April 2002
Week of April 1, 2002
Waltzing on Asphalt
Artistic inline skating would have intrigued me as a child, and I can imagine a group of neighborhood kids screwing around with rockered inline roller skates on the smoothest driveway on the street. Even as an adult, some of that fascination still captures my imagination. I do not inline skate often, except during the summer. However, I have skated on the basketball court of a nearby park a few times already this spring, usually when school vacations promise havoc in ice rinks that is unworthy of a lengthy commute. With most of the area schools on spring break this week and the rink schedules adjusted accordingly, I decided to skip figure skating in favor of outdoor roller.
I glided across the basketball court, finally experiencing the alleged similarity between rockered inline skating and ice skating. As a beginner on inlines, I have to be careful about becoming overconfident. A set of wheels is not a blade, and asphalt is not ice. Similarities aside, the differences could be devastating for the inexpert. Yet I moved in the same series of turns, steps and crossovers that I use on the ice to prepare for a waltz jump, which is currently the object of my new coach’s disdain. Wheels are unforgiving, allowing far fewer degrees of freedom on the skating surface than an ice blade. Wheels feel stuck to the pavement, inherently preventing the mistake of opening my hips in a deep backward outside edge leading up to the simple waltz. The wheels guaranteed a straight approach, leaving me with the surprisingly formidable task of becoming comfortable with it. I practiced the preparation dozens of times, first only stepping to the forward take-off edge, but ultimately executing the jump. Inline skating helped me to understand my unfortunate error more thoroughly. Hopefully, these drills will translate into improvement on the ice.
My inline waltz jumps are actually not bad, though they are small. I even completed a series of two waltzes in a row. My inline edges have also improved dramatically and I am able to do power-pulls down the length of the court. These are not especially strong, but a distinct change of edge occurs.
Although the bulk of my skating time will remain dedicated to ice, I enjoy improving as an artistic inline skater. In addition to the simple joy of getting better at something, superior inline skills will augment my ice skating practices. Presently, I can only transfer the most fundamental exercises between the two formats. Being able to jump and spin on wheels would provide a worthwhile supplement to my weekly schedule. With this in mind, I plan to replace my wheels with a set that are better suited for artistic skating. The wheels I currently use seem too soft, exaggerating the friction between polymer and asphalt. This essentially precludes any possibility of spinning beyond the most remedial pivot.
Week of April 7, 2002
Sick Days
I have been sick all week and could not have skated even if I wanted to. I had to call my instructor to postpone my lesson then to cancel it entirely when it became painfully obvious that my ailment would not dissolve in a couple of days. I absolutely despise missing good skating sessions, especially if the loss is due to illness. If I am on vacation or investing my time elsewhere, I can accept the compromise, but huddling in front of the television soothing my throat with yet another cup of sugared tea does not rank among worthy trade-offs.
By the time I get back on the ice next week, assuming I feel well enough to skate, I will have been away for over two weeks. I missed last week due to the insanity of spring break crowds, which I have learned from numerous mistakes as an adult skater, are not worth the long commute to the rink. Hopefully all of the corrections Cynthia has attempted to instill in me will not be forgotten, and I can pick up where I left off without further regression.
Week of April 14, 2002
Back on the Ice
By the time I returned to the rink, I had not ice skated for three weeks. The ice actually felt strange under my blades, and I skated several laps to get used to it again. Taking my place on a hockey line, I decided to begin my moves in the field warm-up with basic edges. Pushing off, my right outside edge cut into the ice but slipped at the top of the lobe as I pulled the curve back toward the center line. At this point in my skating career, I can execute edges with my eyes closed under virtually any circumstances. I can even do them on inline skates. A slip was certainly unexpected. The second time I repeated the skill, I skidded again.
Part of my right outside edge had completely worn away. After being off the ice for an extended period of time, I noticed the problem immediately. However, I wondered if this condition had developed gradually and I had been compensating for it. This might explain my recent difficulty centering scratch spins. The deterioration of the edge probably resulted from many forward spins, which are a regular part of my practices.
