This coverage is made possible through the generous support of Marty and Kathy Hall and A Hall Mark of Excellence A Hall Mark of Excellence Award. To learn more about A Hall Mark of Excellence Award, or to learn how you can support FasterSkier’s coverage, please contact info@fasterskier.com.
By the time the women clicked into their classic skis in the upper Rhône Valley on Saturday morning, the sprint course in Goms had already made its argument. This would not be a day for pure glide, or pure kick. It would be a day for the awkward in-between—the calculus of wax, confidence, and courage. The kind of skiing that rewards athletes who keep their heads when the track changes mid-lap, when the fastest line is also the most exposed. Here, “relaxed” and “hard” have to mean the same thing.
The official report called the surface “hard packed.” Air was just above freezing (0.4°C). Snow was far colder (-8.0°C). This split-temperature setup can turn one polished corner into a skating rink, and one kick zone into a question you must answer at speed.
With Milano Cortina looming—the last World Cup weekend before Olympic racing in Val di Fiemme—every answer carried extra weight. Sweden, in particular, arrived with a familiar burden: racing to win and also to clarify which few women might fill the nation’s four Olympic start spots in the classic sprint. The day’s story was not just about who won. It was about the ones who looked ready to be chosen.
At the center of it all was Linn Svahn—back on top of a World Cup sprint after what she described, in a post-race on-air interview with FIS, as a challenging year.
“So nice to be back and compete again,” Svahn said. “It’s been like a roller coaster year… It’s one of my favorite courses of the whole World Cup. But it was tough.”
She looked more than “back.” She looked inevitable.
Qualification: fast snow, sharp edges, and a fraction too much ice
Svahn set the tone immediately, winning the qualification in 3:46.07, with Switzerland’s Nadine Fähndrich second (+1.84) and Finland’s Jasmi Joensuu third (+4.35).
For the Americans, the qualification round was both encouraging and cruel, as sprint prologues often are: three into the top 30, one out by a place.
- Jessie Diggins qualified 6th in 3:54.81 (+8.74).
- Julia Kern qualified 15th in 3:58.58 (+12.51).
- Samantha Smith qualified 26th in 4:00.71 (+14.64).
- Lauren Jortberg—was so close—finishing 31st, 4:01.74 (+15.67), one spot out of the heats.
Jortberg’s own description of the qualification captured the emotional violence of that single place. Her plan, she said, was to ski “as relaxed and smoothly as I can,” then push the fast pieces—downhills and turns—hard. She believed she executed that plan almost everywhere.
Except, crucially, at the top of the major climb.
“It was way icier… than when we were warming up on it, and I wasn’t anticipating that at all,” Jortberg said. “I lost a ton of time. I nearly fell because I slipped so much—so that’s really brutal, especially being 31st.”
Her immediate feeling, she admitted, was a strange split: “both devastation and almost like tears of joy,” because of how much she had struggled in classic sprinting in the past—and because, on this day, she could finally feel the gap closing. “There’s more to come,” she said. “I’m really excited to keep working on my classic skiing and showing that I’m a threat in both classic and skate.”
On paper, it reads like a line item: 31st, not qualified. In the body, it feels like something very positive is brewing from many years of hard work.
The heats: Sweden’s depth, Switzerland’s home-course fire, and the shape of the final
The women’s sprint in Goms unfolded in the standard format: five quarterfinal heats of six, two automatic qualifiers from each, plus two “lucky losers” on time; then two semifinals with the same rule; then a final of six.
What made Saturday distinct was how quickly the day shifted from “times” to “tactics.” Goms is not a flat drag race. It’s a course that asks athletes to make decisions—when to risk the inside line, when to conserve, when to surge. Kern noted afterward that those decisions are hard to replicate outside racing.
“For me, nothing beats the effort of racing head-to-head to practice digging really deep,” Kern said. “Those surges and tactics are hard to emulate in training.”
That mattered because Kern arrived at this World Cup period still chasing a particular feeling—what she has described as race sharpness—after time back home training.
On Saturday, she said, she finally felt it.
“Today I felt sharper than I have in any sprint so far this season,” Kern said. Even in a moment when she was sixth over the top of the first climb, she believed she could re-enter the race: “I knew I could charge the second climb and that I wasn’t out of it.”
