As a kid, I always had a fascination for climbing to the top of things and leaping off. I wanted to fly through the sky, flipping around, and land softly on the ground. It seems only right that BASE jumping easily found a place in the semi-organized chaos that is my mind. The progression seemed natural enough; learn to climb, learn to jump, learn to fly. As I got older, it seemed the general consensus was that to fly, one either needed a plane or a parachute. Being a broke 21 year old, the latter seemed easier (financially) to approach. 

​A few hundred jumps later, I would find myself on my back at the bottom of a canyon, with friends around me telling me to stay still and that help was on the way. I didn't know it yet, but that day would significantly alter my future. My plans changed in an instant, but my heart stayed the same. It told me that there was still adventure to be had, if I dared to look for it again. 

​The accident had left me with an incomplete Spinal Cord Injury. More accurately, L5 peripheral nerve damage. This nerve group is responsible for activating the lower extremity muscles, which include the glutes, hamstrings, calves, and anterior tibialis (responsible for lifting the foot upward). For me this meant that my legs were very weak, and I had to re-learn to walk. To this day, I do so with assistance from a cane and an AFO brace to keep my left foot from dangling and potentially tripping me as I walk. 

​Sit-skiing started for me as a way to engage in physical activity with my friends. After my accident, I had a hard time keeping up with anyone. I walked really slowly, and I was always overly conscious of this. I have an amazingly supportive family and wonderful friends, but I felt guilty, as if being slow was an inconvenience to them. But when I got on a sitski at the hill, I was able to keep up with them or at least not have them wait on me for so long. This quickly flipped around, and I became the one waiting on them! It felt amazing, like I had finally found a place that I fit in. I belonged on the snow. 

​It wasn't very long before the voice of adventure started to speak more loudly. I began to wonder if I could jump the side hits. This turned into exploration in the terrain park, where I felt right at home. I was able to push myself in ways that I wasn't sure were possible for me anymore post-accident. I began to build confidence, and that confidence led to progression. I skied daily, and every day I sought to be better than I was the day before. I was trying new tricks, and doing things that had never been done. Not just by myself, but by any sit-skier. I found new heights, and raised my ceiling with each rotation that I added to my repertoire. Thus began my mission: share this with everyone, and together we can create a new sport.