When she finished with a flourish at mid-ice, she finally started crying. And by the time she fell into the outstretched arms of her coach, she was sobbing.

But before that on Tuesday night, Joannie Rochette had stood dry-eyed and strong, and for the next 2½ minutes had shown what the human spirit is capable of in the face of crushing grief.

Two days after her mother, Therese, died here of an apparent heart attack, the Canadian figure skater took part in the ladies' Olympic short program and put on a show that brought spectators to tears and their feet.

''I'm not by nature someone who's prone to showing a lot of emotions, but my heart went out to her, and she had me in tears,'' said William Thompson, Skate Canada's chief executive officer.

''The level at which she skated was phenomenal. I watched her as she was getting ready to skate, and she looked like she was struggling emotionally. And then she just pulled herself together and went out and put down a performance that ... was magical and so heroic.''

Rochette is in third place heading into Thursday's free skate. She did not talk with the media after her program, but through a spokesman said of the roller-coaster experience: ''Words can't describe it.''

Until Tuesday, it was a lot easier to define what courage in sports isn't than what it is.

Courage isn't the act of putting on football pads. It's not guarding the other team's star player in basketball or facing a five-foot putt with a golf tournament on the line.

Courage is not playing through the pain of a torn ankle ligament or overcoming the animosity of a hostile crowd. It's not facing a Bobby Jenks fastball, not when you've been blessed with the fast-twitch muscles to hit the pitch.

But what is it? What separates courage from determination? Now we know. Courage is being brought to your knees by the loss of a loved one and still performing in front of millions upon millions of TV viewers.

It's moving one skate in front of the other until, when's it over, you've put together something graceful, even in the grip of your pain.

It's smiling in the middle of it all.

A 5-3 wisp of a woman from Ile Dupas, Quebec, showed us that Tuesday night.

On Sunday, her father, Normand, and her coach, Manon Perron, showed up at her door with the news of Therese's death. No one knew whether it would serve as ankle weights or inspiration for Rochette on Tuesday.

Mother knows best

Therese, 55, had been Joannie's rock. The daughter had sought some independence two years ago, had looked elsewhere for advice.

But as often happens as children grow older, she began to realize how much her mother's counsel meant to her. You go seeking enlightenment and come to realize it's right where you left it. You fly away only to find out that wisdom has familiar crow's feet.

''My mom, who was always close to me, took more distance from my skating for the last couple of years,'' Rochette wrote in her journal in 2008. ''I was missing her input and support, as well as her approach to getting more and more solid with my elements.

''She has always been the most critical person about my skating, pushing me harder to improve.

''Even if it requires quite a big deal of humility at 22 to admit you need more of your mother, I expressed it and she drives from home to St-Leonard [Quebec] once a week to come to supervise with her unique eyes my training.''

The blessing is that she was able to express that to her mother before she died.

Therese Rochette had done what soccer moms, hockey moms and every sports mom has done: She had been chauffeur, cheerleader, sounding board and shoulder to cry on.

How do you carry your mother's memory onto the ice without it overwhelming you? Do you attempt to push it to the back of your mind or do you hope it takes you where you didn't think you could go?

The answers were obvious Tuesday night. Rochette carried her mother's memory with her, and the load was light and freeing.

Supportive crowd

The arena was packed with national pride and unwavering support for the 24-year-old medal contender. For Rochette, this was the right place to be. A mother and a daughter shared the same dream. The dream was to win an Olympic medal. She had finished fifth in Turin four years ago.

So here she was in Vancouver, grief-stricken and determined. And courageous.

''Ten years from now, I would want to come back and try this again,'' she said through the spokesman. ''I have no regrets.''

It's better to be around people in times of loss. Rochette had millions of friends Tuesday night.

Coaches talk a lot about courage, but it doesn't take courage to play sports. It takes talent and desire and will. But not courage.

Courage is what a heartbroken woman brought to Tuesday night's competition. And it was amazing to see.

''I think her mother is jumping up and down up in the sky watching that one,'' Thompson said. ''That was the dream performance.''