Win Chandler ’26
Being at the mountain is its own kind of serenity that serenades you in its own simple sounds: the the click of your boots, the zipping of your jacket and the indescribable clap of your skis hitting the snow. The cold settles deep in your chest and makes every breath feel like a refreshing sip of your favorite drink after a long day. You push off and gravity does the talking
Skiing demands a kind of trust and faith that doesn’t come from thinking, but reaction. You lean and continue forward even when all you see is the hill dropping away. Mistakes are expected, the mountain teaches through failure and motion. Falling is brief. Getting up is instant. You correct, push off, and keep moving forward.
High in the mountain, the world simplifies. The sky, endless and pale. Problems fall on the hill and to the to the size of the next run, the next turn, the next breath. Time passes, you forget. You forget everything except balance and speed and the way the snow sprays as you come to a halting stop just reaching the bottom.
Up on the mountain, your mind ad body are disconnected, relying on muscle memory, Fear fades into instinct, and every turn becomes a balance between control and letting go. When you stop, heart racing, you realize the mountain didn’t overwhelm you, it cleared everything else away.