Continuation of reading week

Skiing

It's whizzing down a hill at i-don't-know-how-many miles per hour. My legs turning and moving on their own determinedly down the hill, is this freedom? Me paralell skiing down the mountain with all my might. Swooshing to the left and right, just the elements and me, as one against nature, my knees trying hard to not to buckle and shake and the hills keep coming, up and down up and down, there is no stopping now as i speed down the hill, desperately edging between fear and exhileration, i feel my adrenaline pumping , as I try not to let myself fall or roll down the mountain. I am here. I am Free.

I love skiing, almost as much as riding i think. But no, nothing can ever trump the feeling of riding. It is my passion, my yearning, the thing that sinks so deeply into your soul that it is forever embedded there. It is pull like gravity, that's the only way I can describle, a deep longing and ache for the chance to ride again.
The feeling of your legs pressing against your horses' sides, your hands confidently holding the reins, just you and your horse. Then galloping or running freely up the hills, you in forward position, crouched low over the saddle, your hands buried in his mane, as you feel the power beneath you, all you can hear is the sound of the wind wooshing past you, you could be fearful of losing control of this momement, but what you have to do is simply Go. With. It. Race against the wind, erase your fear, this is magic there is no other feeling like this in the world. Your heart races, but you do not fear. This is power, this is grace, this is beauty, captured.

How i miss this.

11:44 AM ·