It was the winter of 2012, and I was eight-years-old. It was my first ski race on a new racing team. I felt both nervous and excited. I was scared of falling on the slippery course. The butterflies danced in my stomach at record speed.

My eyes narrowed as I surveyed the scene. An icy terrain filled with looming obstacles. I would have to fly through the track, while dodging the gates, without falling. With renewed determination I got ready to race.

“3, 2, 1, GO!” I flew out of the starting gate and whooshed down the hill. All of my energy was put into staying upright. The slick ice wrapped around my ankles, threatening to pull me down. Just a few more gates… “And Eliora finished with a time of…”

I didn’t hear the rest. I couldn’t believe that I had managed to not fall. In a daze I took off my bib and walked to the lodge to warm up with hot cocoa and wait for the awards ceremony to start.

When the ceremony began I waited anxiously. My friend received tenth place, and I was ecstatic for her! When they got to third place, I thought they had forgotten about me. But then they called, “First place…Eliora!” I couldn’t believe my ears. My mom said, “Eliora, that’s you,” and pushed me up toward the podium.

I received my first place medal, and I smiled joyfully for a picture. Then, I turned around and saw my friend coming toward me. "Oh no," I thought, 'What will she say?" I had been so happy, that I hadn’t thought about that. What if she was mad that I got first place? Thankfully, she was just as happy and excited as I was.

The rest of the day was a blur of fun, happiness, smiles, hugs, and laughter. I don’t remember much about any of the races before and after that one, but I will always remember the feeling of hope and pride that I felt when I won.