rushing by and buses packed to the rafters, I would be sitting on the chairlift enjoying the peace, and tranquillity, observing the beauty of the mountains and breathing in the pure, crisp air. "I can't wait," I muttered to myself as I was sorting out my skiwear, hoping it would still fit.

The days flew by and before I knew it I was waiting for my luggage at the carousel in Vienna airport. As my family and I left the airport to pick up the hire car we all fumbled for our jackets as the cold air tickled our ribcages. As we drove through Vienna we passed lots of grey, smoky factories and industrial estates. Half an hour later I started to question myself," where are the mountains?"

After travelling for an hour and a half south west out of Vienna we finally reached our destination. I rapidly unpacked my bags, threw on my nice warm jacket and snow boots, and left the cosy guest house and headed up the mountain towards the ski slopes. "Wow the snow looks good this year," I yelled as I started to make some snow balls. "Well it couldn't be worse than last year," my mum reminded us all as we started to laugh about skiing in the slush. I looked up into the sky and saw snow clouds forming. The air felt painfully cold I had a feeling that this year was going to be the best for skiing.

After two days of adventurous, furious, fantastic, fast and adrenalin pumping skiing I woke up on the third morning and tried to jump out of bed. I failed! Oh, how my legs ached, would I ever be able to walk again? Once I had levered myself out of bed and shuffled like an old man into the bathroom I put my gear on for another action packed day. "No pain no gain," I mumbled as I convinced my self I could survive for the rest of the week. The rest of the week flew by without any major incidents. The final day had arrived which meant one thing competition time.

I arrived at ski school and had a vest put on. Number 7 it said. "Great my lucky number," I said hoping it would prove me right today. All the skiers set off on the chairlift to the top of the mountain. I eyeballed the course, closed my eyes and visualised myself skiing perfectly from start to finish. opened my eyes to hear my number being called. "Was I going to win...?

I nervously waited for everyone to race. A few fell but, a few skied brilliantly. The results were announced, I had won-just! I'm now a proud owner of a gold medal.

By

Tom Robertson

pictures courtesy of Tom