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(originally posted on 3/2/2013)

I bid stability goodbye as I push myself forward. The snow is powdery and crispy as the winter sun. My feet are shaking; my fingers sore from unintentionally clutching the pole for so long. I look down. I see that white thin trail spread in front of my vision, intertwining with the dark green land of mystery that I cannot explore just yet. But my eyes are not enough to keep me going forward; my ears are open for the sound of the wind gushing around me, signalling a safe turn. I want to stop, but I keep going forward. I let go of myself and leap. Leap ahead. My body is moving faster than myself.

I see the world open up, swallowing me into its own physical laws. I don't want to stop, though my brain is screaming for control. My feet bounce unexpected as I hit a mogul and a shot of electricity spikes up my spine. I kiss the ground again. It pushes me forward even faster. My tummy jumps. Friction is lost, but I don't want to slow down.

Frozen flakes hit my face, blistering my soft skin. I feel my lips freezing but I sweat instead. The trail continues to unfold, seemingly endless. Then it suddenly comes to halt; I cannot see what's beyond the horizon. My body twists in anticipation with eyes open wide seeking for the next. I think of the sparkling tree tops, the snow that's cradling me from underneath, how fast the world moves. Why do I feel out of control, as if everything's leaving me behind? I am racing against something. Gravity? Time? Myself? I do not have a goal but I don't want to stop. It is the feeling of moving, the power of motion, the joy of movement.

In my head, 'keep going.'

Then I abruptly turn and come to a stop. Looking up to the mountain, I marvel its beauty.



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