I decided to ask the manager to sharpen my blades, but could not find him. I had to tolerate a bothersome blade defect for the entire session. Surprisingly, I did not skate especially badly. While I omitted my usually moves patterns, I did some rather outrageous layover and inverted backward camels that garnered admiration from a teenage skater. She actually approached to ask for my advice on the layover, a skill she had worked on without success. How often do axel-endowed teens ask adults how to achieve such a wonderful spinning position? I actually found her sincere inquiry more flattering than the uninformed recreational skater asking if I am a coach.
Although I only managed to ice skate once (and roller skate once in the park), all of my jumps and spins were exactly where I left them, and the only residual effect of nearly two weeks of illness was significantly diminished lung capacity. Hopefully, next week I will get my blades sharpened and build back my conditioning.
Week of April 21, 2002
A Bad Sharpening
I am so stupid. I should know better than this by now. How long have I been skating?
The rink manager sharpened my blades. He said, “Oh, yes, I sharpen figure skates. I’d be happy to sharpen them for you.” So I entrusted him with my skates, cringing with uncertainty as the wheel ground them down.
Ever since my old rink cancelled the adult session, I have not had my blades sharpened. The pro shop I used is conveniently located in the same building. Since I no longer frequent that rink, getting to the pro shop is no longer handy. In fact, it is rather difficult. The shop opens at odd hours and is far from my home, making special trips impractical. This combination of unfavorable circumstances led me to decide to try the services of the rink manager. He seems nice enough and well experienced, though his background is definitely in hockey rather than freestyle. However, a hockey guru used to sharpen my skates regularly and did a very good job. Just because a person is involved with hockey does not necessarily mean he is inept in other areas of skating, though it may qualify as a foolish gamble.
My blades were certainly sharp, but I slipped around on the ice as though I had steel planks strapped to my shoes. The hollow was gone. A concave curve separates the inside and outside edges of an ice skating blade allowing the skater to shift his weight to find one edge or the other. This curvature had been obliterated, and my entire blade seemed to contact the ice. Although he claimed the sharpening was typical for figure skaters, it was probably more characteristic of hockey players. Hockey blades are narrower than freestyle blades and tend to be sharpened with a shallow hollow. Leaning into deep edges is not important in hockey.
When my coach arrived she looked at me in horror. “You didn’t give him your skates?! He should have never told you he could do figure skates.” She went on about how sharpening figure skates is a special skill. Not just any bozo can do it. One bad sharpening can destroy an expensive set of blades. I should know that by now. I have gotten bad sharpenings before. I should avoid unfamiliar people ready to grind my metal into oblivion the way an animal avoids food that previously made it sick.
But alas, I had given the man my precious skates. I planned to ask Cynthia’s opinion but she showed up late, and I was desperate. I had made up my mind to try something new, possibly giving myself a convenient alternative. Wanting to avoid an extra trip to the other rink; I ultimately wasted a session of skating, a few bucks on an unacceptable sharpening, and had to drive to the other rink anyway. What a terrible mistake. I left my skates for their usual treatment and promised to pick them up in a couple of days. Thankfully, the pro said he could fix the botch job and also scolded me for handing them off so casually.
I felt like a complete idiot. On the way home, I roller skated in the park to burn off some frustration. Yes, I keep a pair of roller skates in the trunk of my car. Fortunately, roller skates never need their stupid wheels sharpened!
Lesson learned: Never make convenience a priority where skating equipment is concerned.
Week of April 21, 2002; Part Two
The Continuing Skate Fiasco
As you already know, I allowed the rink manager to sharpen my blades earlier this week. In order to correct his hollowless handiwork, I had to take them to my usual pro shop and leave them for treatment. This cost me a wasted trip and skating session. However, I blame no one but myself for this disaster having made the decision without coercion.
A couple of days later, I drove to the pro shop to pick up my skates before proceeding on to another rink where I planned to skate. Since the shop is rarely open but shares a building with an ice arena complex, patrons typically arrange for their skates to be left for pick-up in an office. I searched the room in vain then inquired at the skating school and front desk. No one knew anything about my skates. Separate companies own the rink and pro shop, so the rink employees do not have a key to the shop. I peered in the store window and saw my skates splayed on the counter. The office manager telephoned the pro on my behalf but got an answering machine. I left a message on the machine and a note at the front desk. She presumed an unreliable fellow who works in the shop probably forgot to deliver the sharpened skates to the office for pick-up. I should not blame the pro for this mistake.
