Down the steepest part, I completely let myself free. I felt the skis had become parts of me, and this wood in the snow was home. I had never been more confident and free. I turned to look at the trees on the two sides of the trail, opened my arms to embrace nature, and even started to sing Let It Go loudly.

I was so excited. This excitement was different from the thrill of being on a roller coaster that rolled 360 degrees. It was different from the time I conquered my fear of water while at sea, snorkeling to see the colorful views hidden underwater.

Skiing relaxes me. I felt just like those trees, and I belonged here. I felt brave and powerful. The bleakness that had shrouded me for weeks was gone.

However, when I tried going down the trail a second time, I somehow shifted my attention from the view to my feet.

I wanted to try some new skills, and my body got stiff. On the flattest part of the trail after speeding up, I decided to imitate athletes whom I had seen on TV to make some beautiful turns, but my legs became tangled and I fell.

After lying on my stomach for several seconds, I stood up quickly, geared up and continued with my favorite sport.

On the third day, the temperature was so warm that most of the trails were closed. I suggested to my friend that we should try the highest level trail - the red one - that was still open.

She hesitated, but agreed finally. We tramped to the highest peak, and I offered to take a look at the steepest part of the run. The ski shop's staff dressed up as though they were members of a national team training there. They advised us not to try.

We took their advice, but we swore that we would try it the next time.