“Ssssss,” whistled the sound of the bitter wind blowing by my ear while I snapped my boots into my skis. The sun was glistening, and the snow blanketed the ground perfectly. All around me I could hear adults chit chatting about the next run they wanted to try out and kids begging their parents to take them into the lodge to warm up after a long day of skiing. It was a great day so far; my parents, sisters and I had spent our whole morning and afternoon on the ski hill trying out different runs. We had just taken a break to go into the lodge to have some pizza and hot chocolate. It was near the end of the day, so after taking the quick break, my mom and sisters were tired and decided that they were done. Since we had already gone down most of …show more content…
all by myself. Like my dad had explained to me, I started to make my way down the long, steep hill very carefully. I kept doing slow turn after slow turn, again and again. The texture of the ground beneath me kept changing with every inch I moved. It would change from soothing, powdery snow, to nerve-wrecking ice patches. The fear that I had once experienced was now gone, and I realized I was actually enjoying this. I felt a rush of excitement going through me, like it was blasting all over. I could see my dad through the corner of my eye and he had the biggest smile on his face. It made me so happy to know that I was making him proud. After that, going down the rest of the hill was a piece of cake. I had no more fear, and thus no problem making it down.
Before I knew it, I was done, the run was done, everything was done. I could hear my mom and sisters cheering and clapping when I reached the bottom of the hill. I could also hear my dad cheering from behind me. Everyone was beyond excited for me, as I was for myself. The feeling was amazing, knowing that I accomplished something that I never thought I would be able to do. After it was all said and over with, my dad and I joined the rest of our family by unsnapping our boots from our skis, taking off our
The freezing wind had chilled my hand to the bone. Even as I walked into my cabin, I shivered as if there was an invisible man shaking me. My ears, fingers, toes, and noes had turned into a pale purple, only starting to change color once I had made a fire and bundled myself in blankets like ancient Egyptians would do to their deceased Pharaohs. The once powdered snow on my head had solidified into a thin layer of ice. I changed out of the soaking wet clothes I was wearing and put on new dry ones. With each layer I became more excited to go out and start snowboarding. I headed for the lift with my board and my hand. Each step was a struggle with the thick suit of snow gear I was armored in.
At 6pm on a Saturday evening, Sally and her parents were on their way to go skiing for their 20th time. The whole family was extremely excited and looking forward to this, especially since the place was somewhere they’d never been to before. As they were in the car, Sally was daydreaming about what the place would look like, and wondered if her worst fear would be there: ski lifts. Everything about this scared her. The car is out in the open, has no roof, and the ride could malfunction at any time. Since this unanswered question was on her mind now, she decided to ask her parents to see if they knew. “I’m just wondering, do either of you know if there are going to be ski lifts at the place?” Both of her parents paused in confusion but didn’t
The ground moved farther away from me as I went higher up. I nervously swung my legs back and forth and placed my ski poles next to me. When I looked down, everyone looked like itsy-bitsy specks in the vast, white snow. Whoa…, I thought to myself, the sight made me feel disoriented. As I went up the lift shuddered, shook, and occasionally swung side to side which made me feel jitterish. I couldn’t believe I was doing this though, but there was no going back now. After a few minutes, or what felt like hours, I could see the end of the ski lift coming closer. I prepared myself by getting ready to stand up by grabbing my poles and tensing my legs. There was a bright red line printed on the snow a few feet ahead and when I reached the line, I quickly stood up and got off. “Phew, at least half the journey’s done”, I thought to
I approach the rugged mountain, shielding my body from the nasty frost nipping at my exposed skin. The sun ever so lightly peeks over the horizon as I strap on my skis, lightly dusted with a thin layer of fresh snow. Although my body shivers unceasingly, I feel comforted by the surges of adrenaline pumping through my body. I skate briskly toward the ski lift to secure my place as the first person in line. On the slippery leather seats of the lift my mind races, contemplating the many combinations of runs I can chain together before I reach the bottom of the hill. I arrive at the peak of the mountain and begin building up speed. Floating on the soft snow, weaving through the trees and soaring over rocks, I feel as if I am flying. The rush of adrenaline excites me. I feed on it. I thrive on it. I am ski; I live for speed; I am an evolving technique and I hold a firm edge.
He fig-ured that the normal half hour walk home might take as long as two hours in snow this deep. And then there was the wind and the cold to contend with. The wind was blowing across the river and up over the embankment making the snow it carried colder and wetter than the snow blanketing the ground. He would have to use every skill he’d learned, living in these hills, to complete the journey without getting lost, freezing to death, or at the very least ending up with a severe case of frostbite be-fore he made it back to Ruby.
