Stephanie, Vijay and several other adult skaters were interested in the competition and asked me to participate. Willa insisted I would have time to put together a ninety-second program for the “no-axel” category. Although Randall and his wife concocted the adult event as an afterthought, they were surprised by the number of applications from adult skaters the Martinsville club received from neighboring states and cities. Randall divided the adults into three categories: basic skills, freestyle “no axel”, and freestyle with axels and/or double jumps. He further subdivided the competitors based on age. Since adult skating was a relatively new sport, many recreational competitions did not offer separate events specifically for adults. Adult testing was also a fledgling concept, and adults often took the same standard track or recreational tests as children. In fact, many adults who chose not to take skating tests were interested in trying a competition for personal enjoyment rather than competitive zeal. Older skaters often avoided competitions because they would be grouped with children of similar ability, usually very young children, which made many mature athletes uncomfortable. Randall’s loose skill and age categories were ideal for the new sport of adult figure skating and its adventuresome participants.
I juggled my budget to accommodate one twenty-minute lesson every week, which actually increased my monthly intake of skating instruction. While preparing for Skate Martinsville, I bought absolutely nothing frivolous and ate very cheaply. As a student, I was already used to a spare lifestyle, and these skating lessons were a luxury worthy of sacrificing a beer or two on Friday nights.
Willa evaluated my repertoire and crafted only the finest items into a minute-and-a-half masterpiece. Although my jumps were not the stellar leaps achieved by Vijay or even the precisely controlled hops executed by Stephanie, Willa insisted upon including three jumps in the program. Her first two choices were obvious: the salchow and waltz jump, my two best jumps. I could do these on roller skates in the garage as a young teen. For the third, she sifted through the other half jumps I had worked on sporadically, finally choosing the ballet jump, a half-revolution skip achieving an airborne attitude position for a nanosecond. While I could do the half-flip and half-lutz; they were tentative, questionable skills. Willa disregarded my clumsy mazurka without further comment. She had begun to work with me on the toe loop, starting with a half rotation version that I did fairly well. However, the coach decided against this jump because a standard toe loop is already considered so rudimentary that including its forebearer would lead the judges to doubt my competence.
Unfortunately, ninety seconds was not enough time to include all of my spins and the three sad jump candidates while peppering the choreography with edges and turns. She watched each spin critically and selected the layback, sit and scratch. Willa tried to teach me to rise from the sit spin and change to a backward upright spin, but I simply could not master the pushed transition and did not have time to experiment with it. Including a backspin would balance the technical content, but Willa knew my dirty inside edge rotation secret. She assumed the judges would be astute enough to catch it also. Better to include three more difficult spins that I could perform well than an incorrectly edged backspin.
The next week, Willa brought a tape of classical music and danced through my program steps in exquisite demonstration. The routine looked beautiful when she interpretted it. Lovely flowing edges led into each glorious spin and simple jump. Willa’s waltz jump and ballet hop mixed gracefully with the turns and spirals. She struck attractive poses and landed the jumps neatly. We walked through the choreography side-by-side. Steps that I could do easily as isolated elements became infinitely more difficult when strung together as a series of movements, each one supposedly performed in harmonious context. Even the most basic step from backward to forward, if executed counterclockwise, seemed as uncomfortable and challenging as the highlight skills. If I fell in this program it would not be landing my salchow, it would be in an awkward step from backward to forward or vice versa. I pleaded with Willa to change all of the transitions to clockwise, but she refused.
“Everything in your program turns clockwise. At least you should show the judges that you can skate the opposite direction.”
I opened my mouth to argue that this was not an Olympic qualifying event and who really cared if a twenty-seven year old graduate student could step from a backward inside to a forward outside edge counterclockwise? Willa obviously did and she believed the judging panel would too. And I supposedly should since I bothered to enter this competition and invest in extra lessons. At least I could vary my turning patterns to increase the technical content, in the absence of a backspin and more difficult full rotation jumps.
Surviving the cumbersome steps only amounted to a small fraction of my problem with this new skating endeavor. After ninety seconds of what felt like breakneck skating, I was completely exhausted. My legs became heavy midway through the number, as though they had filled with lactic acid. I could barely kick my trailing leg to achieve a decent ballet jump. I nearly collapsed into the final scratch spin, bending acutely at the waist as I entered the maneuver. My leg ached too severely to bend deeply at the knee and pop into the spin. This castrated a normally strong element, reducing it to a beginner’s weak one-foot spin. Already dead tired, the exertion of that final pirouette made me nauseous. I felt like I had to lie down or throw up as I jabbed my toe pick into the ice, dramatically concluding the performance.
