Figure Skating Journal Archive, August 2005

August 2005

Friday August 19, 2005
The Reservoir Loop
I had a very good run today. Conditions were nearly ideal: cool temperature, no wind, overcast sky, light rain. I would not burn, dehydrate, or be consumed by mosquitoes. Now that I am a more accomplished runner, the old neighborhood route that had served as my walking grounds and my beginning jogging circuit is no longer challenging. I would have to run laps around the block which would be too tedious. Personally, I prefer to establish a distinct goal rather than count laps. So I decided to run to the reservoir. My husband bikes to the reservoir and around a loop that a coworker told him is about five miles. He said this is a pretty place, well shaded with only light traffic. Once I ran down the main road, I only saw a couple more cars.
The rain was picking up, but I had hit a comfortable stride and was taking the general uphill grade of the street well. I do not wear a watch when I run because I prefer not to be obsessed with numbers. I run until I am tired, then I run a little bit more, always pushing myself for improved endurance. I have built up to about 2+ miles before I need to stop running. Then I stretch and rest before running another 2+ miles home.
I ran past a beautiful flowing river that forked its way over a cascade of rocks. The reservoir road cuts through a forested watershed area. There are no houses or people to distract my senses from nature. A dead raccoon in the road confirmed that this thoroughfare did indeed go someplace and cars use it regularly enough. The road curved and rolled continuing its upward trend toward the reservoir. I had never taken this path before, but I had set my sights on the reservoir and was going to run all the way to it. In spite of the hilliness of the course, several flat portions allowed me opportunity for active rest, running without expending much energy. On this type of terrain I can achieve maximum distance.
The rain had gotten heavier, but I could smell the distinct odor of a freshwater ecosystem. The reservoir was nearby. I few weeks ago I ran in a torrential rainstorm. My feet were sopping wet, and I squished all the way home. People drove by and looked at me. Obviously not training for an IQ test, I felt embarrassed but kept going. Better to look foolish and strong rather than just foolish. By the time I reached my goal, raindrops were streaming down my face and arms intermingling with sweat. My wet ponytail lay plastered against my back. I felt great. The road detoured at the reservoir. I stopped to stretch under the shelter of a tree the began to walk down the path that cut across to another main street that formed the homeward leg of the loop. I would walk for a while then run the rest of the way home. I planned to jog about five miles.
My husband pulled up alongside me and rolled down the window. “I didn’t expect you to have gone this far.”
That made me feel even better. He had come to retrieve me from the pouring rain. He asked if I had wanted to be rescued from an inevitable soaking. Yes, I was thankful. My shoes would have been drenched soon, making my return trip rather miserable. I had run nonstop for about forty minutes and had covered approximately half of the total distance. Pleased with my performance, I look forward to my next stab at the reservoir loop. My long term goal is to run the entire loop without walking at all.

Week of August 21, 2005
Grand Bahama
I spent the week at a resort in Freeport, Grand Bahama. As a public educator, I do not work during summer months which explains my extensive travel itinerary. After Labor Day, I will return to my career. In the meantime, I am able to enjoy the freedom of a retiree. As August draws to a close, I realize we need money, so the end of the season comes as a mixed blessing. I count myself among the fortunate who truly likes her job. A new school year signals rebirth, touching different lives, and participating in the growth of young people. That may sound like a corny glamorized teacher movie, but once those seemingly miraculous interactions with children happen to you, cynicism melts away and you wonder how you ever did anything else for a living.
Grand Bahama nearly rubs shoulders with Florida, only about fifty miles away, making it (and the Bahamas in general) a wildly popular destination for American vacationers. However, August is an off-time for Bahamian travel. The beginning of the hurricane season, the climate is hot and humid. Thankfully, our resort was air-conditioned, though at check-out, my husband reported we got stuck with a service charge for electricity to run the air conditioning. One would think that expense should be figured into the cost of accommodations. As experienced travelers, we have seen many methods of skimming some extra money from foreigners.
It goes without saying that it was too hot to jog in Freeport, though I saw a few hearty souls in the evening, particularly after the prelude to Hurricane Katrina blew through on her way to Florida. Grand Bahama once had a roller rink, though it never reopened after hurricane damage. Therefore, my exercise consisted entirely of swimming in the hotel pool and in the ocean. We took a wonderful snorkeling trip to Deadman’s Reef and observed an artist’s palette of beautiful fish. My husband even saw a shark, making me incredibly jealous. We also swam at an amazingly untouched beach at Lucaya National Park. The powdery white sand filtered between my toes as I waded out to float and drift among the gentle waves. In the off-season, we shared the place with only about five other people, and there was plenty of room for everyone.
Now I have to get my butt in gear and run off the food I ate in the Bahamas. I have a fabulous tan, need a haircut and a dye job, and am ready for my precious real life to encroach upon my annual freedom once again.

