Snowboarding has always been something I’ve admired. Every winter I would and still do sit for hours with my eyes peeled open to the X games. My dad and mom noticed my love for the sport and got me a beginner board for christmas when I was 8. At first I was just practicing on a little hill that my dad made in our backyard. Which turned out to be just another one of my dad 's crazy ideas. Soon my parents realized I needed something more so my dad and I set up a small park in our yard. I quickly grew out of it, and that 's when they decided it was the last straw. We packed up and shipped out to Powder Ridge.
The grey sky stretched out its gloom up behind the hills. The air was cold and crisp. It felt as if it was putting a coat of frost on
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Tiny children and wholesome families gathered on the slopes to learn. As I sat in the lodge putting on my gear I noticed the line forming at the chairlift. My anticipation started to grow as more and more people gathered at the foot of the hills. It was a line of people whom I knew were way better than I was, considering it was only my first time and I had no one to teach me. I was self taught, because my parents didn’t know the first thing about snowboarding or skiing. Scared, but excited headed from the chairlift. I strapped one foot into my snowboard and limped to get ready for my turn on the lift. When my turn came, I nearly slipped getting on and was almost pummeled by the lift. I held the poles of the chair with fear like a little kid. Soon my nerves calmed and the ride to the top turned to pure graciousness. The snow shining on the ground flashed in my eyes, and reminded me to put my goggles on. I watched kids slip and tumble down the hill trying to find their groove. Near the top I realized I didn 't know how to get off a chair lift. My feet began to slip underneath me and my nerves kicked back in. Fumble on my seat, trying to figure out my next move, the chair lift approached. My feet tried to catch on the snow, but it was to slippery and I