My whole story launches from a van overflowing with sleds, tubes, skis, snowboards, and too many sweaty and adrenaline-filled high schoolers. Our crazy group anticipated the run as the overloaded vehicle reached the top of the mountain. This my friends, is where I began my trip. Unfortunately, my friend Sarah and I were making this journey together on a “Microsoft Windowsish” sled. No one would have guessed what was in store for me and my daring partner. It all started when I was standing smack in the middle of a high-speed pathway. That is not too much of a bright idea, as I quickly found out. We crashed further down the slope and lost control, and the sled lurched and threw us into a clump of alders and a fellow sledder. My neck did not feel too well, and Sarah’s arm was hurt. Joel was on his hands and knees groaning about his ankle. Was it broken?
“I think it’s going to be o.k.”
“Thank God!” Sarah and I still felt terrible, and we should have stopped our attempt of the slope right then and there.
Not three minutes after our ankle-bashing failure, we started descending the hill again. Our wimpy foam board gained speed. Spinning around backwards, we careened towards yet another bank filled with trees. Extraordinary instincts in my gut told me we were headed toward something hard and painful. (Actually, the shouts of all the people closely watching us might have possibly, somewhat, maybe a lot to do with it, too.) Sorry to say, we didn’t get off the sled in time, eventually ending in another pileup with a few more sledders. Thankfully God loves us enough to have saved us from a catastrophic death. Due to our newly acclaimed fame, people came over and congratulated us on our amazing lack of skills. We officially became the most esteemed klutzes of all time.
Sarah and I decided to walk down the hill for a while to regain our broken confidence. After a while, our fear was replaced with excitement, and we tried once more to go down the hill on that horrible sled. These attempts only resulted in splats on our faces.
As we finally came close to the end of the hill, the realization hit us that we hadn’t gone through the worst. One more gnarly drop awaited us and our failure of a sled. Did I mention how this also led to a snow-covered bridge over a small creek? We heard it calling us to make a monumental attempt. After all, it was our last run, we had to try to sled down. My brave friend sat with me for the absolute perfect moment. Pushing off into the unknown and trusting the self-willed piece of plastic was the only thing we could manage. To even remotely think that we should try this was probably not a fabulous idea. Down the steep hill we went, bouncing over the jumps, and rounding the curve.
There it was; the bridge. The same feeling that I felt so strongly earlier surged over me, for we had whirled backwards for the thousandth time. I could not tell which way we were going, or what was happening. My pathetic, slow-motion groping was not enough. At that moment, thoughts were wiped out of my head from the force and shock of the fall. Whipping around and forcefully catapulting into the icy creek, I could hear the sounds of water gushing and the blurred voices of my friends. The water poured over me, washing my senses out. Stunned, I realized that worthless, evil piece of foam threw me in the water. Everyone gave me a hand to pull me, who stood soaking-wet, out of the creek.
I got out and as I peeled my drenched coat off I told them I was wasn’t hurt. Also, it was hard not to help but join them in laughing. It was such a typical episode from me, the person who gets hurt walking around her house by knocking into stationary objects. (i.e., tables, walls, door frames, creeks, etc...) Some people would call this predicament an awesome wipeout, a freshman initiation, and a gift from God that I wasn’t hurt. I am sure many would describe it as beyond hilarious. It was epic, and I won’t ever forget it!
