Narrative Essay About Snowboarding

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A few winters ago, some friends invited my family and me to go snow skiing at Paoli Peaks, Indiana. I did not know how to snow ski, and I leaped at the thought of trying this new sport. On the first morning we entered the pro shop to rent all the gear and make decisions about whether or not to take lessons or go it alone. We decided to be adventurous and go it alone—no lessons. Kent and Celeste, the friends who invited us, knew how to ski and snowboard. He assured us that he could show us the basics, and we would be on our way down the slopes. All of us, after a few minutes learning how to wedge our skis started down the family trail. Although the family trail had smaller hills and appeared safe, to me it seemed way too fast and dangerous. I fell several times before making it to the bottom and started having doubts about whether I’d ever be able to really enjoy the sport. By the end of the first day, however, I was not only flying down the family trail but was going down black diamond trails with just a little nervousness. Before the night was over my son, Nathan, convinced me to switch to snowboarding. It would be a decision that I would later question and chase as I strove to master it. “Master” it—ha! What a laugh. I must have thought I was Sean White or something. I would be lucky just to make it off the ski lift without breaking my arm, and after an evening and a morning of snowboarding, my elbow and hips were so black and blue, my wife persuaded me to stop

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