I thought I was in good shape since I skated two-hour sessions at least three times per week. My “no axel” program was rude awakening. Desperate to make a good showing at the competition, I asked Willa how to improve my conditioning. She suggested riding my exercise bicycle in two-minute power spurts alternating with five minutes of even paced pedaling. I should do this for fifteen to twenty minutes per day or more, especially on days when I could not get to the rink. I set up the bike in our small living room and rode it when Gwen was not home. I did want her to see me sweating and struggling, thus inviting jokes about training for the Olympics.
Gwen enjoyed running and could jog for miles. She had been a track athlete as a prep school student and maintained distance running as a hobby, source of exercise, and stress release. She invited me to join her, and I found that I could barely run for a couple of minutes, consistent with my program difficulties. On non-skating days, I often included interspersed jogging and brisk walking in my training regimen. These exercises, in addition to regular ice skating, helped to reduce tension from my research and interaction with Dr. Butler. It also gradually improved my program endurance.
Ninety seconds may sound like a fleeting instant, but it tests the stamina of greenhorn adult figure skaters. Other adults in Martinsville were similarly challenged and had taken up aerobics, swimming, jogging and other exercises to improve their cardiovascular health for the sake of their first competitive experiences. A brief two minute stint can transform into an eternity while pedaling a stationary bicycle and waiting for the time display digits to change on a VCR. No matter how interesting the television program intended to distract an athlete from the tedium of her task, it is always more pleasant to watch while sitting idly on the couch.
I placed my cassette on the barrier, in line for the tape player. Adult night now abounded with mature skaters eager to practice programs for Skate Martinsville. Of course, many adult skaters chose not to compete, but with the summer over, fewer recreational boot renters circled the perimeter. Adult sessions had become a forum for serious training. We adopted the customs used in general freestyle sessions, taking turns with the cassette player and yielding to the program skater. On more crowded evenings, Willa brought out a bright orange vest that the program skater donned before striking his opening pose. This neon garment drew the attention of everyone in the rink to the skater whose music was playing. After dodging out of Vijay’s and Stephanie’s paths for months, I enjoyed the luxury of being the exalted program skater. I also realized the value of this convention. Every skater was entitled to one complete run-through with music each hour, which only amounted to two rehearsals per evening. If someone happened to be in my path by accident or ignorance, it interrupted my practice and the flow of my program often requiring omission of an element or veering off suddenly and squeezing the skill in under non-ideal conditions. In spite of courtesy and etiquette, a perfect run-through was a rarity. Human obstacles only accounted for part of the problem. More often the skater makes a mistake disrupting the integrity of his own performance.
When Vijay and Stephanie were not wearing the road crew vest, they worked on axels and other elements. Vijay approached the task with enthusiasm and determination, casting his body to the four winds. Stephanie warmed up with unusual waltz jumps. Instead of throwing a straight leg forward into the jump, she thrust a bent knee upward, mimicking the motion of an axel. Apparently, working toward the axel had improved Stephanie’s more fundamental skills. Her waltz jumps had grown impressively and she executed them with vigor that was absent in her Summer Gala performance. She had begun to attempt a complete axel, stepping up and spinning tightly, often hunched over to pull herself deliberately into the rotation. A stooped air position is a common bad habit developed by adults learning the axel. Balling up one’s body is a natural reaction to the need to rotate quickly. It is also a fear reflex associated with throwing one’s self into the air with little hope of a correct landing. However, stooping does not increase rotational velocity. Standing straight with body mass distributed evenly around the axis of rotation is the most efficient means of achieving those elusive aerial turns.
Fearless Vijay did not crouch in the air. His body remained straight and exposed to potential danger. To his credit, Vijay committed to every jump. He skated aggressively and leaped into the air as though falling were not an option, but he fell often, slipping off his landing edge and sliding across the ice on his hindquarters. He also two-footed many efforts, which was not necessarily an improvement over a fall. Landing on one foot but being unable to check out can be better than a two-footed landing that manages to stay upright. The one-footed variety may indicate that the skater found his rotational axis, while the salvaged bipedal example generally suggests the correct axis was never achieved.
