In a land of snow and ice I stand on a precipice. My chest heaves with anticipation as my breath billows in wispy clouds before me. Looking down I search for a path of least resistance. To my left and right snow capped rocks peak out as if to remind me of the hazard that lies beneath their pristine facades. I need no reminder. My mind hums with a thousand possibilities. Only some of which would NOT result in my hospitalization.
This is the first time I've followed Steve and his friends down un-groomed terrain. This is my first time to ski out-of-bounds. Standing, looking down the steep slope in front of me I can't help but feel uneasy. I've never thought of myself as a skier and certainly not a skier who tackles out-of-bounds terrain.
In my boots I am literally shaking. A queasy feeling rises in my throat. I think to myself that there is no way I can do this and not crash horribly, probably directly into a rock or tree. In my mind I see myself in a hospital bed. I want to go back. I don't want to do this.
Then, I look up. I look at Steve. He is smiling. "You can do this" he says. "No, I can't" I reply. "Yes, you can. But if you want to hike out I will go with you" he assures me. Looking up the slope we've just come down I recognize that hiking out really isn't an option. Taking a deep breath I stare down the snowy chute in front of me. A part of me wants to cry.
"You've got this" Steve says. And with that, I point my skis down hill, lean forward, and let go. Light powdery snow swells up around me. A couple of quick turns later I am staring up at Steve from the bottom of the chute. I made it.
For the rest of the day it is impossible for me to wipe the ear-to-ear grin off my face. Even later when I crash and snow drips down the back of my pants I jump up squealing with glee. I tested myself, passed and earned the right to be called a skier. It is an amazing feeling and I can't wait for our next adventure.