My favorite memory of the first time I ever went skiing.

When I was about 2 and had the power-wedge down I couldn’t get enough of the speed factor. One day, I guess I just didn’t feel like going slow anymore. Mom kept yelling at me to slow down and my dad knew the only way I would understand was to learn for myself. So after decreased parental regulation of my speed I let ‘er rip right off the groomed and into the powder, experiencing my first full-out yard sale. I kept it a little more under control after that. That was the beginning of testing my limits I guess…

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