Imagine this: It’s the very last day of winter break; school will resume tomorrow, and with it, the stress of completing homework, studying for upcoming midterm exams and continually participating in extracurricular activities will return. My brother is home from college, Chinese school is canceled due to icy conditions outside and my homework over the break is finished; my last day of winter break is filled with opportunity. What would be the perfect way to celebrate this final day of relaxation before school? To go skiing, of course!

    After about an hour on the road in the afternoon, we arrived at the Spring Mountain Ski Area in Schwenksville, Pennsylvania. To our surprise and delight, the slopes were almost empty! Even better, the tickets were discounted for the evening and it was only mildly chilly outside. But last time I went skiing was about a decade ago, and I had no idea how to begin!

    I collected my skis from the rental area and proceeded with my brother to the bottom of the beginner slope. I pulled on my boots, fastened my helmet, and stepped into the skis. The two flat pieces of wood attached to my feet made me feel unbearably clumsy! Fortunately, getting onto the lift was relatively easy, but I nearly fell over after being unceremoniously dropped off at the top of the slope. Standing at the peak of the beginner slope was intimidating in itself; I had no idea how to turn, stop, or control my motion or direction in any way. Deep breaths, I told myself. I was utterly terrified! I barely made it 10 feet down the slope before my skis slid out from under me. One ski even disconnected itself from my shoe! As I hobbled over to reclaim it, my other ski detached! Standing up was incredibly difficult. My skis kept slipping forward, and the boots were so heavy, I couldn’t even lift my feet! With some help from an employee on ski patrol, I managed to regain my footing, duly embarrassed, and put my skis on correctly. The second time down the slope, I somehow slipped my way down the mountain without falling — until I tried to stop, that is! I pushed the tips of my skis toward each other like I was told, and dug them into the snow, but nothing seemed to stop the speed of my descent. Finally — third time’s the charm! — I got off the ski lift smoothly, and didn’t even fall as I sped down the slope.

    My brother and I spent the next four hours “shredding the slopes,” going down the hill again and again. Granted, we weren’t brave enough to try the more advanced slopes, but being able to rush down the hill and stop smoothly was exhilarating in itself. I learned through experience that facing a fear head-on is the only way to conquer it! Next stop? The Winter Olympic Games!