With the ever so slight shift of my weight forward, I was off. As I successfully completed my first turn, my confidence soared. I didn’t want to go slow anymore – not when this was my first time on a black diamond ski slope. My skis shifted from “pizza” to “french fries” and my wide turns morphed into a straight path down the mountain.
Suddenly I was wrapped in yellow cloth. I looked down to see I had crashed into a sign that was emblazoned “SLOW ZONE.”
