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  • When I ski, the normal rules governing my awkward nature are suspended. My clumsiness is replaced by a gracefulness whose origin I do not know. Something happens when I step onto the slopes. I can fly.

    The faster, the better!

    The steeper, the better!

    The deeper, the better!

    There's nothing quite like flying through the trees in knee-deep powder on a beautiful, sunny day. I can't imagine a better sport, where you can be so physically challenged, in a solitary world of your own, while surrounded by the awesomeness of nature. The mountain cannot be conquered, but it might let you feel that way for an afternoon.

    As you pick up speed, you separate from your friends and your breathing mixes with the sound of the skis carving the turns. Suddenly you look up, catch a glimpse of the mountains around you, and then quickly focus back on the trees flying by around you.

    A helmet is required.
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