Face down in the icy cold snow, lying almost lifelessly. I am almost immobilized by the firm bindings on the snowboard, too tired to unbind them, and too weak to get up. I see foggy, frog-green pine trees through blurry eyes, and hear the howl of the wind through my distorted ears. No help, no people, just me, myself, and tons and tons of white powdery snow.

I am sitting at the top of the mountain at Winter Park, a ski resort on a mountain in Colorado. I look down at the run ahead of me, able to see the parking lot at the bottom of the hill. It is such a peaceful sight, the white snow clashing with the black rocks. The dark spiny pine trees that look like tacks in the distance. The brown rustic log cabins. As I admire this my brother skis down to me proposing to meet at a chairlift. I agree, and we are off, plummeting down the white, treacherous mountain.

 I cut my board through the powdery snow, looking at the lines the edge of the board creates behind me. I see the world through an orange heugh through my goggles make. The green pine trees are now yellow, the black rocks now gray. Though my vision is impared I am better able to hear the howl of the wind as a slice down the mountain, and the occasional cry of a little kid who has just fallen over. I feel the cold, crisp air through my jacket, a compliment to the warm and soft ski mask I wear over my nose and mouth. Best of all I feel the bustling of butterflies in my stomach as I fly down the mountain trails to the chairlift, the mountain's way of saying that it is not to be reckoned with. 

Completely clueless of where my brother has gone, I improvise my own route to the chairlift. I cut through vast forests, which swallow me and all of my sense of direction. I make quick turns to avoid the large pine trees that threaten to break my nose if I were to come into contact with it. Brittle twigs the trees carelessly litter the land with constantly threaten to wipe me out. Popping in and out of forests I finally reach the final trail that leads to the chairlift. This was a wide forest trail with bounding piles of snow creating large peaks and crevices like waves of the ocean. I admire in awe the towering trees, the beautiful howling of the wind coursing through my ears and my face. I come over the top of one of the bounding waves and fly freely yet out of control into the air, realizing I have been bested by the mountain. My board catches snow on the way down and I get slammed face first into the edge of the run rolling down into the forest. Rolling into tons and tons of snow.