Die Alpen (The Alps) in Germany

 

We started the day off early, making our way downstairs to the breakfast room. The guest house in which we would be staying for the next week was quite quaint; resting in the small town of Garmisch-Partenkirchen. I grabbed a hard crusted roll from the center of the table and topped it with butter and strawberry jelly, as I watched my brother pour sugar into his morning coffee. I tried a small triangle of cheese that I had to unwrap from the cold foil surrounding it. The cheese felt as soft as butter as the smooth cream seemed to melt in my mouth as it touched my tongue.

Next I headed back up to my room and began getting ready for the cold mountainous weather. I put on my layers one by one; a pair of skin tight running leggings, wool socks that came midway up my calf, a pair of ankle socks (because one pair of socks is never enough), long-sleeved under-armor, a bright blue 76’ers t-shirt, my Hempfield Girls Soccer sweatshirt, my mother’s black overcoat with green pinstripes (because my father had neglected to pack mine), gloves (which were clearly made for a man much larger than myself), a light grey headband (that left the very end of my earlobes bare), my black patterned “tassel hat” (which my father hates almost as much as chicken), a white scarf with a black and red stripes, and a pair of orange ski goggles that fit securely around my eager face.

My family piled back into our large grey rental car (seating 7 people) and drove 3 doors down to get our ski rentals. I had almost forgotten the anguish of putting on ski boots; latching 4-5 buckles tight enough to make sure you don’t break your ankles but not so tight that you lose circulation.

After driving (what seemed to be aimlessly) down the road, receiving directions in broken English, and following continually changing signs that read words we didn’t understand; we arrived at the Zugspitze. The Zugspitze was the peak of the mountain, the highest point in Germany. A large cable car brought us along a zip-line to the frigid glaciers crowning the top of the Alps.  

The view was breathtaking. The mountaintops were covered with a blankets of crystal snow; a view that nothing but the human eye could do justice. I stepped out into the winter air, as snow crystals blew into my face, their cold sting lighting up my already red cheeks. I anxiously clicked my heels into my skis, resting on my poles for support. It had been nearly 2 years since I had last skied. After undergoing ACL reconstruction surgery last fall, I had been unable to ski that winter; due to the 9 months of intense rehab that followed in recovery of my injury. The anticipation of skiing again made my heart pound inside my chest, both with fear and excitement. I knew the risks that ensued, but they by no means outweighed the emotional high that I had long awaited.

There is something about skiing down a mountain with the frozen wind blowing along your face, that makes it the best feeling in the world. You feel it when the snow flies through the air as you cut into a sharp turn, when your stomach drops as you lift into the air off a jump. It’s experiences like this that make you feel, for lack of a better term, alive.

I sat down next to my father as the ski lift slid in underneath us. I looked out onto the ski run, noticing someone lying at the base of a jump that I was planning to go on myself. I watched them for as long as I could, seemingly motionless until the emergency snowmobile carried them out of sight. I turned my head forward, trying to erase the images I fictionalized of myself with the same fate.

But once I reached the top of the run, I looked out over the horizon and I simply forgot. The earlier thoughts of fear and anguish simply fell out of my head, as I lost myself in the glaciers powerful beauty. The sun peered over the mountain peaks, glistening over everything within its grasp. It was then that I tightened my hands around my poles and turned my gaze to the slope directly ahead of me. I sensed my heart beating faster, this time purely for the thrill, and my head euphorically lost in that feeling that I had infinitely longed for; thinking plainly to myself, this is what it feels like to be alive.

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One response to “Die Alpen (The Alps) in Germany

  1. Hi Kristyn,

    Awesome on you, for exploring at such a young age! As for the 76’ers T shirt, I feel your pain as I’m a Knicks fan lol….big trade for you today though 😉 Thanks for the fab storytelling and keep on conquering your fears!

    Ryan

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