It was similar to the suburban street I grew up on, but in lieu of cookie-cutter houses with stale Bermuda grass, there stood wood cabins with yards covered in snow. The reddish-orange light emanating from the towering street lights pierced through a white fog and gently illuminated the area. Exiting the car, I was overwhelmed with a flurry of new sensations. The gently falling snow absorbed all of the sounds I was used to hearing in a residential area.The low hum of passing cars, birds singing from the trees, and the sound of blowing wind appeared to be muffled, even silenced, by the steady falling snow. I felt enveloped in a cool, but somehow familiar blanket. The smell of burning wood was coming from every direction, as each house I looked at had a thin, grayish plume rising gently from the chimney. The plumes represented the warmth and comfort of the many people I imagined to be nestled by the fire. Looking down the street, I noticed how freshly plowed it was. A thin layer of snow and ice-- like icing on a cupcake, or the glass top on my parent’s nightstand-- covered the street. But on the side of the street sat a pile of snow that could have swallowed me alive. Feeling taunted, I stood there and weighed my options. Chest deep mounds of frozen crystals begged me to dive in and lose myself. Preparing to succumb to the temptations before me, I was momentarily hindered by the fear of my parent’s wrath. But had that ever stopped me
Skiing has been a significant part of my life since I was three. The slopes fill me? with more joy than anywhere else. Throughout my years skiing, my Dad and my older brother Trevor have helped me. Following in their footsteps, I have progressed in both the way I ski and the difficulty of slopes I attempt. When I began skiing, I was scared and needed lessons. I could not complete any slopes except bunnies and greens (the easiest slopes). Through many days spent on the slopes challenging myself, my skill improved. I wanted to ski with my dad and brother, and knew I had to practice in order to even try keeping up with them. Determination to join them and be together skiing made me work harder than I have worked before to improve a skill. This story will help you see some of the challenges I faced and successes I achieved as I began to ski, and improved both my skill and mindset.
The third time I wanted so bad to get up, I yelled “Ready.” I felt the water rushing against my face, the pressure on my back foot, I was up. I leaned back and felt the water rushing against my calf the breeze against my face as I cut across the wake making a huge rooster tail. It was freedom. I felt like I could stay like this forever. I was so overjoyed. I cut too the left, then too the right, but Soon I got exhausted and let go. I exclaimed “I did it!”
Several years ago, it was an early Christmas morning at my Grandparents house. The sun was pouring through the windows and the smell of breakfast still hung in the air. The setting was optimal for a great day of happy memories that would only be recalled in short term. What was to follow was anything but a short term memory. Sledding at Indian Hill had been a family tradition. This menacing hill seemed to slope straight down and I can remember standing at the bottom and feeling like I was about to embark a three day hike up a mountain. Looking back on it now, I am not even sure that it was that steep. But at seven, this monstrous hill was like a mortal enemy.
As I started, I read the first prayer and thought about how I had come so far from practice to perfection. When I got to my torah portion, I was accompanied by an old man that was supposed to help me and make sure I was on the right line of hebrew. I held my yard, it was silver with ornate cutouts and had tiny bells hanging from it. For the second part, I used a green one with crystal grapes on it, that my sister insisted I use. When I finished the last prayer I was relieved, I did it yay. All of my family congratulated me and I was so happy, knowing my family was proud. I felt like I deserved five Oscars for my performance. I also was excited knowing Jack Stein is a true
then pushed myself up the hill, to the nearest ski lift. My older brother, Tyler, had already gone ahead of me, so I was even more rushed. I entered the line and made sure that I had my ID card dangling over my neck. After the staff scanned my card, I sat on the ski lift and got ready for a 20 minute long trip up the mountain. I could see my brother almost ten ski lifts ahead, and I tried calling him. I could tell that the man I was sharing the ski lift with was getting a little annoyed with my loudness, so after a while I sat still and kept my mouth shut. I shivered. The snow was falling as hard as ever. I decided that after skiing down Olympic Trail, I would go back to the lodge and drink
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.
The huge smile I had on my face was unbelievable. My dad said, “I was like a kid in the candy store”, with my big smile. I was so pumped all I wanted to do was rope after that and of course I’m spoiled so I got what I wanted.
I yelled. I was so proud of myself I had done it. The lesson had ended and I had thanked my instructor for teaching me how to ski . When we were getting ready to get off the slope I had a new fresh feeling in my mind a feeling that I could not describe just that it made me feel happy. All those butterflies were still there buzzing around in my stomach ,but now the are saying accomplishment instead of anxiousness, I was really proud of myself for accomplishing something that I have never tried before.
Thin air encompasses me as I commence the final day of skiing at Vail, Colorado. Seven days of skiing elapse rather painlessly; I fall occasionally but an evening in the Jacuzzi soothes my minor aches. Closing time approaches on the final day of our trip as I prepare myself for the final run of the vacation. Fresh off the ski lift, I coast toward the junction of trails on the unoccupied expert face of the mountain. After a moment of thought, I confidently select a narrow trail so steep that only the entrance can be seen from my viewpoint.