Figure Skating Journal, Reflections of an Adult Figure Skater

February 2001

Week of February 5, 2001
Pre-Juvenile Moves in the Field

My vacation from axels offers plentiful free time to work on moves in the field (MITF), which I previously considered a tedious and insurmountable obstacle to progress. Weeks before deciding to take a break from axel falls, I decided to increase my MITF practice time, investing at least a half-hour per session. Results followed, if not instantly. I also began to enjoy the moves. In an effort to make preliminary MITF seem easier, my coach taught me the pre-juvenile patterns. This approach has served its purpose. Additionally, I find the pre-juvenile skills more interesting than their predecessors and spend more time with MITF training.

Forward Perimeter Power Crossover Stroking
I have used this move as a warm-up exercise for a couple of years. I do it fast and competently. Instead of worrying about falling or missing an edge, I concentrate on stretching my legs and pointing my toes. I enjoy polishing a skill rather than simply tackling it.

Backward Perimeter Power Crossover Stroking
This move is fun. I have also done it for a long time. It can always be faster and more beautiful, but it’s already rather good. No toe pick noises at all; only edges grinding as they draw power from the ice.

Three-Turns in the Field (Forward Outside to Backward Inside)
This skill will prevent me from testing pre-juvenile indefinitely. I despise the backward inside (BI) three-turns, although a RBI3 is required for a traveling camel, which undoubted explains my prolonged incompetence with that element. Geoff suggested I work on all of the backward three-turn moves on the hockey line before taking them to the length of the arena. The line helps me to place the lobe and the turn. At first I worked on these begrudgingly, catching my blades and giving myself several unpleasant adrenaline rushes. As much as I hate axel falls, they are less dangerous (in my opinion) than an unexpected edge trip that can land a skater on his knee, head or tailbone.

With ample time to experiment, I have devised a new and effective training exercise that has improved these horrible turns to the point that I no longer fear them. On the hockey line, I perform a right forward outside three turn (RFO3) as if starting a set of alternating three turns from the preliminary MITF test. Instead of executing a LFO3 next, I substitute a LBI edge borrowed from the pre-preliminary test and follow it with another RFO3 and so on. Two benefits are immediately achieved through this drill. First, the skater makes the transition easily and comfortably knowing she does not have to try a back inside three-turn. Instead, she can develop the correct pattern and lobe size. Second, the skater avoids rocking forward onto the toe pick during the backward edge. Fear of the impending three-turn can cause the skater to break with the toe pick and force the turn on the toe, which is rarely successful and never correct.

After a few sets of forward outside three-turns coupled with back inside edges, the skater is prepared to attempt the BI3 turns. The freshness of the prerequisite exercise helps the student to cut a proper back inside edge leading into the three-turn. Comfortably riding the edge, she can rock toward the back of her blade, completing the turn near the heel.

I am not an expert at this yet, and probably will not be until some time next year (or the year after). My turns are still slow, often sloppy, and I require a lengthy warm-up.

Three-Turns in the Field (Forward Inside to Backward Outside)
This move is not nearly as difficult as its counterpart. I have been able to do LBO3 turns for years and could do them as a kid on roller skates. Counterclockwise RBO3 turns are less facile, but not daunting. I readily lift the front of my blade and guide the heel turn with a confident free leg. Dementedly, I find these somewhat fun.

Forward and Backward Power Change of Edge Pulls
I admit it. I love these. I learned the forward variants shortly after beginning to skate as an adult. Several years ago, while skating at an outdoor rink, a man noticed my forward power pulls and teased me that I could not do them into the wind. He was probably flirting, but I accepted the challenge. Not only could I do them with the wind blowing in my face, I overcame its resistance and built speed. Unfortunately, I was never good at the backward variety. That has changed. I am a much stronger skater now, and a few weeks of practice has converted clumsy backward power pulls into a smooth, swinging slalom.

Five Step Mohawk Sequence
I love this pattern. I circumnavigate the rink in these simple steps grinning like a happy idiot. The five step mohawk sequence has made me consider taking ice dance lessons. My coach will probably have a coronary. As a competitor he was forced to learn ice dance, though that was not his competitive focus. He hated it, as he hated school figures. Since I am an obsessed spinner and proficient single jumper, he will wonder if I am abandoning these skills to prance around the rink in restrictive patterns. Of course, I will never give up freestyle for so long as my knees can tolerate the pounding. However, I would like to learn a few graceful dances, potentially incorporating their steps into my improvised “routines”, punctuating them with laybacks and loop jumps.

