finding time. "Freeskiing's in Daron's blood," he says. "He just hasn't had the time or opportunity to change and commit to it."

Which brings up another new hitch for Rahlves: teamwork. Shooting video segments requires that he coordinate his performances with the ski guides, a cameraman on the ground, another in a helicopter, the pilot, and, sometimes, other skiers. "It may be selfish, but I'm not much of a supporter," he declares. "I couldn't fully feel the joy if I was on a basketball team and my teammate sunk the winning basket."

That might be why Rahlves says most of his energy will go toward skiercross this winter. "I just built a start mount at my house," he says. "As soon as it snows, I'll have my own practice area. Last year, the start was the worst part for me. I feel I can out-ski everyone else, but I crashed at every event last year because I wasn't out front. I'll try to get that dialed up."

The U.S. Ski Team, meanwhile, has just appointed a new skiercross coach, a former racer named Tyler Shepherd, in preparation for the Olympics. Rahlves knows Shepherd well and likes him but says he's still not sure about 2010. "A lot has to do with qualifying," he explains. "I'd like to see it done like U.S. snowboarding does—with a series of American grand prix races. If it requires lots of European World Cups, over several months, I'm a longshot to try."

There's just too much keeping him in America these days. He's getting involved with his family's commercial real estate business; trying to nurture young skiers for the next wave of U.S. World Cup stars; working with Atomic on new ski prototypes; and wining and dining with sponsor VIPs—including a group of European bankers who are flying to Aspen in February just for the chance to ski with him.

Rahlves also got pulled into a committee attempting to bring the Winter Olympics to Reno–Tahoe for 2018. By then, he'll be 44 and no longer competing. Unless, you know, something happens and...