The cold air fills your lungs and the snow blows up around you. From the top of a peak, you look down on an ocean of white. Setting your sights on the far run below, you jump up and tear out into the white sea. Swishing this way and that into the cold powder, you come alive hitting bumps and taking the air like an unguided missile. You crash down with a crunch and cut through the layers of frozen covering as you head for the valley below. With the anticipation of a child on Christmas morning, you feel the wonderful delight as you finish your run. Then you look back over the land and see the trail you blazed, then you inhale the thick richness of the cold air and head back up the mountain with anticipation of doing it again.