Of course, this dance fetish might just be a temporary condition.


Week of February 12, 2001
Spin Gallery

forward scratch spinI write often about my love of spinning. While my photo gallery is full of pictures capturing me in several spins over the last few years, none of them relay my actual ability. Simply standing in a position does not mean the spin is fast or centered. Since I am presently unequipped to add video files to this web site, I have decided to communicate my spinning aptitude by taking photographs of my tracings on the ice. These give a more accurate description of the quality of my spins. The overlay of each rotation atop the other obscuring the actual number of turns offers evidence for centering and power. The spray of snow around the tracing indicates the speed of the spin and the force with which the blade cut the ice, as shown in this basic forward scratch spin etching (right).

forward attitude spin Not all of my spins are beautifully centered. I have days when they travel all over the rink. Fortunately, those days are few. I typically warm up with a variation of an attitude spin, which usually centers very well. This image (left) illustrates the right forward outside three-turn (RFO3), initiating a clockwise attitude spin. In the best spins the three-turn is obliterated by subsequent rotations that occur directly over it. However, this effort is not miserable considering it is one of the first spins performed on a two-hour session.

A single rotation of travel separates the initiating three-turn from the body of the spin in this example (below) of a forward sit spin. This error ordinarily occurs in camel spins as I slip off the inside edge after hooking the three-turn. It reminds me like an alarm clock that it is time for a blade sharpening. In spite of a loop of travel, this sit spin created a small diameter circle. Even if I miss a rotation or two, I can usually salvage all but the worst attempts. A few turns of imprecision are common even in the highest levels of competition.

forward sit spin with travel

forward sit spin with scratch spin finishThis forward sit-scratch spin (right) centered immediately. The initial three-turn has vanished beneath layers of rotational tracings, although the scratch spin finish deviated slightly from the original focal point. The body position required for forward and backward sit spins distributes mass efficiently around the rotational axis, favoring the tightest revolutions.

Backward camels tend to produce larger circular etchings than their forward counterparts. The extended body posture coupled with outside edge rotation yields a relatively large turning circumference. Forward camels performed on an outside edge also leave larger dinner plate marks on the ice than the inside edge variants. This backward camel (below) is offset from its initiating LFI3, however an excellent center was achieved. I combined this spin with a forward sit, practicing my backward to forward spin combinations. From the transition to a forward sit, I have difficulty attaining a deeply seated position. With practice, the quality of the position will equal the accuracy of the center. It is not possible to detect two separate spins in this picture.

back camel forward sit

two foot spinThe last picture shows a well-centered two-foot spin, a requirement on the USFSA Pre-Bronze adult freestyle test. I have decided to take this test because testing makes me nervous, and I need an ego boost before judges scrutinize my preliminarily moves in the field. The key to a good two-foot spin is a wide sweep of the foot that is usually unemployed in one-foot spins. This technique resembles a backward to forward spin transition. Therefore, it has value as a training exercise for more advanced skills.
A digital camera is must for every skater’s equipment case! No more fish stories about the gorgeous center that got away.


Week of February 19, 2001
Cheaper than Therapy

Needing a reprieve from issues that cluttered my mind, I drove to a public session knowing it would be crowded. I consider myself fortunate because I really have no serious problems, but no one is immune from occasionally feeling bogged down or stressed out. Exercise provides relief from these moods. Skating is particularly effective because it requires careful concentration and allows freedom of artistic expression.

Orange traffic pylons provided a safe haven for lessons and figure skating in the middle of the arena. A few other adults struggled to fit their moves in the field patterns between the random activity of public skaters. One especially diligent woman managed to negotiate a path through the crowd with her evenly paced three-turns and edges. Another adult stepped through waltz jumps holding hands with an instructor. Children attempted remedial spins in the center. When a space opened, I glided into it eagerly setting up a spin. I did not dare to attempt a camel or flying spin under these cramped conditions for fear of hitting someone. My spins amounted to little more than a left forward inside three-turn preparation taken from a stand still into an upright or sit spin. Remarkably, most of these centered well, although claustrophobia limited their power.

