She relished opposition, yet her only real opponents had been the facts of life: gravity, fear and the limits of endurance. She loved snow the way I loved water – so much it hurt. She didn’t want to see snow anymore and most of the time she wouldn’t speak of it. But for the best years of her life, years she believed were gone for keeps, she’d trained to fly over it. That was the simple objective, being airborne, up longer, higher, more casually and with more fuckoff elegance than anyone else in the world.
