Every state has a stereotype for people; Californians are egregious drivers, Minnesotans adore the snow, Texans have bad grammar, and Coloradans love the outdoors. Sometime they are true, others not. In my case, the Colorado one is. I love the outdoors, there is something about the way it is so serene, the way it is full of never ending beauty and adventure. It's because of this stereotype that every fifth grader gets a free pass to visit any ski resort of their choice three times in the season. My dad has always loved skiing, so naturally I have too. I learned in fifth grade and ever since then it has become a tradition to go skiing all the time; specifically on New Years Day.
Since I have been skiing for almost four years now I’m adept, or at least decent. Normally, if it was just my dad and I we would be going to the top of the mountain to brave the blacks, but my
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I noticed everything; every little branch on the trees, every twig in the snow, the way the snow fell, the little gaps in between the trees. The snow fell delicately and vanished in the sea of snowflakes. The evergreen trees oscillate in the wind, revealing new chambers to slip through. My mind sees everything, it's almost as if I am a camera on autofocus. The wind picks up again and I have to momentarily pause to regain my balance. It isn't a strong wind but when you are surrounded by trees and snow, it becomes one. I take advantage of my break and pause to catch my breath and begin calculating my way out. It takes me a minute to stop admiring the scenery and actually think about where I am in relation the the run I was taking. Then it hits me: I have no idea where I am. I was paying so much attention to the scenery that I had lost track of the turns I made, of the way I had come from, of the slope I could no longer see. And all I can think is “Crap. Just crap. I’m actually