Fear is addicting. Fear is adrenaline. Fear is motivation.

But I wasn’t afraid.

Ok, so that was a lie. Once. Only once was I afraid. And that was my first run down the green circle slope. I could have sworn that it was almost flat as I gazed down from the ski lift. But as soon as I was halfway down my speed increased two fold and I thought my legs were just going to fly off and knock some children over like bowling pins.

We were happy as clams on my first ski lift, until my eyes popped out of my head on that first run.


Our morning was spent getting comfortable enough so that we wouldn’t flop around like rag dolls on the slopes.  And most importantly–learning how to avoid slamming into trees and people. Thank you to our wonderful instructor 🙂

By noon, we were just as good as the 3-year old snow monsters next to us.

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After going down the slopes a few times later that afternoon, my comfort level and confidence sky-rocketed.

So maybe it’s a little overambitious to tell everyone I would go off a jump and slide a rail before I even set foot on a pair of skis.  I would mostly say it as a joke to satisfy my extreme, almost out-of-reach, desire to become and Olympian. But the more I would say it, the more I believed that I could do it.

Fear breeds caution.

Caution breeds insecurity.

Insecurity can lead to injury.

If you start out nervous, you’re more likely to crash and burn (gymnastics taught me that way too well).  So I mentally washed out any inkling of fear that I may have held, but making sure I paid close attention to my abilities.

Knowing your limits is very important. Push them too fast… and you’ll end up eating dirty snow.

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Every time we rode that ski lift I would watch people slide the rails and go off the little jumps. I internalized their take off and their landing and set my eyes on the one I wanted to ride.  I knew I could do it in the next few runs.

Standing at the top of that mountain, I could just feel myself breathing in excitement, adrenaline, and confidence.
Not one fiber in my body doubted or feared anything.


About 10 feet before the rail, I crouched down, gained speed, hopped up, and landed the jump off! Just as easy as I told myself it would be.  It was almost equivalent to sticking my double back dismount after a great bar routine in a competition (except I wasn’t half naked, and the chalk was now cold snow).


There’s just something addicting about the adrenaline you get when you diminish all fear in your body.

It’s exhilarating.
It’s freeing.
It’s difficult.
It’s fun.
It’s worth it.

It makes you want more. And more I will have.

See ya this weekend Big Boulder! I now have no reason to complain that winter is too long.