A Time To Ski One warm, sunny summer day, my family and I went to Tennessee. When we arrived in Tennessee, we went straight to the lake and got our boat. Our boat is a Mastercraft speedboat, it pulls many skiers and tubers on it. When we got in the boat, we went out on the lake. The lake was very dark blue in color and it was sparkling and shimmering with little tiny waves. When we got far enough out in the lake, my mom decided that she was going to ski. My mom is a very good skier, and I admire her for it. While she was in the water putting on her skies, I was in the boat ready to watch her. My mom was ready to ski, then she yelled,“In gear!”
I got super excited. Then she screamed, ”Hit it!”
I was ready to watch her ski. She held the rope handle and the boat pulled my mom up onto the water, I was very intrigued. Considering I was only 5 at the time and everything my mom did amazed me. As she was skiing, I thought to myself that maybe, just maybe, I could learn to ski just like her.
Once she was done skiing I told her, “Mom, can I learn to ski today?” She replied, “Yes, of course you can, but we will have to take you to an island on the lake that you can start skiing off of.” She also told me,”You know, that when you start to learn how to ski, you have to ski off of an island then, the real challenge is getting up from the water.” I was in
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I was ecstatic. I was very proud of myself and knew the fear in me disappeared. I couldn’t believe it; I was skiing! I enjoyed every second of it. I also knew that skiing was a lot of hard work. Then, I felt my hands get tired. I started to panic because I had never skied and I didn’t know what to do when I was done. So, I looked over at my dad in the boat and he showed me how to make the “cut” signal. I did as he showed me and as the boat was slowing down, I began to sink. I let go of the rope handle, and I was very proud of
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
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.
There are a few things in my life I could use to write a narrative off of, one that could really strike my mind would probably be snowboarding, not even just the aspect of snowboarding but how it is something you have the ability to do to and kind of use it as a coping mechanism, just something that lets you be at peace with yourself and not worry about anything else in the world. If you were to ask a skier or another snowboarder about the feeling I am talking about. The one where you are going up the lift for the first time of the year or even before you are about to have a nice run from the summit where you are just sitting at the top before you go down the mountain and you are just one with yourself and the mountain
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.
I was in a lake house in lake Gaston with my family. With my dad and my brother. My Brother was 17 and my dad was 39.
Snowboarding, one of the hardest snowsport to learn but easy to master, it's also one of the most enjoyable snowsport on the planet. Even though it’s fun, you can really injure yourself if your not careful. In this narrative you’ll witness the pain I had to go through trying to learn snowboarding but also witness me mastering this incredible sport. It was a cool afternoon in the frosty month of January, the time was around 5:30 pm and my dad just dropped me off at Snow Valley hill in his black Mitsubishi Lancer. I took my blueish green Burton Custom snowboard from the back of the car, grabbed my helmet, gloves, jacket and snowpants and went to the bottom of the hill. There I placed my board on the soft snow and put on my gear. I was wearing a blue jacket with dark
Sledding is a childhood experience full of laughter and excitement. From the first time a child is pulled in a sled to the time when they attempt their first crazy sledding feat, wonderful memories are being created. Sometimes these memories blur together like snowflakes in a January wind. Happy memories with forgotten details, but still leading to the same ending; delight. Most of my sledding memories were like this; running through backyards and flying down hills. Sometimes however, memories are not always delightful. One memory in particular fell into that category.
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.
Pieter and I were determined to become proficient water skiers, while Rhea had knee issues that limited her participation. The Gibson Girl only had a forty horsepower motor, which wasn’t sufficient power for faster skiing or for doing tricks like skiing barefoot. I remember using the Comfort for some of our skiing before Dad traded the outboard for a sixteen-foot Gar Wood Junior, which had an inboard motor and more power. Pieter and I spent hours practicing the basics of getting up efficiently, skiing across the wake and then jumping the wake. It wasn’t long before we developed a passion for mastering slalom skiing. I wanted to ski all the time during that period.
My parents were avid amateur skiers. For years they have told me the stories of their attempts down the hills and across the countries of Germany, Austria, France, Italy, and Switzerland. My dad becomes animated, imitating the huffing and puffing of his trips and laughing until his belly bounces, a result of less physical activity since those adventures. My mom laughs more quietly and requires more questions to keep her stories going. But both remember the same highlights and downfalls.
stood upon, was frightening. The only was to go was down. I took a deep
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.
Then my mom saw a flier to join a soccer team and my mom asked me “do you wanna join this?” and my sister also said “it's a good idea, I know you're new to the sport but you should try it” and I decided to try and see how it went. It went well for me. I enjoyed it.
I am very grateful that she helped me how to ride a bike. My first bike was a blue Schwin. I loved that bike from the time it had training wheels to the time I got a new one. We started with the bike in the bike yard and mom would run either beside or behind me holding on and helping me keep my balance. When she let go I would fall and gets all kind of bruises then she would be mad that she let and I got hurt because of it. I eventually got better and we moved out to the street in front of the house, I loved how it felt to ride the bike on the pavement.
Brain, just like body’s muscles needs rest and relaxation. I find this relaxation in sports, particularly in snowboarding. Even one successful and enjoyable trip per season gives me a strong charge of positive emotions which helps stay focused on my goals until I get another break. The feeling of standing on the peak of a mountain somewhere in the Alps, inhaling fresh, cool air and feeling the adrenalin before dropping into the fresh deep powder snow, is why winter is my favorite season. I’m fond of snow, winter is my favorite season, snowboarding would be the activity if my choice.