Kern also described the way she is trying to reprogram the smallest pieces of sprint execution—especially the opening of the qualifier, where she has struggled.
“One of my goals was to start faster in the qualifier… and I did today,” she said. In the heats, the goals shifted: “continue to believe and never count myself out,” keep technique cues in mind, “send the downhill,” and practice cornering. And the most important sign, to her, was the feeling on the second climb: “I felt my second hill surge… and that’s encouraging for the last bit of training before the games.”
Kern ultimately exited in the quarterfinals, finishing 15th overall on the day. But the quote that lingered was not about the placing—it was about learning to believe, again and again, in the middle of the heat, when the race tries to convince you you’re done.
Smith also advanced out of qualification and into the quarters—another solid marker in a season where her trajectory has been trending upward. She finished 23rd overall.
Her takeaway was precise and practical, the kind of detail you can only identify when you’re close enough to feel time leak out of the run.
“Looking ahead, the next few weeks, I’m really going to prioritize transition moments because I felt like I lost a lot of time there on the course,” Smith said. “But I know it’s something I can practice and sharpen with some intentionality.”
She also pointed to tactics: “I think there’s a lot I can improve tactically, and definitely walking away from today’s race with some stuff to focus on for the next few weeks.”
Her plan between now and the Games is a familiar championship build: “I’m going to use the next two weeks as an opportunity to build volume before sharpening with some faster and higher-intensity workouts,” she said, adding that she’ll keep her preparation similar to what has worked for her before major championships.
For Diggins, the day held a different kind of meaning. She arrived in Goms wearing the World Cup leader’s yellow bib, but approached the classic sprint less as a referendum on form and more as a laboratory — a chance to learn, adapt, and sharpen instincts under pressure.
In the quarterfinals, Diggins said her skis felt “a little bit slick,” prompting an adjustment before the semifinals as conditions continued to glaze over. “We added more for the semi, which I was super, super happy about,” she said, noting how quickly the track changed as the day wore on. “I was really impressed with the team’s ability to shift mid-round when it turns out, like, oh, it’s getting a little more glazy.”
Rather than fight the conditions, Diggins leaned into them. She said she made a conscious decision to seek out firmer, faster snow and to corner aggressively, skiing where the surface had stayed icy instead of getting churned into powder. “Downhills are my strength, so I was like, I’m going to play my strengths here,” she said. “I was really psyched about that — and also really impressed with my ski speed. I’m really, really grateful to our team.”
Diggins qualified sixth, advanced through the rounds, and finished 7th overall, exiting in the semifinals. In a day defined by razor edges, she looked close. The difference between “final” and “semis” felt less like fitness, and more like the thousand small interactions between ski feel, kick security, and how aggressively you can take space in traffic.
Diggins framed the race as part of a broader Olympic preparation, even with the acknowledgement that racing under training load makes the experience different than what awaits in Val di Fiemme. “I was really just seeing this as great practice for the Olympics,” she said. “You can still learn so much — learn where your strengths are, what you think you need, how you might want to pace.”
She described the day as “a learning mission,” an expedition of sorts to gather information she can use over the final weeks before the Games. While the classic sprint is not her primary Olympic focus, Diggins said that doesn’t change how she approaches it. “If I’m going to do it, I want to really go for it and give it the best that I can.”
Technically, Diggins said the Goms sprint offered a valuable reminder of what she is still actively refining in classic skiing. On a long sprint course with slow, natural snow early in the day, her focus was on what she called “relaxed power.”
“I was thinking a lot about not skiing frantically,” Diggins said, describing cues she used throughout the race — staying tall on the steep sections instead of folding forward at the waist, leading with her hands when fatigue set in, and prioritizing efficiency over force. “Lots of little cues,” she said, all aimed at skiing as economically as possible when the course demanded patience as much as aggression. I
The final: Svahn returns, and the podium reshapes itself
By the time the final arrived, the field had taken on an instructive shape: three Swedes (Svahn, Dahlqvist, Emma Ribom), a Swiss home favorite (Fähndrich), a German (Laura Gimmler), and a Finn (Johanna Matintalo).
If Sweden came to Goms needing clarity, this was the clearest possible argument: depth, multiplied.
