Skiing

When reflecting on my last 19 years of life, there is one thing that has been consistent throughout a majority of the years. I began to ski when I was three years old, attached to my dad by a leash, which was very similar to what one would walk their dog with. Skiing has been a huge part of my family for many generations. It was a way to bring the family together. Every weekend my grandparents would take my father and his five siblings to New Hampshire to ski at a mountain called Gunstock. My father carried on the tradition by taking my two sisters and I there every weekend, as well. If it wasn’t raining, we were on the mountain. One does not learn to ski well without taking a good wipeout every once in a while. Although I do not remember my first “yard-sale,” I’m sure I was very scared and overwhelmed. This is when you fall and lose all of your ski equipment. Sometimes the feeling of fear when you yard-sale can cause one to stay off the slopes for a long time, and possibly never return. Skiing has taught me to persevere through tough situations. I can remember when I was in sixth grade I attempted jumping over a fence under a chairlift. I did not successfully make it over the fence and got the wind knocked out of me, with an audience laughing above. I was completely humiliated by this event and wanted to end my day right there. My neighbor, who had successfully completed the stunt before me, convinced me to brush it off and keep going. I’ve learned to deal with the initial fear of failure, and accepted that in order to excel, I will have to take risks. Skiing is the only sport that I have stuck with and felt completely comfortable doing. The mountains have become my second home and it’s hard to imagine a winter without skiing. I started skiing because of the family I was born into but I became a good skier because it is an activity I fell in love with and had the resources to pursue.