I grew up loving the warm weather and sunny beaches of southern California. I hate cold weather and love the water. I can't stand wearing anything but sandals and tank tops. But one day in 1997 I strapped into a rented snowboard and fell in love. From that moment on, I spent all my free time, and every earned penny on snowboarding. After two years of being a weekend warrior, I knew that I had to move closer to the snow. Quitting school was never an option so I simply moved my studies to the shores of South Lake Tahoe, (not a bad idea, huh?) but swore it would only be for one year. At that point had anyone told me I would be today where I am now I would never have believed it. But when the next summer ended and it started to get cold, a chilling 75 degrees in San Diego, I moved back. And then I moved back, again. And then I moved back, again, and again.... My parents always told me that it was something I would grow out of, that it was just a phase. And for some time I believed it (which caused me to live it up because I thought it might be over at any time). But now I realize that I'll always be a snowboarder, and that I was a snowboarder long before I ever strapped into that rental that one day in 1997. I just wish it wasn't so dam cold all the time, but hey, it's a small price to pay.