The morning for our snowmobiling   adventure finally arrived, and we set off on the hour-and-a-half drive to the resort . A fresh powder had fallen the night before, and everything was frosted white. We couldn't have asked for more perfect conditions. The sun sparkled on the snow, and the trails   were completely empty - not another person or snowmobile in sight. We were thrilled at being the only people for miles around until we got going. As we drove through the deserted wilderness, my excitement became stone-cold fear. I had no idea what I was afraid of, or why I was afraid, but suddenly every turn, every hill, every steep   side of the mountain frightened me to death. I kept imagine us crashing headlong into a tree or falling off the side of a drop. But after lunch things changed. We were the only humans who had been there since the snowfall. The peaceful place, the incredible beauty of the landscape, and the almost sacred experience of sharing a mountain with the wildlife touched my very core  .  My mind cleared and quieted and my muscles relaxed. As we drove the last leg of the run, I began to _ being afraid to drive. Deep down, I wanted to be in charge of the thing that scared me. It made me angry that fear was keeping me from something I really wanted to do. The day was coming to an end, and the resort was only a few miles away. I knew that if I didn't take my chance now, I would regret it. I signaled for my husband to pull over. I wanted to drive, although my heart pounded  . I started off slowly and felt the wind in my face. I smiled and sped up a little. With a "Yee-haw!" I went full out, taking my husband on the best ride of the day. We ended the day on that breathless, carefree note, and I felt proud of myself - proud of overcoming my fear. According to the article, after lunch the author   _  .
gradually calmed down stopped to enjoy the beautiful scenery saw some wildlife on the mountain was afraid to continue her journey