Is freeriding compatible with the Olympics?

On the sidelines of High Five—which was heavily adorned with giant posters featuring the arrival of our new muse (a Laurent de Martin fully showcasing his subtle aesthetic qualities on a snowfield tucked away beneath the Dents du Midi)—on the sidelines of High Five, then, Zag had organized a conference on Saturday morning in a movie theater repurposed from its original use, featuring several figures from the French freeski scene to discuss a topic fraught with controversy and heated debates of all kinds. The title: “Freeride Skiing and the Olympics.”  

The MC: PierreGuyot, an all-around athlete and host of the NoScore Podcast.

The goal: to provide the keys to a debate that is sometimes heated and often based on misinformation.

The guests represented the various stakeholders involved in the historic changes currently taking place in the “sport and pastime” of freeriding: 

- Julien Regnier, a freeskiing pioneer, Olympic mogul skier at Nagano, ski shaper (for Zag, among others), and creator of the Red Bull Linecatcher.

- Fabien Maierhofer, a professional skier and videographer, one of France’s leading figures since his debut in freeride competition in 2001 (sic), followed by his appearances in major U.S. productions and his famous web series “Bon Appétit.”

- Lolo Besse, who has been part of the Freeride World Tour since 2013, is a former professional snowboarder who has transitioned to a role as a race official and “Head Judge,” and is set to serve in that capacity at the upcoming Olympic Games.

- Kevin Guri, former FWT rider, winner of the 2013 Xtreme Verbier, and coach for the highly successful “Freeski des Belleville.”

- Ugo Troubat, "son of" freeride legend Xavier Troubat, an active FWT athlete and the reigning world runner-up in the discipline.

To begin with, Pierre Guyot treated a packed audience (just under a hundred people) to a well-researched historical overview, aiming to reframe the debate on what freeriding is and how competition emerged in the sport. 

First, a bit of ski history: the very first of them all, an Atomic Powder Magic with a 115-mm waist released in 1988 and designed for heliskiing (“it’s even hard to find a photo of it online”), followed by another Atomic model from 1995, advertised in a magazine with this tagline: “In Austria, we don’t have days of powder—we have months.” And of course, the monstrous 2006 K2 Pontoon, with a 132mm waist, when the arms race seemed to know no bounds.

It’s also a story of competitions, with the “Powder 8” at Micah Heli in 1995—a format where two teams of two skiers compete, winning the run based on a combination of speed and consistency in the figure-8 pattern formed by their turns (we had a close call). 

The cover of Skieur Mag from the summer of 1999 shows that this isn’t a new issue, with the headline: “Does freeride go hand in hand with competition?”

Seventeen years later, following the Linecatcher (created by Julien Regnier in 2010) and Travis Rice’s Natural Selection, the FWThas established itself as the premier competition. It is the FWT that, following its acquisition by the FIS two years ago, has brought freeride to the Olympics, as illustrated by the final video in this introduction, with a powerful voiceover: “a movement that has become a sport, ” “we’ve built a community, and together we’ve created competitive freeride,” and finally, “today, we’re reaching a new peak: freeride, welcome to the big stage.”

At this point, Pierre has laid the groundwork, and the debate can begin.

All the guests’ accounts are consistent and tell much the same story, even for Lolo Besse, who, as a representative of the FWT, advocates for freeride’s inclusion in the Olympics. For him, too, it all began with a rebellion. “I’m a former pro snowboarder who’s anti-Olympics. ”

After years in alpine snowboarding, he switched to boardercross, which—as Candide noted in his presentation of the Linecatcher (See summary), resembled the kind of run “you do with friends.”

At the time, the ISF (International Snowboard Federation) was at odds with the FIS and was quickly marginalized with the arrival of snowboarding at the Olympics: The FIS controlled the qualifying competitions for the Games, and Lolo, like many others, had to fall in line, starting last in his first FIS races because he didn’t have the points (and had raced with a “Fuck FIS” bib).


