I was on the first lap of the brutal course with rolling hills, winding turns, bumpy flats, and almost vertical downhills. I was going 25 mph, and of course, this was the one time I decided to ski without my shirt in just my sports bra.

On the “S” turn, the steepest and most difficult corner, a rock got stuck in my wheel and sent me flying. It felt like I was on a cheese grater. My skin was ripped off and left behind to burn on the scorching hot pavement. I slid for about 20 feet before coming to stop in the bushes. I remember the feeling all too well. Like a punch to the face, all at once, my body started burning up. The open wounds were exposed to the sun, causing them to broil and bleed. A slime-like substances was oozing out of them. I screeched, screamed, shrieked, but it did not help.

Knowing I had no other option, I got up and started skiing again. Every time I planted my pole, extended my legs, and twisted my body, I could feel my flesh ripping. Looking down I saw the trail of blood that I was leaving behind. Nevertheless, I finished the race, with many tears and my clothes in shreds. Little did I know that the worst part was yet to come.

When my mother cleaned the wounds, I experienced pain like never before. The feeling is impossible to describe. I have never hurt so much in my life. It was like an acupuncturist gone wild, attacking my body. She poured cold hydrogen peroxide on the hot, oozing, bloody open flesh. I stood over the shower, gripping the curtain, and screaming like a lunatic (which alerted our neighbor to come over to check on me). Those were the worst hours of my life.

To this day, over eight months later, I still have not recovered. Every time I look down at my knees, I am reminded of what happened that day. It was my first crash roller skiing, but instead of giving up, it inspired me to keep going. I now know what true pain feels like, and I am not afraid of it anymore.