he mountain increased my speed as the cold air whistled past my ears. I edged my skis which responded to perfection, cutting into the snow and tracking across the mountain. I soared between trees and on every bump. I would begin to lose my balance but would regain it in a instant. As I got more comfortable with my skiing skills I went faster and faster. As I gained speed by the second, my turns grew in length. Approaching the steepest part of the trail, I noticed an imperfection in the snow. A large rock jutted itself out of the ground, waiting to demolish skiers. Unfortunately I noticed the rock too late to adjust my turns and change my course to avoid it. As my right ski passed over it, my cold muscles were unable to absorb the shock sent to my leg. The sudden jerk of my ski sent it screaming off of my foot, leaving only a ski boot behind. Unable to keep my balance, I leaned forward, sending my head on a course straight for the ground. My face was so cold it felt like it was on fire. The snow stung me like pins and needles going through my skin. I spun and tumbled as my sluggishness pulled me down the mountain. My arms and legs ached as they pounded into the snow. I finally stopped after the mountain had enough fun with me. I stood up, painted with snow. The snow on my face melted, leaving drops of water trickling into my mouth. As I looked up the hill, I noticed my two skies, my poles and goggles some thirty feet above me. I put aside the throbbing pain of my muscles for the moment and began to climb up the mountain to retrieve my equipment. I had a lot of climbing to do and was winded as I stepped back into my skis. I thought about the near disaster as I began to make my way, more cautiously than usual down the mountain. As I neared the bottom of the mountain, I realized I had avoided a trip down the mountain in the dreaded ski patrol sled. I smiled to myself as I skied back into the lift line for my next run dow...
