Creative Writing - Control the Mountain

A blast of cold, fresh, winter air hit me in the face, begging to be inhaled. I surrendered to its plea, shut my eyes, and up my nose the crisp, clean, mountain air went. With a sigh, I released my hold on it, knowing that there was plenty more where that came from. The air up here, so high in the mountains, is like a candy bowl. You know, the kind that sits on the counter, and is far out of your little brothers reach, so it’s always full? After a few more minutes of relaxing and enjoying nature, I realized that the end of the ski lift was approaching. A look to the left, and a nod to my friend, and then the board touched the snow. Up I stand. Balance is gained. Control is taken.

Using the momentum taken from the lift, and the snowboards on our feet, we glided gently over the hard packed snow, as thousands before us have, to the bench. The bench was a homemade deal; it was simply, an old snowboard nailed to a couple pieces of wood. We sat, and buckled our right (back) foot into the endless tangle of bindings. I looked over at my friend, he muttered a few words, but the only one I heard was ‘race’. Up I stand. Balance is gained. Control is taken.

With a push from the bench I’m off, and thoughts of winning streamed into my head. I started down the slope, and the wind blew my beanie off, but I didn’t care. The experience was even more magnificent, and cold, hatless. For the wind could run freely through my hair, and cool the sweat that had accumulated along the hat line. All was going well, when out of nowhere I hit a bad edge and fell. Then I got sprayed with snow from under my friend’s board as he swerves to avoid me. Up I stand. Balance is gained. Control is taken.