Fab Maierhofer says he grew disillusioned with freeride competitions early on. In 2001, barely 16 years old and fresh out of a ski academy because “things weren’t going well with the FIS’s rigidity,” he took the start of his second freeride race in Tignes. After a long wait, he made his run, entering through a mandatory couloir because part of the slope was off-limits. But Guerlain Chicherit won the competition by going precisely where it was forbidden. For Fab, that was the last straw; he turned to video and became one of the few French riders to appear in North American productions.


For Kevin Guri, who eventually hung up his gloves after his victory at the Verbier Xtrême in 2013, freeride competition meant “pushing himself further and further in increasingly difficult conditions.” He, who left the FIS because he didn’t like the coaches, has become a freeride coach for Freeski des Belleville, one of the biggest producers of freeride champions.


But what if it’s a generational conflict? For Ugo Troubat, born in 2000, competition is a way to push himself beyond his limits. “ I love it—I grew up watching the FWT, and I think it’s easier today to get sponsors and build a career in skiing.”

Julien Regnier recalls: “It’s true that when I started mogul skiing at age 8, I was really motivated by competition and the Olympics—and I actually made it there. But I was also into skateboarding, and for me, achieving something in sports didn’t necessarily mean winning a medal. In my mind, the way I approached the sport was just as competitive—even at the top of a line in Alaska, I was there to pull off a athletic move. ”

But that came with experience : “At first, I had the same mindset as Ugo—I wanted glory.”


Pierre concludes this first part: “You can compare today’s freeriding to mogul skiing in your day, Julien—with the way the sport is becoming increasingly restricted.”

Julien Regnier certainly sees these Olympic Games as a “once-in-a-lifetime opportunity” for athletes, but he isn’t convinced that the sport itself benefits, “except perhaps in the country where the athlete wins a medal.” In his view, the FIS will standardize the sport through its federation system, all for the sake of global exposure every four years. He’s not sure it’s worth the effort. “It bothers me because so-called ‘free’ sports should be more intuitive and less regimented. Even though the competitions are spectacular, and what the skiers do under those conditions is incredible.”


Fabien Maierhofer echoes this sentiment: “I’m not against it; I’m always happy to watch the competitions. ” But for him, the FIS is siphoning off everything—especially the spirit and culture—because it needs to revamp its image. “Every four years, the brands that have supported the sport are sidelined in favor of Visa and Coca-Cola. It bothers me that they’re patted on the back and welcomed so readily. Especially since we’ve seen it in skateboarding and BMX—it doesn’t foster anything beyond the medalist.”


For Kevin Guri, who works with the federation as a coach on training issues, there’s still a significant educational aspect to it. According to him, the FFS isn’t trying to upend the existing system, but to build the future of freeride using what’s already in place—and, above all, by working with young people and athletes. “The new director of freestyle skiing and snowboarding, Ludovic Didier, wants to bring all the stakeholders together to solve problems and move forward. The FFS can enable freeride athletes to enroll in ski-study programs, gain access to training facilities and medical care, and—most importantly— attain elite athlete status, which opens the door to a state-certified diploma and a ski instructor’s license—something that’s only possible if the sport is on the ministry’s official list. “For me, that’s the biggest positive aspect of the Olympics for young people.”

But for Fab, “sacrificing our culture for elite athlete status isn’t worth it. If you ski at that level, becoming an instructor is within your reach.”

“I left the FIS too—I didn’t want a coach anymore, so I became one myself,” Kevin defends himself. “It’s still more punk to be a freerider,” even if you’re part of the federation? “Yes, because the big difference from freestyle is that the very essence of freeriding is enjoying the powder.”


“We’re going to create an army of young riders who’ll think only about competition, at the expense of the culture,” laments Ju Regnier. “Of course, the two can coexist, but we’ll always have to make an effort to preserve diversity. It’s important to inspire people with videos and lifestyle content—our sport isn’t just about performance.”
“On the moguls, I was just a little soldier in the competition, and it seems strange to me today to see my nephew has become a freestyle alpine skier.”