Svahn won the final in 3:46.07. Behind her, Gimmler took second at +10.54, with Fähndrich third at +12.38 (listed as +1.84 behind Gimmler in the results display). Dahlqvist finished fourth, Matintalo fifth, and Ribom sixth.
For Svahn, the victory read like both a return and a resolution. In that FIS on-air interview, she framed the months since then as having reshaped her perspective.
“I think [the nerves are] quite all right,” she said of the Olympic approach. “It feels like the last year has given me a lot of challenges. So [it] feels like I’m just happy to be back racing.”
The subtext—the thing everyone in sprint skiing understands without saying—is that “happy” is not the same as “soft.” Sometimes it’s the opposite. Sometimes it’s what happens when fear gets replaced by appetite.
What the Americans take from Goms
For the U.S., Saturday offered a compact set of truths:
- Diggins is still Diggins—top-six in qualification, semifinal caliber in classic sprinting, and moving through the day with the poise of someone who is not guessing anymore.
- Kern’s sharpness is arriving at the right time, and she can feel it—not as a vague confidence, but as the ability to surge when the race says you can’t.
- Smith is identifying controllable time, the kind that can realistically be found in the last weeks before a championship: transitions, tactical decisions, and intentional sharpening.
- Jortberg is at the door, close enough that a single icy misread becomes the whole story—and also close enough that “devastation” can coexist with proof of progress.
That last point may be the most emotionally resonant, because sprinting is brutally literal: it doesn’t care how well you’ve been training, or how much you’ve improved, or what you deserve. It cares what happened on the one lap, on the one climb, when the track turned slicker than it was ten minutes earlier.
Still, if you listened carefully to Jortberg, you could hear the deeper shift: the sense that classic sprinting is no longer a weakness she is managing, but a skill she is building. “There’s more to come,” she said—and she didn’t sound like she was trying to convince herself.
A last World Cup weekend, and the feeling of the calendar tightening
The phrase “before the Olympics” can make everything sound ceremonial. In reality, it makes everything feel compressed. It turns a ski change into an existential decision. It turns a quarterfinal exit into either a warning or a reassurance, depending on your mood, your coaches, and your confidence in the training you still need to do.
In Goms, the course didn’t let anyone hide from that compression. It asked for kick and glide, yes—but also for willingness: willingness to trust your skis when the track changes, willingness to believe you’re not out of it when you crest a climb in sixth, willingness to keep choosing speed through corners, through transitions, through the parts of the course where time disappears quietly.
Svahn won because she looked like someone who had already made peace with the hard months—and decided to race anyway. Diggins moved through the day like someone who understands exactly what she needs and what she doesn’t. Kern sounded like an athlete who could finally feel the race returning to her body. Smith sounded like an athlete who knows where the seconds are. Jortberg sounded like an athlete who knows how thin the line is between “in” and “out”—and how much it matters that she’s standing on it at all.
Diggins also spoke with pride about the broader U.S. team atmosphere in Goms, describing the rounds as collaborative as much as competitive. She said she and Julia Kern spent time discussing tactics and strategies between heats, and she pointed to Samantha Smith’s growing confidence as a highlight of the weekend.
“Seeing Sammy gain confidence and get into the rounds with a really great strike rate has been so cool for me to see,” Diggins said. “I’m just incredibly proud.” She added that the momentum extended across the team, noting breakthroughs on the men’s side as well — moments she described as “really beautiful to see.”
The Olympics, when they arrive, will not care about any of this context. They will simply happen. But if Goms offered any preview, it was this: the women who will matter most in Val di Fiemme are the ones who can treat uncertainty not as a threat, but as part of the job.
And on a hard-packed, split-temperature day in Switzerland—on a course Svahn calls her favorite, on a climb that turned to ice without warning—you could see who is learning to do exactly that.
Goms World Cup Women’s Classic Sprint QUALIFYING
Goms World Cup Women’s Freestyle Team Sprint RESULTS
Help Support Our Olympic Coverage!
FasterSkier will have our own Nat Herz on the ground at the Olympics, which is a very big financial lift. If you value the thoughtful work FasterSkier provides at championships like this one, please consider becoming a Voluntary Subscriber.
Join the FasterSkier community!
