It has been my family who've supported and nurtured my passion for skiing. Who've dragged a grumpy teenager onto the piste when equally tired and achy from a weeks skiing. 
My Mum, who booked me unwillingly onto gym classes, entered me into races and woken me at 6am to go swimming. All in an attempt to boost my fitness and endurance for training and teaching. 
My Dad, who's worked so hard to pay for ski holidays, ski lessons, ski boots, new bindings. No matter how much my dreams have cost he's slaved to enusure I've had everything I need for such an expensive career. 
My brother Pace, who's sarcasm, and 'motivational speeches' have lightened the toughest physical experiences. Who's cheered at the sidelines as I run, who's joined me in the plank position and laughed as I drip with sweat. Who's been dragged to Zumba, and forced to dance with a room full of excitable women. 
I hadn't anticipated feeling like this. With three weeks to go, I feel greatly nostalgic remembering many happy memories of childhood. Coming of age and gaining new responsibilities is rather odd. I have many exciting adventures ahead of me, however don't want to give up my happy past. 
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