Julien Regnier has something to say about the judging—he’s the one who “fought hard with Red Bull over the Linecatcher to avoid having any judging criteria.” ” When athletes ask him, “But what are we going to be judged on?” he replies, “I want everyone to express themselves to the best of their ability and showcase their style to the fullest, without holding back”—and for that to happen, the judges need to look at the overall performance, not just points or specific criteria.

In this context, how do you explain the judging to journalists and the public? For him, the question doesn’t even come up. The worst-case scenario would be for freestyle riders to adapt their style to how they’re judged. Lolo Besse responds: “I agree 100% in principle. At the FWT, we simply came up with the criteria to explain this overall score: Line, Control, Technique, Fluidity, and Air & Style.” But at the judges’ table, the overall score must take precedence. “The foundation is the overall score, just like in skateboarding or surfing.” This way, different types of riders can win, whether it’s a “Big Mountain” rider like Ugo or one with a “Backcountry Freestyle” style: “On the morning of the race, you don’t know which line will win.” ”

That said, Ugo emphasizes that “when it comes to risky tricks in competition, I’d rather play it safe to make sure I land cleanly and score points.”


For Julien, one of the major differences between competitions is how penalties are judged. On the FWT, the judges are particularly strict about penalties, especially in “no-fall zones.” On the one hand, this can hinder progress by stifling creativity, but on the other, it maximizes safety. And at the same time, “when the trick is really big, even with a backslap it scores,” as was the case last winter, for example, with Toby Rafford in Baqueira, who executed an ultra-creative line. 


Kevin Guri points out that the Linecatcher offered only one date per winter—like the World Championships or the Olympics— which can encourage riders to give it their all, unlike at an FWT stop, where they’re tempted to “play it safe” before really letting loose. “It’s very hard to get into the Tour, and very hard to stay in it.” That’s a good reason to try to stay in the running by aiming for the top 13 early in the season. “A world championship isn’t the same mindset—you have to win,” even though, for Ugo Troubat , “the rider who wins the Tour is more legitimate than the one who wins the Olympics.”

Fab emphasizes the format and judging at the Olympics: “I’m not sure that the one-minute recap on *Stade 2*—featuring the winning run and all the falls, as we saw with skateboarding—is good for the sport. The footage you’re showing isn’t understandable if you don’t know the sport. Commentators will have a lot of work to do in terms of education and explaining the sport.”

Because even though we saw a lot of crashes at the last World Championships, “that’s normal—the riders are going all out, they’re taking risks, and everyone is giving it their all.”

After an impressive rookie year (he finished 5th in the Tour in 2025), Virgile Didier was injured during the first stage in Baqueira and learned this summer that he would have to go back through the Challengers to return to the Tour. With several of his friends at the table during this press conference, Lolo Besse finds himself in the hot seat. “Leaving an injured rider on the sidelines but giving a wildcard to a skier who’s never qualified (Max Palm)—doesn’t that bother you?”


The Tour’s chief judge responds: “Personally, I would have preferred to bring Virgile back, but the 53-athlete limit is a major constraint. What do we do if three people get injured—do we just not let anyone else compete? The FWT is limited to 22 male skiers. Thirteen come from the year’s cut, 2x4 from the challengers, and we have one wildcard per year. This wildcard is there to help the FWT with its communications—for example, bringing in a Japanese skier if it’s important to promote the event in Asia. ”


Still, compared to others, Virgile Didier isn’t exactly an Instagram sensation, and Pierre Guyot drives the point home “We understand that the FWT’s decision is that of a private company that needs sponsors and is going after Red Bull athletes [Martin Bender, the other wildcard this season] rather than protecting its own riders, but with the FIS, there are rules, right?”


