My cheeks and nose tingled. My breath came out in little clouds that floated away in the cold air. I felt my Dad’s hands on my sides as we reached the lip of the jump and launched into space. Time slowed in my three-year-old mind as I flew, eyes wide and full of wonder, through the sky. That is my first memory of skiing and I was hooked. That's when I fell hopelessly in love and got a glimpse of my future. Because of this, Alyeska is now my backyard; the chairlift is my couch; wherever my skis are is my home. When I’m on the mountain, rain or shine, training or free-skiing, I’m exactly where I should be. But the place that brings me the most comfort and happiness is in my first memory of skiing, with my dad’s hands holding me, the air on my face, and my heart beating with a love that will last a lifetime.
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| Shredding, not quite 3 years old |
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| Jumps with Dad, 2006 |
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