I felt terribly annoyed and helpless to see my skates just out of reach behind a plate of glass, knowing I would have to turn back without skating that day. If I were an unbalanced individual, I might have thrown a brick through the window. Again, I salvaged the long drive by stopping at the park to roller skate a few miles.
Upon arriving home, I found a message from the pro apologizing repeatedly and promising to deposit the skates in the office himself. Sure enough, the skates were waiting for me the next day on the floor of the small room. I gathered them and hurried to the other rink to enjoy a session, the first and only one of the week.
While stretching my muscles at a railing, I monitored the front doors of the arena. No one had arrived yet and the session would probably be rather empty. Then I saw them moving en masse like a swarm of insects. They flowed through the doors as water bursts from a broken dam. Kids. Dozens of them. Two adults led the pack carrying an ice chest between them. The children descended on a bank of lockers like rats fighting for moldy cheese.
I have no lucky whatsoever. This is why I have never bought a lottery ticket and do not bet on horses. Of the three days I tried to skate this week, I got zonked every single time! This last fiasco was partially my fault though. I did not call ahead to find out if any groups had made reservations. As much as I love ice skating, I get tired of being dependent on rinks and crowds and enough adults showing up to hold a session. After a while, it gets a little discouraging.
For the third time this week, a bogus rink journey terminated at the same point: the park. I pulled my roller skates out of the trunk and logged a few miles of exercise. This is why I keep roller skates in my car. A figure skater always needs a “Plan B”. One of the best decisions I have made as an ice skater was investing in a good pair of roller skates.
Tuesday April 30, 2002
Not a Good Thing
Finally back on the ice! I had barely skated for over a month. On freshly and properly sharpened blades, I took to the rink with enthusiasm as well as trepidation. After so long a break, I did not know what to expect. In addition to overall loss of stamina, everything I tried to do was awkward, sloppy and foreign. My skates no longer seemed to be part of my body. Rounding the corner in a series of alternating backward crossovers, my blades clicked together causing a bone-chilling stumble; one from which I recovered without splatting on the ice. There was nothing wrong with my reflexes. I could still save my ass. Out of shape and out of practice, I could not do much of anything, with the bizarre exception of flying camels and inverted camels. These are probably my best and most consistent skills.
Overall, I felt pretty bad about the sorry state of my skating. In addition to the multitude of corrections Cynthia gave me to rectify my bad habits, other moves that used to be acceptable had deteriorated. I struggled through routine moves the in the field and traveled across town in a sit spin. The sit spin really annoyed me. I ordinarily center these within a scant few inches. Spinning and roaming while seated on my Achilles tendon, I rose from the position as my quadriceps buckled, pulled and cramped. Too stubborn to stop, I kept spinning until my right leg refused to accommodate my ridiculous demands.
Making matters worse, one of Cynthia’s students who is old enough to vote but too young to drink and has been skating most of her life, performed a glorious loop jump variation, the very trick I had discussed with Cynthia during our last meeting. The girl exploded into the air, achieving a back sit spin position during a single loop jump. One leg reached straight out in a split-like pose while the other tucked quickly. The collective “oohs and ahhs” of everyone in the rink could have just as easily been heard at a fireworks display. I have wanted that move for years. Finally my loop is big and powerful enough to make it a possibility. I was jealous and a little pissed. That is my move! A silly childish response, yes, but I was feeling down and disgusted. Of course tuck loops have been around since the earliest tank skating shows. I certainly did not own the patent, but did Cynthia really need to teach that stunt to someone else? This made me wonder if I even possessed the potential to do something so awesome.
By the time I left the rink, my body ached all over. My thigh hurt for days from that nasty sit spin. I was terribly frustrated and wondered if I would be able to piece my skating back together and make forward progress again. Since I began to work with Cynthia and discovered the errors of my jumping ways, I have been so mired by corrections that I have not even tried a double. That session was absolutely no fun. I definitely sucked. Sometimes a break from skating is a good thing. This one was not.
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