Indeed, in FIS races, World Cup skiers have an “injury status” that allows them to protect part of their standing in the event of an injury—and, most importantly, prevents them from having to start completely from scratch upon their return. Lolo points out that “it’s not over for Virgile yet: every year (except last year), there are skiers who don’t make the cut, and that’s when we’ll open spots to riders on the waiting list. It could be Colby Stevenson (who won the NST), a rider who’s ranked highly in competitions, or someone like Virgile. ”


For Kevin Guri, this approach amounts to disregarding the athletes’ physical well-being, as they don’t feel adequately protected. “Some will want to make the cut at any cost, even at the expense of their health, like Zoé Delzoppo, who got injured at Baqueira and is finishing her season on cortisone shots. Virgile was also considering continuing with an injured knee; I told him it wasn’t worth it.” 

For Lolo, only two things have changed since the FIS took over the FWT in December 2022: “The three letters ‘FIS’ in front of ‘FWT,’ and the doping tests.” In short, the FIS bought a sport but let it run itself, keeping the existing teams in place. “No pressure has been exerted to do things differently,” on the contrary, the FWT is held up as a model within the federation— it’s a format that works, with hyperactive social media and a way of filming competitions and sharing footage that really hits the mark…


There is also an 11-person working group that includes Nico Hale-Woods (founder and director of the Tour), riders, and coaches. “These 11 people approve what the FWT wants to implement, such as the selection process for the World Championships and the Olympics.” ”

There’s also a Pro Freeriders Board within the FWT, which is an elected group consisting of two athletes per category. The tour shares decisions and regulations with them, and they pass along feedback from the athletes—much like a school board with parent representatives. “The day before yesterday, we discussed the starting list for the World Championships with them—a system that will likely be the same as the one used for the Olympics.” In fact, there’s a rule that validates a race if two-thirds of the riders have started. The idea would be to have the best riders among the two-thirds who start first, even if it means tilting the odds slightly more in favor of athletes who have ranked well throughout the season.


The IOC has already agreed to a weather window for holding the event, which is a huge concession compared to the tightly scheduled timetables imposed by TV broadcasts. “We’re still coming in with a certain level of recognition. And as a result, someone sitting at their computer in Seoul or Shanghai will be able to discover the sport, associate the name with the discipline, and help it gain recognition,” argues Lolo Besse.


Given the rules imposed by the IOC and the maximum number of athletes allowed, there will be 44 freeride riders for the Olympics—possibly 11 per category (ski/snowboard) and per gender. “Selecting just 11 riders is going to be way too tough,” says Ju Regnier. “There are 13 riders who make the cut for the FWT, and any one of them could make the podium at the Olympics.”

“The foundation of the Olympic movement is global representation, not necessarily the best athletes,” responds Lolo Besse. “This isn’t new, and it’s the same in every sport. If you run the 100-meter dash in 10 seconds but are the fourth-fastest French runner, you don’t make the team.” The consequence for freeride is that the level of competition at the Olympics will be lower than at the World Championships, but a gold medal carries more weight on a resume.

Ultimately, the debate goes far beyond the question of whether to support or oppose the Olympics. Between peer recognition and federal regulation, opportunities for young people and increased pressure on athletes, professionalization and the preservation of a culture, freeriding finds itself grappling with its own contradictions. 

But these tensions are nothing new: they have run through its history ever since people sought to impose rules on a practice that is, by its very nature, free from them.

The issue, then, may not be whether Olympic freeriding is a good thing, but rather what the discipline and its participants are willing to give up by becoming part of it—and, above all, what must absolutely be preserved.

Medals, elite athlete status, or a global audience will not be enough to sustain a discipline if we forget what makes it unique: the freedom to carve your own line, both literally and figuratively. 

Will freeriding be able to capitalize on this new exposure without losing its essence, fading away, or being forgotten? It’s up to all of us to ensure that the spirit of freeriding endures.