I stood at the top of the mountain in the start gate, leaning over the seemingly never ending slope below me. I could feel the chilled wind nipping at my nose, and seeping through the gaps in my equipment. I saw the sun reflecting off the sheer ice, and I knew this mountain known as Steamboat would pose a challenge. My skis moved back and forth on the icy floor, as if anticipating the upcoming race.  As I stared down the mountain, I felt a sudden blanket of doubt and fear wrap around me like a python. What if I can’t do it, I thought. I’ve fallen before on much easier hills than this like at Marquette mountain, what makes this time different? Could all the race training leading up to this be nothing? Just a wisp in the wind?
The cool, calm voice of the starter interrupted my thoughts. “Racer Ready?” With a quick, shallow breath, I gave a quick nod of the head. I remember back to when I slept in my blue footie pajamas, with my army of stuffed animals to fend off the starving monsters in the dark, and made my dad check the pitch black closet before I laid my head down on my soft pillow to get any sleep. I remember hiding behind my parents when asked to shake someone’s hand, one blue eye peering nervously from behind their legs. I think back to my families Cedar Point trip, when I refused to go on the swinging chairs because I imagined myself slipping under the measly chain that held the rider in place. I remember how nervous I was my first day working at the beach, how scared I was to talk to and meet my co-workers. “Hi,” I would say, struggling to find more words. I think back to the qualifying race, the heavy winds smacking my face, and remember how frightened I was to take the first step down that tremendous hill.
Panic and doubt hit me like a bullet, and I could feel my heart pulsing with every breath. “3.” I looked down the slope once more, studying the icy ground cut with wounds from previous racers. I knew this was proof of a challenging hill, where the ice was so thick you could see the marks from the edges of previous skiers. “2.” I thought about my brother and my parents, counting on me to make it down the hill. I knew I had to give it my all. “1.” Realization of what I had to do slapped me in the face. I remembered the day my dad asked me, “Do you need me to check the closet tonight,” and I replied, “No thanks dad, I’m not afraid of the monsters anymore.” . I remembered watching the rest of my family having so much fun on the swinging chairs, and eventually trying them myself. I thought about overcoming my doubts and taking the steps to apply at the beach. I remembered making it down the seemingly 90 degree icy slope at Marquette, not giving in to the pressure and making it down the hill. I could do this, I thought.
“Go.” Swallowing the little remaining doubt, I threw myself out of the start, gaining confidence with every second on the course. Every gate I thought about all I had done to get here, and why I needed to keep going now. The finish line was in sight now, I could hear the faint cheers. Five gates left I thought to myself, pushing myself harder than before. Before I knew it, I could hear the cheers of the crowd ringing through my ears. But it could’ve been dead silent for all I cared. I had made it, achieved the goal I had worked so hard towards. I popped the bindings on my skis, almost tipping over from exhaustion, and walked out of the finish area with a smile from ear to ear.
During this race I overcame my doubt, and chose to make the most out of my training. If I hadn’t, I know I wouldn’t have made it down that hill. That day, I learned that in order to exceed my own expectations, I have to take the first step, push myself and know that I can do it. When I look at champions or winners now, I see someone that kept going, kept striving to push further, and didn’t let doubt or worry bring them down. Learning this allowed me to continue improving in other aspects of my life such as school, and shaped me into who I am today.