Sledding, to me, is synonymous with disappointment.

In childhood, as that first winter snow fell, I would look out the window and count down the hours and minutes until I got home so I could beg my dad to take me sledding. Something about it just seems so magical, rolling down a mountain in a giant red chariot and gracefully gliding to the bottom.

Sledding felt so magical, stirring up feelings equivalent to what I can only imagine a reigning king on a thrown feels.

However, as I look back on childhood I cannot help but feel that sledding was not at all that great. This feeling also comes with first-hand knowledge, as I embarrassingly admit, of my re-adventure into the world of sledding about a year ago.

As an 18-year-old going sledding was most definitely not as fun as it was in childhood. That feeling of glory, gliding down that hill covered in beautiful white snow was a fallacy.

In fact, what sledding truly is is a glorified idea. The reality of sledding is not white snow, but semi-gray off-white mush.

There is no gliding down hills, it is bumpy up and downs that most of the time leave you with a weird pain in your butt you kind of need to walk off. The giant red chariot is really just a piece of plastic from Costco that you hope doesn't break on you as you crash to the bottom of the make-shift hill you somehow found near your house.

Yet, if there is one good thing from sledding that has continued since childhood it is the workout of it. Those long walks up and down that hill have given us all enough leg days for a lifetime.

So, this winter season instead of going sledding maybe we should all just stay inside and do what we all do best: binge-watch TV.