I stood, trembling, staring down a massive mountain blanketed with two feet of snow. A sunny Sunday in early February made for a fantastic day on the slopes; I had been on a pair of skis all morning. It was my first day of skiing, and I had progressed fast enough throughout the day that I had built up my confidence. This sureness in my ability was short lived when faced with the biggest challenge yet, an intermediate level ski run that required a controlled precision I had not yet mastered. I began my journey down the slope. Rounding the first turn, I could feel my legs struggling to keep up with the pace at which I was proceeding. Sensing it was only a matter of time before things went wrong, I braced for the worst, and that is when it happened. My skis crossed and sent me flying through the air. Tumbling down the hill, I landed in a snow embankment and lost most of my equipment in…show more content… The first day back, I strapped on my rental skis and headed towards the bunny slope to warm up. After some practice runs, I hopped on a nearby lift and headed towards a more challenging course. The first run of the day, I wrecked at the base of the hill. I landed on the back of my head, which earned me a visit to the ski patrol office. While inside, one of the ski patrolmen came in and glanced over at me lying on a nearby bed. Knowing he was far more skilled than I, and that I would be there awhile, I began to ask him questions on how to improve. He pulled up a chair and with his arms out, explained some of the more advanced techniques of skiing. He taught me that my greatest shortcoming was not appreciating the art of skiing. I wanted to ski like a professional without putting in the countless amount of work and hours they each had under their belts. After resting and speaking to the patrolman, I was able to take it slow and review my form to be ready for the next
