The Mountain

It was my second day on the mountain.  I was still a novice at the art of skiing, but was handling myself with some degree of control. For the most part, I stayed on the beginner trails; constantly trying to perfect my stopping, turning, and overall comfort level on the skis. When I fell, which was often, I always got back up quickly.  It was too cold that day to stay down in the snow, and my ego was too big.

I had stayed around the base of the mountain most of the day. It felt safe and somewhat level there. Towards the end of the day, my friend (who was also a beginner skier) had the idea to take the last lift to the summit of the mountain and spend the rest of the day skiing down the mountain.  There 

was some sort of beginner trail that zigzagged all the way down the mountain.  Reluctantly, and quite stupidly, I agreed to the plan and hopped on the lift.

I remember vividly how long of a ride it was to the top. I remember the howling of the wind as it blew past my red ears.  I remember how sore my legs felt from supporting the weight of my dangling skis.  Most of all, I remember the cold.  The temperature dropped 20 degrees during the course of the lift.  Too top it all off, I was completely under-dressed for the situation, wearing only jeans, a light coat, and a pair of sunglasses.

The lift took us to the tip top of the mountain, where the only place to look is down.  After a clumsy departure from the de-loading zone, my friend and I made our way down the long trail.  It was much more difficult than anything I had experienced, and I fell much more often.  After a while, the cold became completely unbearable. My non-ski appropriate outfit had begun to get wet from all of the falling.  Any time I was able to stay in control and gain speed, I was tortured by my wet clothes soaking in all the cold out of the air. My glove-less hands soon fell numb and it became impossible to hang onto my poles. This only added to the difficulty and increased the frequency of my falling.  I was miserable.

            In the end, my motivation to get dry and warm was the only thing that got me down the mountain. I was incredibly relieved when I finally reached the base.  Once the snot icicles thawed, I took a moment to think about my stupid decision to ski down an entire mountain.  Although it was a horrible experience, I would gladly do it again.  You truly learn a lot about yourself when faced with such miserable experiences.