When I first started snowboarding, it may have even been the same day I biffed it on the cat track, my sister took me on some pretty crazy runs. She would take me on black diamonds and down the backsides of mountains that weren't even runs, even though I was just a beginner. She would make it down the run unscathed, and I would show up five minutes later absolutely covered in snow. We both loved it. She loved that I was willing, and I would have ended up in the snow no matter which run I went down, making me love the powder of the side runs.
On this day my sister decided we should drop off the side of this run, and I came to follow her. Though the snow was great that day, this run was steep enough that the snow hadn't stuck and it was shallow, bushy, and icy. Once you have started on a run, however, the only way to go is down. Therefore, down we went. My sister went ahead of me, and I was glad because I promptly caught my edge on a bush and went face first, and head downhill into the snow. It was steep enough that I continued to slide downhill with my arms outstretched in front of me. Almost immediately after, my sister fell face first, with her head uphill and arms outstretched.
Ten feet apart we looked like we were reaching for each other as we slid down the mountain. I think I got the worst end of it though. My sister watched as as the snow piled up in my face and went down into my coat. Twenty feet later we stopped sliding and spent the next five minutes laughing and ridding ourselves of the snow.
