I learned how to ski before I learned how to spell. Well…I still stuggle with the latter skill, but you get my point. I immediately took the sport. My parents recount a day in which I refused to come off the mountain despite a heavy rainstorm and a completely soaked, and consequently 75 pound, snow suit.
There are few things I love more than the sound of my boots click, clicking into the bindings at the base of the mountain. I live for the anticipation that climbs right along with the elevation as I ride to ten thousand feet. That initial shove off the edge of a peak and into a whir of wind and white renders me completely cut off from the rest of the world. This is my bliss.
The experience only gets better when you toss in old friends and hot chocolate. Lucky for me, I enjoyed both this weekend in Vail. Eight of my college buddies and I strapped sticks to our feet, helmets to our heads and gloves to our hands for three gorgeous days. I feel soo lucky.
Inevitably, friends of friends end up joining any ski outing. We love adding to the crew! This weekend, my friend Ali’s buddy Andy joined us. I caught a reflection of all my friends in his goggles just before we took off down the mountain on Day 2.
Skiing makes us jump for joy!