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Screw it.

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Two years separate me from the last time I cut through the white powder. Shooting in straight lines and slants, encountering a euphoric feeling. No, no – not what I think you might be thinking – not cocaine. Skiing. Just minutes ago we had gotten off the rope lift to the back side of the mountain. Now, I look down at nothing but double blacks: b-lines to the bottom, moguls all about, and trees of death seemingly moving side to side trying to put me six feet into the snow. I think, I can only make jokes about the frailty of life at this point to give myself any chance of getting down.
These jokes aren’t helping. I’m now sitting. My sweatshirt pulls up a little bit when I sit, and so I feel the god-forsaken ice penetrate my skin and send a shiver through my whole body. But it’s a good distraction from the task at hand. Oh wait, that’s how cold it’s going to be when I fall. And that shiver, it’ll be more of a convulsion. Turns out some distractions aren’t so good I guess. Grant is over there waiving me on with the rest of our group of double black veterans. “Ok, I’ll be there in a sec.” S***. I just slipped. That will do wonders for my confidence.
I can’t help but notice how beautiful this all is. Such a clear sky to contrast my smoggy, city home. Such a pristine white that blankets the ground to contrast the slabs of concrete that smother my home piece of earth. “Hey what’s up, you guys ready to get this?”
“Yeah, are you.”
“Well find out.”
One by one they slip over the edge letting out some type of victory cry or joyous yelp. Wow, I’m still here. I actually could die. This is really sweet though. Exactly how steep is this mountain?
So many things are shooting through my mind.
Screw it.
_________________.
Oh. My. God. I just did that.





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