I Pray When I Ski

     

     It’s not the “I love this so much. God is so good.” type of praying. It is more like the “Oh God, I’m going to die. Please don’t let me die!” Every time I feel the wind picking up and the bending, plexi-glass swivel beneath my feet, I beg for mercy. Perhaps I am exaggerating, but after skimming my way down a black diamond on my first day of skiing, I returned to the slopes with trepidation for a second foré in the winter sport.

     For my parents, this brief day skiing was a joyous return to their childhood memories of whizzing down mountains. I felt bad for not loving it as much as they did, but I decided not to push myself, lest I end up with a broken neck. I put in my time and spent the rest of the afternoon chugging hot chocolate in the lodge.

      The 16 degree and windy weather didn’t help the experience.

Veronica A.
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