Have you ever found something that makes you feel as if you have taken an elevated dosage of cocaine, and now in the midst of a rapid high, floating on cloud nine, enclosed by a surplus of joy, in the middle of heaven on earth? If not, I owe you my deepest apologies because that is the feeling that I live for. For me, this elation comes from snowboarding. Of course I exclude the illegal and anxiety filled substances, but I overflow with ecstasy from the pure sky-high happiness that this sport brings me.

While in route to writing a long collection of memoirs, I realized that I was on the wrong path. I had taken and described various memories from different times in my life, but I hadn’t been completely describing myself or recording who I am. Other than the description of my family and hometown, I had simply been describing events that really don’t express myself as a person. Besides my family and friends snowboarding is most near and dear to my heart. It is the passion that drives my life and a memoir without a driving force is like a captivating cooking show without the intense, suspenseful background music.

This exhilarating passion of mine has changed and improved my life. Although I have only gone through sixteen years on this earth and may have not been able to fully experience certain, true emotions; I am certain that the emotion that runs throughout my vanes and pushes the blood to circulate through my body must be true love. It has taken me to incredible places, physically and mentally. It has assisted my growth athletically, intellectually, culturally, and emotionally. Acting as an outlet and a hide away when I need a break from all aspects of “real life;” or as a safety net when I need something to fall back on, I can rely on this beautiful activity to relieve any stress that I have.

It is a sport, yet not stressful or aggressive. It is a hobby, but more than just a simple avocation. It is an art without the necessity of craft. It is active, fun, scary, intimidating, nerve-racking, free, exciting, hard, complicated, simple, frustrating, thrilling, pleasing, and incredibly and unbelievably awesome. Everyday that I am able to snowboard, this blissfully obsessive feeling wraps around each and every blood cell and shows them the way through my body, reaching my heart and helping it beat that much smoother and that much more ecstatic.

As much as I love this sport or activity or what ever label you would like to put on it, it is oddly hard to find the right description. Snowboarding is a pastime that takes place at a mountain resort, where it snows or snow is made. The attire consists of big, baggy, multi-layer, but fashionable outfits. When taking part in this unusual pastime, you fully fasten yourself into a long, popsicle-stick shaped piece of wood and plastic, and commit to throwing yourself down a mountain. While you’re flying down the hill, there are multiple other aspects to the sport. Some include flinging yourself off of a ramp, or sliding across a separate piece of plastic, or racing, or weaving through misleadingly friendly poles, or maneuvering through rich, but static trees. Whatever it is that you chose to do, I assure that it will be enjoyable. With this seemingly dangerous description I have provided there may be some skepticism to why I or anyone else participates in this sport. Although unsafe, it is the most fun and self-fulfilling activity I have ever taken part in.
 
I wouldn’t be able to call snowboarding life changing unless it had its challenges. Just like any kind of love or relationship, mine with snowboarding has had its roller coaster ups and downs. Over the years it has gotten harder and easier and harder again. Snowboarding isn’t just something that just takes me away and shuts out reality. The sport brings me into a reality. It not only helps me with the stresses in my life because of the serenity, but also by teaching how to deal with them. Through snowboarding I have found ways to be a better human being. Through the hardships and the happiness, I have gained knowledge about myself and much more, even right from the beginning. 

It isn’t necessarily an instant love. Snowboarding is primarily incredibly hard to learn and master. There is a difficulty in accepting the consequences and it is unusual and uncomfortable to allow yourself to safely execute and adapt to.

I started when I was about ten years old. Prior to this pivotal point in my life, I had attempted to ski, but realized that it wouldn’t ever become fun for me, so I gave that up. Then I just resorted to sledding whenever my family ventured to the snow. But one day I was sitting in the lodge with my dad and my sister, enjoying some hot chocolate, while my brother was enjoying his day on the slopes; and my sister suggested that we try to get out there ourselves. At first, I was averse to her proposal, but I agreed and we tried it. I thought it was fun and challenging even though we really never got onto the actual ski lift. After that day I began taking lessons, but it became increasingly difficult. I started to hate it and to this day I don’t know why I kept strapping into that uncomfortable and unstable piece of wood at the beginning. My butt would be sore, my body would be freezing, my muscles would be tired, and so much more agony would come with it. Something about it pushed me to keep trying, maybe it was the desire of mastery or maybe I just kept trying because I thought that my bones would thaw eventually. I am incredibly thankful for this mysterious reason that made me keep snowboarding, because it unquestionably paid off.

Right from the start, trying to learn how to turn, I faced difficulty and discomfort. It was the first of many hills that the journey of snowboarding would take me through. This was the first time that I had to trust myself to execute an objective and keep me safe. I had so many fears to conquer and so many lessons to learn. The first hump that I had to get over was my fear of speed. Then I had to move passed the fear of pain because it was inevitable that I would be falling frequently throughout the day. Because of snowboarding, I think I’m familiar with the feeling of being hit by a semi truck. After I was able to champion those fears I got to reap the benefits and actually snowboard. It took me almost two seasons to really master the basics and soon enough all that pain and frustration was worth it. Little did I know that it would all lead to more pain and frustration, but there was always a profit.

