What I Learned To Ski

I learned to ski before I could even walk. That may sound strange, but my dad would share stories with me of how he used to let me drift downhill while he kept me propped up on a harness. When I was around eight years old, skiing had become almost like a second language. While I was able to walk on my own now, I still skied every weekend at Windham Mountain. I became an active member of the Windham Mountain race team and even qualified for both the Kandahar and state championships. Skiing brought me into a different world. A world that I was able to navigate fluidly – a world that was full of adrenaline drenched tranquility. In a single moment, I was able to slip out of my routine life and merge with the freedom of speed and unite with the

In 2014, my team and I raced against Hunter, Bellaire, and a series of other mountains. In these races, I consistently placed within the top 10, allowing me to qualify for states. It was a whirlwind adventure, and the flurry kept me on top of the hill. At the state championships, I scored poorly because my competitors were more dedicated than I was. While I was struggling with English essays, they were on the slopes practicing. I placed nowhere near where I could have and that bothered me a lot. I didn't know whether I could continue skiing competitively, so I decided to take a break. Once my hiatus was over, I returned to my world of ice to find that my close friend Billy had gotten better. In the past I used to outperform Billy in races. However, in my absence, Billy had gotten faster and more skilled, while I lost my touch. I was no longer in tune with the hills, and the loss was like forgetting how to speak a language I once knew. It was at that moment that I gave up on competitive racing. The hardest thing about this decision is that I still ski, but in a much more leisurely environment. Even so whenever I ski down the slope I know it will never be the