Back to the Beginning

The first time I went skiing I was about six years old. My whole family, even my dog Nick, drove up to the mountain with me to see my first run down the slope. We were running a little late for my first lesson. As soon as we pulled into the Tussey Mountain parking lot I was pulled right out of my sit and carried over to the slopes. My dad popped me in my hand-me-down skis and off I went down the bunny slope. I was never really given the choice to ski. I never thought about if it would be scary or fun. I was just born into it. As the seasons passed, I became a pretty good skier. I would go to the mountain every Friday with my older brothers and their friends. I never had trouble keeping up. None of my friends skied in elementary school. However, when I got to middle school I made tons of friends in ski club that shared my interest. I started going to the mountain more often. I got more confident with my skills and would try any slope. My friends and I would travel out of town to bigger ski resorts with more challenging trails. Because of this I answered yes with no hesitation to a trip to Holiday Valley with my best friend. We were in eleventh grade and were quite honestly pretty cocky with our skiing abilities. We arrived at our hotel Friday night, dropped off our belongings and headed right for the slopes. We skied till the mountain closed and went right to bed at the hotel so we were rested for the next day. The trip was going awesome to say the least. We had gone down our first double black diamond and went over all sorts of jumps. It was beginning to get late but we wanted to get as many slopes in as possible before our trip was over. I can still hear the Taylor Swift song playing from my ipod and the sound of the ice carving as I came to a series of jumps. I began going over them carelessly until I realized I was starting to go a little too fast. I then tried to slow myself down but instead twisted my left ski out, getting it caught in the snow. This brought me down hard and fast in the worst position. I screamed for help for what seemed like forever. The rest of the trip was all a blur. I was eventually helped down the rest of the mountain by ski patrol and then take straight home and to the hospital. After weeks of waiting for the MRI results it turned out I tore my ACL. I then got surgery that June to fix it. It took nearly an entire year to get back to normal. I have only gone skiing one time since the accident. Although I was relearning just as I had that first day my whole family took me, I was much more hesitant. It was much scarier knowing what could result.