I do not skate my best in a crowded rink, partially because I am dependent on an extensive warm up routine of stroking and moves that numerous human obstacles essentially precludes. Space restrictions prevent appropriate entrance steps leading into jumps limiting their height and distance. I find myself spinning in a few square feet of a traffic coned Stonehenge, all the while avoiding other people trying to do the same. Between stationary spins, I stopped to take a breath. Two young boys chased each other around reserved zone’s periphery. Out of control, one of them dove into an orange cone, sliding several yards across the ice. Looking down at the tiny form splayed at my feet, I thought nonchalantly: “Good thing I wasn’t spinning.” The kid would have knocked my blades out from under me. If my mind were not already preoccupied, this behavior certainly would have been irritating. Another adult skater shook her head in exasperation as the two little monsters continued their reckless activity. She warned the children to stop fooling around.

For a few dollars I skated for an hour completing some spins, moves in the field, and even managing to land several basic jumps whenever an opening appeared. My skating would never improve if I had to practice on these sessions exclusively, but for one precious hour, my mind cleared and I enjoyed myself. During the worst session, I delighted in movement across the ice by performing old reliable skills. Skating may be an expensive sport, but it is still cheaper than therapy.


Week of February 26, 2001
Axel Dilemma

For the last few weeks, I have been on a “no axel” diet. Originally, I took a break from axels because my knees and shins were sore from flat and under-rotated landings. Of course, my body often ached from numerous falls. I decided to allow these injuries to heal and focus on other aspects of skating. During this sabbatical, I recaptured the pure joy of freestyle skating. Axel practice had become drudgery and evoked feelings of dread when I faced the inevitable wipeouts and disappointment of limited or negative progress. Axels hung over my head like an impending mid-term for which I did not want to study. Freed from this obligation, not only did my body recuperate, my attitude toward skating improved.

Time previously devoted to axels was appropriated for moves in the field (MITF), new spins, and interesting jump combinations. My coach pronounced me a master of preliminary forward outside three-turns on the hockey line. To earn this honor, I faithfully spent at least fifteen minutes per session traversing a hockey line with the diligence of a toy soldier. My backward to forward spin transitions have become respectable and I discovered the thrill of big, open half-loops performed as isolated elements or incorporated into jump combinations. Ridding myself of the axel made me a better skater than concentrating my efforts on learning it.

Skating is an infinite sport, in which an athlete may continuously develop without ever doing an axel or double. Single jumps can always be stronger. My coach’s singles cover at least six to eight feet of ice. Mine do not, but I strive to improve their distance. Stroking and MITF can always be faster and more elegant. The permutations and combinations possible with my spinning arsenal are enormous. Although my spins are good, they can still be more powerful. These pursuits keep me busy during each session. I do not miss the axel. My legs and buttocks do not miss the axel either.

This week, my coach wondered if I had returned to axels yet. When he asked why I had not, I explained my feelings truthfully. Coaches as well as skaters seem obsessed with axels. The axel is a stopcock that permits only the worthy to pass from intermediate to advanced. I wanted to cross that threshold as badly as a ten-year-old child training for the next competitive season. While I believe adults can learn to do axels and doubles, I have only seen a few who do good ones. After two years of effort, I am re-evaluating the status of my axel. I have to be reasonable about the type of axel I can hope to achieve. It will probably never be big and floating or crisp and tightly rotated. My axel may languish in the under-rotated, flat landed, imprecisely positioned stage indefinitely. The limiting factor is no longer fear, as I have proven on countless occasions that I am not afraid to fall, but rather the pounding to my body. When I land, a feather does not flutter toward the ice. As a larger person, an abrupt landing without a flowing edge to reduce its impact jars my knee joints, effectively restricting the possible number of repetitions.

Skating decisions are not necessarily static. Just because I choose not to work on axels this week, does not mean I will never try them again. I do not want the axel to diminish my love of skating or undermine my other accomplishments. The axel is no longer my goal. I will not kill myself for an axel. It will be a nice bonus if it ever reaches a stage that I consider satisfactory, but if it does not, skating offers plenty of other opportunities to excel.

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