It is the saddest thing, having one's passion that in turn is your death. To have spent one's life doing what they loved most, only to realize, only too late, that it can be a fatal attraction.
But such is the life of a skier. We live for the snow, loving it, chasing it, and creating memories with it. But the word "skiing" always has the word "death" nearby, lurking in the shadows and hidden from sight. Only when it lashes out do we realize of it's presence, and how truly dangerous this sport can be.
This, although, is an tragedy that is striking more and more often, and when one looks at our history, the fine print tells all. Gone are the days when one would look at cliffs and think, "I could never do something like that." Now the phrase is, "I wonder who has hit that feature yet?" Skiing has been infected with the progression bug, for good and for bad. This progression has pushed us to the boundaries of what we can do, and how much we can defy death itself. For the most part, we are winning, but death always has a way of bringing back reality, to remind that in the end we are still human. Whether it be in the form of a fall, or an avalanche, he is always there, always lurking.
But never does it stop us from doing what we love. For as long as the snow falls, we will follow it, hike it, land in it, and ride through it, because we know for all the danger, it's worth it. We will continue to push the limits of our abilities, and to show ourselves that "Yes we can do it." Sarah was yet another example of this, how a women can have the fire in her heart to do what she has always loved, and to push the limits of what she could do. But death is always there, and it is with great sadness that she became his next victim.
And that, is how skiing will always be, a word of great happiness and joy, but one that is never without the word "death." Her death is another example of how short life is. Sarah will be missed, but we can ride on, for her.
