Narrative

Matt Slusser

Dilbeck

Composition I

5 September 2013

My First “Real” Run

            On a brisk, windy December afternoon, high in the Rocky Mountains, while riding up the ski lift for my first “real” black-diamond run, properly named “2OT”, I remember the first time I strapped into a snowboard back at Mad River Mountain when I was twelve. Similar nerves are dampening my senses almost five years later. The only difference now is that I have a bit of alcohol also impeding my judgement. I always enjoy the chair lift. It Is a time to sit and relax and gaze at the incredible scenery and all the other people on the mountain. Every branch is coated in  what looks like a half-foot-thick layer of fluffy, white snow. Basically more than what we get on the ground in Ohio. Under me I can see the paths of other snowboarders and skiers riding through the untouched powder. It almost feels like a little piece of heaven, so beautiful but still peaceful. As the lift approaches the end my legs feel like jello as I set up to exit the chair. Every meaningless task seems extremely more difficult than my norm. Getting off of the lift is typically a simple task but I manage to miss my stomp pad. So instead of controlling myself with my right foot, it slips off my board and I fall causing two of the other three riders on the lift to go down with me. I get up quickly and help one of the people I took out. I navigate my way to the top of a ridiculous arrangement of trees, ice, rocks, and grade change only to have to sit down to strap my right foot. Just the simple task of strapping in seemed like solving a calculus equation. As I stand up to start, I can feel my stomach turning as a last ditch effort by my brain to stop me, but I was too determined to quit now.

            The first few obstacles were confidence building as I slowly piloted myself towards the bottom. However I bit off more than I can chew as I jump in between two trees to a blind landing. I clear the first tree, but my board clips the second sending my tail off path causing me to lose an edge and slam on the mix of compacted snow and fresh powder. With my hip and shoulder throbbing, I decide to pull off and sit down to collect my thoughts with a cigarette. As I take my glove off to grab a square from my pack I finally feel how bitter the thin air is. My hand instantly starts shivering. My lighter struggles to get a big enough flame to light the little sense of salvation that I have in this winter wonderland. I saw countless animals, most of which were different shades of white, scurrying through the woods to avoid skiers and snowboarders. I could feel the cold air sneaking up my jacket making shooting shivers up my spine.

            My short pitstop turned into a long gazing break and planning of how I was going to finish this run without mangling my body up more than I already have. The bottom half of this run posed only more challenges with a few steep slopes to sharp turns and drop-offs up to 10 feet, I decided to take my time to avoid further injury. The scenery only continued to get better as I went down the mountain. The fluffy powder and sporadic trees turned into massive areas of packed down snow surrounded by a luscious forest of fifty foot Pine and one hundred-foot Spruce trees. Everything is covered in a thick coating of snow. I could only have imagined this much snow in Ohio. As I approached the bottom of the mountain, I regretted not stopping again to take in the scenery. When you’re riding down the mountain it is hard to truly enjoy the view that you have. No where else can I look down on civilization and across to other mountains just as massive as the next.

            Every time I go to Mad River I remember that run in Vail. How much different the two are. Here the lift takes longer than the run and most of the snow is man-made. Out there everything is covered in natural snow, the mountain air refreshes your lungs and sinuses, and I had runs last an hour. I could only imagine living out there and being able to enjoy the beauty everyday.