He set a goal to enter the “axel” category at Skate Martinsville and devoted himself wholeheartedly to getting the axel jump before Randall scheduled the competitive groups. Other than the basic skills category, which was reserved for beginning skaters who could do little more than stroking, crossovers and a few turns; the freestyle competitors were essentially divided into those who have the axel and those who do not. Vijay wanted to be a “have”. Stephanie viewed the axel as a long-term ambition, and I only fantasized about it. For the time being, we were “have nots”.
My music filtered through the loud speakers for a second run-through toward the end of the session. Weary but better trained from off-ice conditioning, I stepped forcefully into my final scratch spin, popped off the toe pick and drove my free leg down to generate exhilarating speed. Satisfied with the cohesiveness of this rehearsal, I jabbed the ice with my toe pick, stopping the spin and hitting a pose that might be executed by an elite skater after the performance of his life.
“Good job, Kate,” Stephanie congratulated crossing to her starting position.
My friend had changed from legging shorts, tights and a T-shirt into a dazzling teal skating dress. The crushed velvet shimmered as Stephanie moved, and matching stretch lace formed sheer front and back neckline yokes adding a touch of glamour. Her décolletage sparkled with jewel toned appliques making the costume formal for competition. Stephanie had ordered this frock from a catalog and decided to test it in an early dress rehearsal. Had the leotard torn or pulled, she would have had time for simple alterations before the big event.
As I stood by the boards gathering my breath, I watched Stephanie circle the ice in the lovely dress. Although Stephanie’s baseline skills had improved, her performance seemed more captivating in a swirl of tourmaline velvet. How I would have loved a glittery costume like that! Skating in a pretty dress with a swingy skirt was like running through the house as a young girl with your mother’s bridal veil billowing around your shoulders. Whether you actually looked ethereal or ridiculous was irrelevant, you certainly felt like princess fluttering through an enchanted fairyland. Single-mindedly building stamina to perform my program, I had forgotten about appropriate apparel. My father had gotten rid of the simple skating leotard I made as a high school student, not that I would have considered wearing that homespun concoction. I could not afford to order my own sumptuous skating dress; although, I thought about charging it and paying for it gradually. Sewing a garment for myself seemed like the only reasonable alternative.
I hurried from the parking lot and across campus to the Human Sciences building. Gwen was probably already in the laboratory perched on my desk, drawing unwanted attention to my absence. We had planned to meet for lunch and I promised to show her the fabric I sneaked out to buy for my skating costume. Common sense had steered me away from costly, impractical fabrics. Considering my summer vacation, new apartment expenses, and extra skating lessons; I was essentially broke. In fact, Gwen and I had packed our lunches and planned to eat together on a bench outside the building.
Entering the laboratory, I was greeted by Gwen’s playful voice. “It appears you have an admirer,” she began jumping off the desk to reveal the bouquet of roses previously hidden behind her. “They’re lovely!” my roommate continued, theatrically sniffing a sculpted red blossom.
Rather than immediately trying to imagine who could have sent such a wonderful gift, I realized how few times I had received flowers in my life, especially the delivered variety. My first beau, Jonathan, picked wildflowers for me a couple of times. We were such silly young kids without a dollar or an ounce of prudence between us. Mohammed often shoved a flower or other cheap offering in my face to crawl back into my good graces. Devin was a poor college student and later struggling to establish himself professionally. While he loved me dearly at the time, he had too many financial burdens to waste money on something that would die anyway. He did give me potted plants from the landscape nursery that he saved from certain death when they looked sickly in the yard. Devin was a resourceful fellow, if not a frivolous romantic. Friends rarely exchanged flowers, and my family was not hopelessly emotional. But it was my twenty-seventh birthday in a couple of days, and someone had purchased these fragrant blooms.
With a couple of paychecks in the bank, I approached Willa for lessons again. I had heard about a competition that Randall had sanctioned at the Martinsville Community Arena for November. He realized even the lower level athletes required more competitive experience, preferably close to home where travel expenses could be minimized. Children may have less difficulty mastering basic elements of figure skating than adults, but they still succumb to nerves during performance. Experience contributes to overcoming this dilemma. Families of beginning competitive skaters can incur tremendous expense ferrying their children from competition to competition during the fall and winter months. Many venues are far from the child’s home rink and require overnight accommodations to participate in practices and competitive rounds. Skate Martinsville would offer local athletes a competitive opportunity for a minimal investment. Randall sent invitations to all of the figure skating clubs in the region, hoping to entice an interesting array of talent to challenge his students. Throwing out a worm on a hook to see if anything would bite, he opened to invitation to adults.
Chapter 39 posted 10/2/01
The content of this site is copyright by K. J. N., 1999 - 2001