Skiing was not my forte or my favorite thing to do. I was furious at the way I tumbled down the slope. I was hurt by falling and tumbling through the freezing cold snow and ice. I just wanted to go home, anywhere but here. My confidence had hit rock bottom. My face red and frozen from crying. I was thinking there was some other way down but there wasn’t.
It was a day in early March about five years ago. We went to Sugar mountain to practice skiing for our upcoming trip. We were staying for the long weekend. I had just started skiing and had gone to 2 ski lessons already. I was so excited to get to go on a real mountain just like my parents did every weekend as kids since they grew up in Wisconsin and Illinois. I thought about how I would be great at it and would be going on all these black diamonds. But, then I reality came through and I knew it would take practice. I was fascinated by the people sliding down the hill like it was as easy as walking to them. When could I go up the mountain.
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The second day after a campfire and good night sleep I started to get more comfortable. I had gone on one blue but I still wasn’t ready for a harder one.“I’m still not ready”, I said. “That's okay you will get there.” My mom had said. Every day we got up early to get out early. I had fallen over 200 times. I was frustrated by the freezing cold snow and the snow blowers making it unable to see through my goggles. At least the snow was slushy from the sun. I felt ready to
That thing was probably the most horrible thing I have ever seen. I have never been in contact with such a space consuming thing. It moved with a lack of elegance and fluidity. Snowboarders are probably the most annoying people on the earth. Don’t we have enough board related sports? Who had even invented the art of snowboarding? I had first learned to ski at the age of six, and had never even thought of learning how to snowboard. I was even annoyed at other snowboarder’s presence on the slopes and their laid back way of life. All I knew was skiing, and I loved it. When I asked my family what they thought about my skiing they said that I had a certain unique touch to it. Ever since I had learned how to ski, I had just wanted to get better and I was
The coat of armor I adorned, made of down feathers and a nylon shell, yielded no protection against the daggers of that cold winter air. As I peered out toward the horizon, I saw nothing but tree tops, and some snow capped mountain tops in the distance. With my feet bound to freshly waxed skis, the only thing stronger than my ski poles was my determination to get down the mountain.
A few winters ago, some friends invited my family and me to go snow skiing at Paoli Peaks, Indiana. I did not know how to snow ski, and I leaped at the thought of trying this new sport. On the first morning we entered the pro shop to rent all the gear and make decisions about whether or not to take lessons or go it alone. We decided to be adventurous and go it alone—no lessons. Kent and Celeste, the friends who invited us, knew how to ski and snowboard. He assured us that he could show us the basics, and we would be on our way down the slopes. All of us, after a few minutes learning how to wedge our skis started down the family trail. Although the family trail had smaller hills and appeared safe, to me it seemed way
As I inched my way toward the cliff, my legs were shaking uncontrollably. I could feel the coldness of the rock beneath my feet when my toes curled around the edge in one last futile attempt at survival. My heart was racing like a trapped bird, desperate to escape. Gazing down the sheer drop, I nearly fainted; my entire life flashed before my eyes. I could hear stones breaking free and fiercely tumbling down the hillside, plummeting into the dark abyss of the forbidding black water. The trees began to rapidly close in around me in a suffocating clench, and the piercing screams from my friends did little to ease the pain. The cool breeze felt like needles upon my bare skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps. The threatening mountains surrounding me seemed to grow more sinister with each passing moment, I felt myself fighting for air. The hot summer sun began to blacken while misty clouds loomed overhead. Trembling with anxiety, I shut my eyes, murmuring one last pathetic prayer. I gathered my last breath, hoping it would last a lifetime, took a step back and plun...
stood upon, was frightening. The only was to go was down. I took a deep
I almost fell off a cliff on the side of a mountain. I was in Pitkin, Colorado, on a camping trip during the summer of 2009. The trees were green, the air was fresh so were the lakes, rivers, and ponds were stocked with fish and wildlife was everywhere. Usually, on these camping trips, I would be accompanied by a large number of people. However, this time, it was just my parents, my three brothers, and my two sisters. I was almost 12 years old at the time and having three older brothers made me very competitive. Naturally, when my family decided to climb one of the mountain’s which were around us, I wanted to be the first one to reach its peak.
I felt the gentle rocking of the chairlift against my back, clearing out any cramps that had formed in my last run. The cold snow fell onto my face, stealing that feeling of the warmth from my body, and snapping me back to reality, back to my ski trip. This was the second time I’ve gone skiing this year. I always look forward to winter, because these trips give me a reason to look forward to winter, and they provide a fun way for my family to bond. “So when are you going to start talking to me,” Mom said.
I was dropped off at the top, I would meet me dad at the parking lot at the bottom. As I started skiing, I decided to go far left, where there was few tracks. I was instantly met by deep snow and a very steep chute. I dropped into the chute, but
...I jumped on the boulder and there I stood one jump away from gaining back my popularity. Looking at the cold ice had already given me shiver. I counted to three and jumped, I had broken the ice feet first. Beneath the ice was dark and extremely cold. I wasn’t able to see anything; I was frightened that I wouldn’t find my way back. It was an unusual feeling, like time had stopped and everything was moving slow. I ran out of breath and eventually found my way back. The whole school assumed that I had died from coldness and wouldn’t come back up. After warming up, it was the new kids turn to jump. Everyone waited but he couldn’t jump he choked. I was glad and proud of myself for overcoming my anxiety. The quote by Amit Ray really inspired me and will never be forgotten: “If you want to conquer the anxiety of life, live in the moment, live in the breath.”
So we got ready to go outside in the below freezing weather. The snow fell down like sprinkles on the frozen ground. We grabbed our sleds and headed to the small hill behind my house, but when
The first hill of the day was down a green. The easiest one there. I was pretty nervous, because I always forget how to ski every time we go and I had so much pressure on me not to get hurt. My brother already was starting to go down it, so I went down following, not being able to ask him how to stop… I pizza sliced it down awhile, then needed to stop because a big rocky cliff was coming at
One of my favorite things to do up here in this town is going skiing. I started off snowboarding and when I fell on my face for the millionth time, I realized that it was not for me and I switched to skiing. Everybody starts off really bad at it but I learned very quickly and soon got better than some of my friends who had been doing it longer than I have.
My equipment was heavy in my arms by the time I reached the chairlift but the scenic views of the early morning mountain were incredible. Furthermore boarding the lift I clutched my ski poles in one hand and reached behind me for the chair. At seven o’clock the ski lift had only just opened and I was the only person on my chair. Snow was pounding down the mountain and combined with the fog, was lowering the visibility.
I glided downhill on my blue and white skis as the cold mountain air filled my lungs. I repeated the drill, and my success sparked some self-confidence. However, my dad fell on his butt and proceeded to blame his equipment for the incident. Despite his failure, my dad progressed with the rest of the group to a longer, steeper slope. In order to ascend this long slope, we hopped on a black conveyor belt which took us to the top.
It was the day of the robotics competition. There was a mistake in the code for our robot, and it needed to be fixed. My hands were moving like lightning on the keyboard. My eyes were scanning code like it was the only thing left in the world. The place around me was nebulous due to my concentration. This needed to be fixed before the next round. Perspiration was forming on my brow. I looked at the clock. Dang! There was less than a minute left. The time was ticking. My programming prowess allowed me to speed up. The code was done! I uploaded the code to our robot and off we went. Robotics is just one of the many activities that impact my life. In my life, there are many significant activities that have impacted me. There are