Personal Narrative Essay: Ski And Ski

I Am Ski

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.

I rush toward the mechanical clanking and rattling of the ski lift and collapse into the chair. Exhausted, I use this time to restore my energy. I begin to form the image of the steep route that I plan to attempt on my next run. Its nearly vertical face, large jagged rocks, and rough terrain send shivers down my spine and adrenaline into my veins. I painfully recall my previous attempt, where I did not perform the necessary technique in order to survive the run without a crash. This time,

The pain of small icicles slicing my exposed chin at such high speeds goes easily unnoticed due to the mass production of adrenaline in my body. I recall the first time I felt the satisfaction of pushing my abilities to the limit. It began on an extremely cold and cloudy Saturday afternoon. I experienced a rush of joy as a result of racing through the thick trees, dodging branches and vaulting rocks, relying on just two skinny pieces of wood. Nothing gives more of a thrill than this. Poet Rudolf Caracciola cleverly explains the need for speed in this short