Truth is, I shot the basketball once.
And then I continued to happily avoid the basketball for the rest of our games that year.
When I say that I havent crashed once this ski season, I mean something similar.
Growing up, my friends and I used to take chances on a daily basis.
In those moments your vision narrows.
Your heart feels as though it might burst, and the blood gushes and thunders in your ears.
Eventually, you accept your fate, point your skis down hill, and desperately calldropping!
And, sometimes, when you toss the dice, it goes well.
As you cruise towards your friends all you hear is the wind rushing by.
Even more often, though, theres just impact.
A quick trip to the tomahawk spin cycle.
Or an expertly placed jab that splits the skin underneath your chin.
A fact that illustrates how closely related skiing and eating monumental shit were for me at the time.
Crashing sucks, no doubt about it.
Amelia making more low angle turns at Lolo
Skiing, like everything else, never remains static.
Its a uniquely personal and individualistic past time, often tied deeply with ones understanding of self.
Thats not to say an evolving relationship with skiing goes only one way.
Some of my old friends rediscovered the sport after a long hiatus.
Others turned to the backcountry to find a fresh challenge.
A select few continue to compete and ski hard, constantly improving and expanding their bag of tricks.
Thats whats so exciting about skiing.