Tuesday August 30, 2005
Finally Skating Again
In the last week of summer vacation, with some time on my hands, I decided to check out a public session that another adult skater told me was pretty good. I had visited this rink once before during an intimidating freestyle session. I never went back. However, I am out of options and wanted to take advantage of my free time.
While stretching in the lobby, a glamorous younger coach waltzed in, signed the register, and disappeared into the area where the serious skaters go. She was beautiful. Though tall, she had a slender figure with the type of willowy bone structure that could not support bulky muscle mass or layers of fat. Her hips were slim, stomach flat, and only a graceful curve hinted of a bustline. She did not have full thighs, a big butt, or heavy boobs; three characteristics that destroy a female skater’s potential. Suddenly self-conscious, I felt ponderous and middle-aged stretching like a young girl while sporting all of the negative traits listed above.
Driving to the rink, I tried to bury a queasy sensation building in my gut. I have barely skated in months. Could I even do anything? I tried not to formulate expectations, positive or negative, yet they teased me as I imagined the familiar freedom of a flying camel or the joy of a big loop jump. I was actually nervous about skating again. I dreaded how crappy I might be. Sometimes a break is good, sometimes it is not.
Only a female speed skater circled the ice, keeping toward the middle, not really using the perimeter. She had a coach with her. I stayed well out of her way. She left plenty of room for me to skate warm-up laps, moves in the field, and dance steps. Skating uses different leg muscles than running, or uses them in different ways. I experienced a pang of soreness in my glutes. After thirty minutes of laps, I was breathing heavily. Anyone who says skating is not aerobic, does not push himself very hard. In fact, I probably took so readily to running/jogging because I was already in shape to skate intensely for two or more hours at a time. And I stayed two hours for this session. The speed girl left after an hour and a mother with a couple of wall-hugging children skated and left rather quickly. I was alone on the ice for nearly an hour.
To assess the damage, I was pretty sloppy, but I could still do the basics, though not as fast or as powerfully. My flip jump has taken a dive into the toilet, and I did not even bother with the loop. However, I centered my first spin perfectly and relished the sensation of rotating without resistance on the smooth luscious ice. My forward camels were not so great, but I probably need a sharpening. Camels are the fussiest of spins to get just right. I forgot the steps for the Fiesta Tango and bungled the Rhythm Blues. The lady with the little kids asked if I learned to skate on lakes as a child. Ignoring years of adulthood private lessons, she was not far off, and I described my sidewalk roller skating roots. Could I really look that dreadful? I far prefer to asked if I competed as a youngster. Now I’ve been demoted to “frozen lake rat”. However, her daughter seemed to think I was fabulous and asked how I do “those tricks” and if I can do a triple. Kids are so sweet and naļve.
What in the hell did I expect? I have barely skated since April. In order to improve or even maintain, one must practice regularly, at least a couple of times per week, the more the merrier. Skates should feel like a natural extension of the body, not a foreign object. I had lost contact with the ice. I need to sort out my skating schedule for the coming season to keep my skills in tact.

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