A brisk afternoon with an optimistic sun shining down on the mountain. A light breeze flowing through the air. Sheets of snow layering the ground like a delicate cloud. The conditions were favorable for a beginner like me learning to ski. Filled with eagerness to master the art of this interesting sport, my skiing lessons embarked. What a professional would consider a walk in the park, I struggled with. Struggling to ski with confidence, I tumbled over myself like a snowball in a child’s hands during my first experiences on the novice-level slopes.

But my desire to become an adequate skier, comparable to my family who already had the hang of the sport, propelled me to move past my insecurities. I embraced the rushing wind against my cheeks as I guided myself down the hills swiftly. I felt new strength in my feet as they controlled the skis. I was becoming comfortable with the fast-paced actions of skiing, finding entertainment in the risk that it presented.

Once I reached a point of skill in which my father believed I would be able to handle my first real slope, he beckoned me to where he stood: the ski lift. Feeling my stomach drop suddenly like a broken elevator cut off from its scaffolding, I shifted over to him. I knew I possessed enough experience to attempt this new challenge, but why was I holding back? My father and I stood together. As the line shortened, we were getting closer and closer to the monstrous, metal eagle that swooped in and picked up its skier prey to the top of the mountain. Tears started to form within my eyes and I abruptly expressed my fear of going to the top of the mountain to go down the slope. It was too high up, I must have been setting myself up for death.

I never ended up going down the slope. The day ended, and all that I did was continue to practice my skiing on the base level of the skiing area. But time changes people, and that includes me. After another year elapsed, and my family and I returned to the same mountain; only this time, I was ready to take on the challenge. Refusing to acknowledge my fears, I went to the top of the mountain on the ski lift. I watched the familiar security of the beginner slopes get farther away. After reaching the summit and starting to go down the harder slope, I was filled with exhilaration. There was no longer fear or mystery about this difficult sport. There was no longer a reason to demonize the ski lift. I was now the eagle, and I soared down the mountain with a feeling incomparable to anything else.