I jammed my poles into the snow and leaned far out over my skis, as I'd seen done on television. And with a kick, I launched myself onto the steepest part of the hill.
Nearly straight down, slight curve to the left, and, uh, oh. I found myself with a choice of “targets”: a small grove of fir trees to the left, a huge rock to the right, and a family of deer straight ahead. Stopping was not an option, so I had to decide fast. And let me tell you something. Fir trees aren't as soft as they look.
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