My parents strapped a pair of plastic skis on my boots when I was two years old and sent me down our driveway in Vail. Of course, they were holding on to me the whole time, but that was my first experience 'skiing.'
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
When I was 3 years old, I thought I was very good at skiing.
I remember skiing being a family recreational thing.
I know my family and I would always go up to the mountains just for fun. We always skied. Then, all of a sudden, my brother started snow boarding. Older brother thing, I had to do what he was doing. So I started snow boarding.
When I was 3, my parents strapped on a pair of Playskool plastic roller skates to my feet, and that's where the story begins.
When I was born, my parents were huge into skiing. I grew up on Mont Blanc, skiing on that hill. I was really a ski baby. Loved it; I still love it.
When I grew up, I had a lot of fun ski racing with my friends. We pushed each other, and this made it easier to work hard.
Luckily, I discovered ice skating when I was eight and a half years old. There were two wonderful ponds within walking distance of my house. After all the physical activity the summer provided, I craved movement in the cold of winter. I had no skates, so Mom stuffed socks into my brother's old ones.
I haven't skied or snowboarded or anything like that.
And, as an adult, I tried skiing, and I ended up in tears.
My parents never pushed me to ski race. It was my choice and something I really wanted to do. I would have rebelled if they had pushed me, and I wouldn't have had the same passion.