As I prepared to make my first run, which ended in embarrassment and pain, I took a second to appreciate my surroundings. Somehow things seemed much different up there. The wind, nonexistent at the bottom, was much more powerful. Its cold bite found my nose. Its quick and sudden swirling movement kicked loose snow into my face, prompting me to zip my jacket over my chin. It’s strange how the gray clouds, which seemed so far above me at the bottom, really didn’t appear that high anymore. If I were only a couple of feet taller, I suspected I could reach my hand into them. As I gazed out ov

As I gained speed by the second, my turns grew in length. Approaching the steepest part of the trail, I noticed an imperfection in the snow. A large bump jutted itself out of the ground, waiting to send an excellent vacation into a tailspin of medical attention. Unfortunately I noticed the bump too late to adjust my turns and change my course to avoid it. As my right ski passed over it, my cold muscles were unable to absorb the shock sent to my leg. The sudden jerk of my ski sent it screaming off of my foot, leaving only a ski boot behind. Unable to keep my balance, I leaned forward, sending my head on a collision course with the ground. My face was so cold it felt like it was on fire. I spun and tumbled as my inertia pulled me down the mountain. My arms and legs ached as they pounded into the snow. I finally stopped after the mountain had had its fun with me. I stood up, covered in snow. As I looked up the slope, I noticed my two skies, my poles, and my goggles some thirty feet above me. I put aside the throbbing pain of my muscles for the moment and began to climb up the mountain to

Some topics in this essay:
Rocky Mountains, Wicked Arriving, Breckenridge Colorado, rest wicked,