One of the best benefits is the adventure. I have been fortunate enough to travel to and experience various beautiful mountains and amazing conditions. This is where I am able to harvest all of the hard work that I put into perfecting my skills. Being in the outdoors, smelling the fresh and frosty air, feeling the chilly breeze on my face, hearing the slashing and the clicks and the cheers, seeing the joy everywhere, and just tasting the sweet, delightful bliss is unbelievably fulfilling. I’m absolutely filled with warm, pleasing memories from every adventure that I have been on.

One memory that I constantly replay in my head was with my brother during spring break of 2013. We spent the week in Mammoth, California. Our mom took us up and stayed with us for the first half of the week and our dad stayed with us for the second half and took us home. It was such a satisfyingly sensational six days. The first three days, with my mom, were warm and had normal spring riding kind of weather. My brother and I lapped the park and loved it. That was the first year I had really gotten into the park and I was just improving more and more every time I went up. My brother of course was already so good and was just getting great. My mom also enjoyed her stay because she didn’t have to endure any freezing temperatures or unexpected storms. It was bundles and bundles of pure fun.

Then on the day that my mom left and my dad came up, a storm rolled in. That third night, it started to dump snow. The thick and monotonous clouds granted us the perfect gift. Overnight they had left about a foot of snow and it was still coming down in the morning. This meant that we would get to ride powder, which is only my favorite thing on this planet. It actually feels like the clouds are beneath me. It is complete bliss.
We shot out of bed and prepared ourselves for a great day. Our dad dropped us off at the lift and I felt bad leaving him because the storm was intimidating and I didn’t know if my dad could face it alone, but I knew he was strong and he assured me that he would be okay.

“Don’t worry about me. Go have fun! Enjoy this weather!” He encouraged me. And so I went.

My brother and I raced to the lift line, strapped in and boarded the chair. There was no one around. It was practically just he and I and the beautiful, ungroomed, endless runs. It was still snowing pretty hard and it was still bitterly cold. I was frozen on the chair, but I knew it was all worth it. Once I was freely riding abundant amounts of fresh snow, I would forget all about how every bone in my body was rattling from the lack of warmth. And I was right.

We rode off the lift and completely strapped in. Because it was snowing and grey everywhere, I really did not know which way was which, so my brother told me to follow him and we were off. It was incredible. That pure sky-high happiness was returned to me and filled my body. I turned smoothly and whipped through the fresh drops of heaven like a knife through I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter. There is nothing comparable. It is simply the best feeling I have ever experienced. And it was repeated, run after run, a different one every time. It was beautiful and amazing and fun and inexplicable.

We were absolutely frozen after the first few runs. Our facemasks were covered in snow and ice and our faces were bright red and burning from the chill. Our gloves were soaked through. Our pants and jackets weren’t keeping us warm enough, but we didn’t want to stop. We took a little break in the lodge just to dry and thaw off and to recuperate. We both had these foolish grins on our faces. We both knew what one another were thinking.

“This is the best day ever.”

That’s it. That is all that could describe what was happening inside our freezing brains, but we knew that it truly was the best day ever.

That is just one of the many times that I have been able to enjoy the amazing wonders that a mountain can bring. It has been almost five years of incredible joyous adventures. It has definitely treated me well, but of course I have had my hard times and my well-deserved spills.

The injury risk is up there and when I have a giant desire to achieve a trick, I will end up going all out. That doesn’t always result in an injury, but over the past five years I have been in the doctor’s office quite a few times due to the snow. I haven’t had a career-ending fall, yet, but knock on your head because that would be tragic.

After I was able to smoothly link my turns, I was able to move on to a different aspect of the sport. I began ride through the park, where there are features such as jumps, boxes, rails, half pipes, and more. This was another hill to champion, more difficulty to get into, further adversity to enjoy, another language to learn. I would eventually be learning board slides and front one eighties and back threes and fifty-fifties and air to fakies; and I would be hitting down rails and skate style rails and flat downs and step downs and step ups and so much more. This would eventually bring me even more pain than the first few hills.

I had gone through long and repetitive sessions of eating it so hard. I have tacoed, scorpioned, knuckled, fallen directly on my face, and had more agonizing spills. One of my most memorable accidents was my last day of the season two years ago.

I was riding with a few of my friends and three of my coaches and we were just riding for fun and enjoying the last bit of the season. We were casually hitting features that were in our comfort zone. Since it was the end of the season, it was hot and the snow was soft, which makes some things more difficult.

