The soft, white, powdery snow covered our coats lightly in a blanket of puffs. We observed the big shadow moving across the ground of the chairlift bringing us up the mountain. We heard the beeps of the chairlift and blades being carved into the snow beneath us, snow being pushed off the mountain by snowboards and skis. We watched the figures below us speed by. To my left was a big sign with a deer logo in the center that said Jiminy Peak Ski and Snowboard Resort. As I was looking down, something caught my eye.  I turned to look at it; it was a ring of orange fencing. I looked closer. Then at that moment, my eyes widened, and a big wave of curiosity hit me like a slap in the face. In that orange fencing, there was a smooth, flat, box jump.

Two years ago, I wanted to try snowboarding. Now, I have acquired the technique. I was always searching for new things to try out, like jumps, rails, and riding with my right foot in front. I had had lots of practice and experience snowboarding, and I was confident in this jump.

It looked like a straightforward, simple jump from the chairlift. When we got to the top of the mountain, we got off the chair and slid hastily off the icy accumulation of snow beneath our boards. People surrounded us, choosing the trails they were going to take. Snowboarders were booting in, the sound of clicks filling the air as they secured their boots. I'll just try it once,  I said to myself as I clicked in and did my bindings.

We neared the bottom of the prodigious hill. I diffidently rode into the orange fencing. My heart pounded in my ears. The jump looked ten times thinner. Why did it look so much scarier up close? I started to slide forward and went right past the jump. My S-turns made a mistry spray of snow blast through the air as I rode out of the fencing expanse, the snow laughing at me. A little voice in my head said, if you don't do it now, you might not ever get to!

I kept trying, going in the orange fencing, and riding back out. I was despondent every time I rode out of the fencing unsuccessful, but I didn't give up. No matter how many times I was unsuccessful, I was going to keep trying. I must've rode in that orange fencing ten times without success.

 “One more run,” my dad said. I knew this was my big chance. I reminded myself that doing something you're afraid of builds your self-confidence. My heart was beating out of my chest when we reached the fencing. I took a deep breath. I blocked out everything around me. It was just me and the jump. Nothing else. I slid forward in an imperceptible way. The jump was a good five feet long, but to me it seemed like it stretched on forever.

I slid up the snow mound in front of the jump, and before I knew it, the smooth bottom of my snowboard was sliding along the slick top of the jump. I forced my eyes to stay open. My hands tightened into fists. I could see the end of the jump nearing; I was almost there. I was still doubting that I was ever going to make it to the end when all of a sudden I flew off and into the air. My snowboard hit the ground with a loud thud while I realized I was still standing. I had done it! I landed it! It was an astonishing feeling. A wave of vibrance hit me so hard it almost knocked me over. Heaven was coming to earth. “I did it!” I yelled.

What I learned that day were two things. First, keep trying no matter how many times you fail; I went out of my comfort zone to try something new. Second, when you do something you're afraid of, you gain self-confidence.

 

 

 

 

-Grace C.