Snowboard Jumps

I bent over and lean my hands on my knees. For a moment, I forget where I am and I am focused only on my panting breath and a slight sting in my legs. I don’t even see the world around me, only a vague blur that is my surroundings in the background of my throbbing pulse. After a few moments, look up from the ground to view what is ahead of me. About fifty yards down the hill from me lies a sharp snowy incline which abruptly vanishes at the top. My brain does some rudimentary calculations of how big it is, how much speed I’ll need when I approach it, and how high it will fling me into the air. I then close my eyes and imagine the journey I am about to take. I focus on how I will need to contort myself before, during and after takeoff to spin and grab correctly and safely. I imagine it over and over and over, like a broken record playing the same clip again and again until my body almost twitches to perform the movement I am ingraining in my mind. Once satisfied, I open my eyes, take a deep breath and exhale. The world around me begins to fade out, and my only focus in life is the jump that lies ahead of me. I can feel individual snowflakes landing on my face, the pressure of a faint breeze against my clothes, and of course, gravity grasping the smooth base of my board, beckoning me to slide. Beyond these simple sensations, I think of nothing. I place trust in myself that I have planned my approach correctly. I take one last deep breath and sharply exhale, releasing a rush of adrenaline, and half a second later I turn my board to face down the hill.

I feel like I’m floating on thin air, falling down the hill in a smooth descent that gradually gets faster and faster. Without even thinking about it, my muscles twitch to move the board over the snow, keeping my pace just right. The smooth ramp that had seemed so small from my previous vantage point now grows larger and larger as I fly towards it. Suddenly, I’m no longer falling. The ground beneath me is pushing me upwards, exerting its force on my knees, defying the motion I’d grown accustomed to over the past few eternal seconds. I am pushed up further and further and my pulse matches the ascent. Briefly the image I had so meticulously envisioned flashes through my mind, and suddenly, the ground falls out from under my feet.

Time slows to a standstill as I become weightless, flying through the air. With my right arm, I reach across my body to grasp the heel edge of my snowboard near the nose, sending me into a corkscrew. I imagine this must be what a helicopter feels like when it’s spiraling to the ground, only without the sense of panic. For what seems like an eternity I am just flying and spinning. In this moment of sheer ecstasy, the whole world has disappeared around me, and I simply fly. Contemplating life’s problems, responsibilities, and troubles is as alien a concept to me as a blind man trying to contemplate color. It’s as if I’ve entered a parallel universe where time has no meaning, gravity is non-existent and mere concept of daily tribulations do not exist. So I float on, spiraling in this momentary nirvana I have found, ten feet above the earth.

But the time has come to return to reality. My eyes refocus on the world spinning around me, and I lock on to features to gain my bearings. I’m about to land, it’s time to let go of the board. As I release it, I focus on the snow conditions where I will land, and slowing my rotation to get me straight on the mountain when I land. Suddenly the ground, as if infuriated by my defiance of gravity slams into my feet and binds me once again to the earth as I glide away.