There was one feature that I had been hitting easily most of the day. It was a flat down box with stairs on one side. Since the snow was getting softer and melting quickly, the lip to this feature decreased and it was necessary to ollie slightly in order to get onto the box. Because I wasn’t exactly accounting for this aspect, one run, I didn’t ollie enough and I clipped my nose and still got onto the box but was very uneasy and ended up tumbling over the nose of my board. My shoulder dipped into the plastic surface and my head quickly followed, smashing into the edge of the box. With wishful thinking I thought the fall was over, but I was unfortunately wrong. I rolled over onto the stairs, landing on the same shoulder and flipping slightly over my head so that I was stuck in this uncomfortable position balancing on my shoulder and head. I couldn’t move. My board was stuck in the stairs and my body was stuck out of place. My coach, who was in skis at the time, came down and clunked down the stairs. He unstrapped my board and rolled me over. Then my other coach came over and helped me up. The first thing I said when I got up was “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” my coach exclaimed, laughing. “You just died,” he continued to chuckle.
Then I looked around at everyone else staring at me and trying so hard to keep their laughs in, but as soon as I let out a chuckle everyone else followed.

I couldn’t move my arm and my shoulder and neck area was throbbing. He tried to lift my arm and I screamed. Then he told me that he thought I popped my shoulder out and he was going to pop it back in place. I winced at that thought, but agreed and anticipated the discomfort and torture that was to come.

“Ready? One, two, three.” He lifted my arm above my head and pushed down on my shoulder. The devilish pain swallowed my mind and sent its minions running free through my shoulder, taking the feeling away from my hand. I burst out laughing in order to prevent the tears. Luckily it was quick and soon turned into an ache.

“Better now?” my coach jokingly asked.

“Mmhmm,” I smiled in pain and we all rode away and continued our day. I took it easy the rest of the day and enjoyed the fact that I didn’t actually kill myself.

Fortunately that happened on the last day of my season, so it didn’t take away from any of my progression. However, it was a learning experience, just like any other mistake in life. I feel that learning “the hard way” is the best way to learn. From that point on, I became more aware of the conditions that I was riding in. I made sure to check out the features all throughout the day and I stopped making assumptions about certain details. Just as in other situations off of the slopes. Although sometimes it hurts to learn lessons the hard way, it really puts emphasis on the certain knowledge.

Of course taking a big spill isn’t the only way to learn in life. I have certainly gained knowledge from success and commitment. I probably wouldn’t have continued the sport if all I did was fall. One of my favorite parts of snowboarding is the crazy amount of dopamine and endorphin and oxytocin and serotonin that burst out of my brain. Landing a trick that I have tried over and over and over again, that I have fallen for and distorted my body for time and time again, brings such an over the top, joy filled feeling.

Countless times I have committed myself to mastering a trick. I get so obsessed with it and I don’t stop until its perfect. The frustration builds up, the adrenaline kicks in, the self-motivation starts, and the determination takes over. Nothing else matters until I get it. If I try it and fall, I race down to the chair so that I can try again, and again, and again, until I get the exact trick that I want.

These kinds of hills are the steepest, the kinds where I have to throw away any thoughts of fear and focus on the trick. My brother taught me, “balls to the walls.” Don’t think about the pain that might come, just go for it. I have to picture it in my head. I have to feel it in my body. Most of all, I have to commit and commitment might be the hardest part. It isn’t always about the capability. It is usually about the mindset.

“You are capable of this. Stop being a chicken and do it.” I’ll tell myself

Then after many attempts, much self-motivation, and some pointers, reassurance and jokes from my coach, I finally get it. That feeling, when your board stably touches the snow and your body is in the right orientation, and you ride away without a hiccup, is simply serene. Excitement and joy fill my body and make every little bit of the process worth it.

Then when I have the tricks in my bag and I can take a smooth run, hitting features with confidence and composure, that feeling stays with me. The smile doesn’t disintegrate. The courage doesn’t end. The adrenaline doesn’t stray. And the love doesn’t weaken.

This feeling is the sentiment that I live for and when my best friends are thrown into the pot, it is unbeatable. I have met some of my favorite human beings through this sport and have been able to spend time with some truly incredible people. All of my friends and coaches share this beautiful spirit and charismatic attitude that I could never get enough of. I always feel like I fit in and I’m apart of something unique and fantastic.

Because of this sport and everything that is involved with it, I have a better sense of self. It brings out such great emotion and allows me to be myself. When I am on hill my confidence begins to show and I don’t worry about the petty things. I just ride and let my personality flow alongside my riding.

Even when I am home, I look to snowboarding to be the best part about me. Without the sport, the person that I am now would not be nearly the same. For starters, I wouldn’t have been able to write this paper, but not a day goes by that I don’t think about snowboarding. It runs through my dreams, day and night and tortures me when I am unable to be in the snow.

The thrill of this sport pushes me to great places. I have met the best people and some of my best friends are people who I have met through snowboarding.
The hardest part about participating and loving snowboarding is that there are restrictions. I can only ride when there is snow, which has not been very common in the past couple of years, but I have still managed to make the most of it. My dream is to follow winter around the world and make a living along-side this incredible passion. My mom complains that I put the sport above anything else, but isn’t that what love is?