January 2002
Week of January 6, 2002
Taking Inventory
Welcome to 2002, and good riddance to 2001! It was not the odyssey anyone expected.
After two weeks off ice, I returned to my home rink planning to get myself back in shape and take inventory of which skills had deteriorated and those that might have vanished completely. Most notably, I worried about my stupid double salchow. Maybe the thing had abandoned me after two long weeks of neglect. Fortunately, I did not gain any holiday weight and maintained a stretching routine to preserve my limberness while away from regular practice.
I played with the double toe loop before facing the potential disappointment of my supposedly learned double. My double toe loops amount to little more than failed toe-axels, axels taken from the toe pick rather than a smoothly sweeping movement into a true toe loop. However, I am gaining experience and understanding of this awkward little jump. As expect, I fell several times before rediscovering my double salchow, but it was there waiting to taunt me with its inconsistency. I settled for a couple of relatively successful attempts and moved on.
Skills that need readjusting include the stag leap (not enough split), the inverted backward camel (too few rotations), an my star-flying camel sequence (camel landing has become sloppy). I try to be reasonable and rarely expect perfection, but overall I prefer this assortment of problems to losing my puny double salchow. The next day the double was actually quite good, compared to my baseline performance. While I make fun of this jump because no sane person would boast about it, the jump is really not that terrible. My speed into it has increased, and it covers about a foot of ice. That is still pretty pathetic in absolute terms, but after my struggles with the more difficult jumps, I will unabashedly take any progress. I have found that carrying a sensible bit of speed into the salchow actually improves its quality. Avoiding recklessness, I increase the approach velocity gradually, keeping within my comfort zone, but someday I will skate into this jump like a maniac, as Geoff taught me to do with the flip.
During my last skating session this week, a teenage girl joined me on the ice. The session was particularly empty. One other adult had taken a lesson and left, without sparing an extra moment for independent practice. This girl was a welcomed sight, as I prefer not to skate (or swim) alone. Her blades created a delicious ripping noise as she circled the ice with powerful backward crossovers. A toasty fire lit under my sleepy butt, I proceeded to pump around the rink, making the same expert sound. The young woman clearly did not expect me do this, and we smiled at each other as she began to work on doubles and eventually triples. But she, too, stayed only a short time and left me alone in the rink.
I performed better this week than anticipated. My double has not disappeared into oblivion, and I can skate as fast as a kid half my age.
Week of January 13, 2002
The Absolute Hardest Forward Spin Combination
Last May I wrote about a spin combination that I considered the “hardest forward spin combination on earth”. Well, I lied. A layback into a forward sit is not the hardest forward spin combination. At the time, it might have been the most difficult one I had encountered, so I did not mislead anyone intentionally. I merely did not realize that something more ominous awaited in future lessons. Over the last few months, I have mastered the
The forward sit-forward camel is widely regarded as a very challenging spin combination and is rarely performed in elite competition, though I have seen several men and a couple of ladies execute it. Opening from a sit spin to a camel is an inefficient transition, and speed is often lost precluding the possibility of a worthwhile camel spin. I played with this combination a couple of years ago and created a version that included an upright intermediary, facilitating the awkward changeover. In this week’s lesson, my coach unlocked the secret of this daunting skill. From the sit, rise about
The previously described combinations intimidate advanced skaters, yet there is another that hovers on the fringe of impossibility: the layback-forward camel. If you think you are a good spinner, try this combination. It is absolutely humbling. For a long time, I have been able to hit a camel following an upright spin by pivoting on my toe pick, simultaneously capturing the spin and attaining the desired position. Doing the same from a layback is infinitely harder. The layback must be fast and centered. No hesitation can occur as the blade engages the pick and the body redistributes into the camel posture. This is ridiculously difficult to do. I can barely squeak out one rotation of an unstable camel.
This is the most annoying combination I have tried, and I have decided to list it as one of my top priorities. Success with the layback-camel will result from precise timing and control. Done properly, I can imagine its beauty: the graceful curve of a layback melting effortlessly into the balletic extension of a twirling arabesque. I would love to have such an glorious skill in my repertoire! Fortunately, this is not the type of maneuver that invites wicked falls. I can practice it in relative safety after my hindquarters ache from failed jumps.
Week of January 20, 2002
Disgusted
I did not skate well this week, nor did I skate well toward the end of last week. For a while, I was making respectable progress, but now I think I have stopped dead in my tracks. Sometimes I get disgusted with skating; more specifically with my skating. Why I am doing this? I cannot possibly hope to be “good” in absolute terms. I'm not talking about
Last week, I shared the ice with a man who passed the senior ice dancing test. I know better than to compare myself to someone who is at least ten years my junior and has skated all of his life. I encourage other adults not to make such disparaging comparisons, because most of us cannot stack up to the competition, nor is it sensible to expect. Yet, I found myself in awe of this fellow who was just out on the ice killing time. He flew around the rink in simple but beautiful patterns, achieving glorious extension and cutting silent pure edges. I wanted to skate like that. So I began to work on some of my double three-turn patterns. I felt like a plodding old matron.
A major reason for my current dissatisfaction is the apparent equilibrium in my basic skating skills. Actually, some of my juvenile moves have improved, including the eight step mohawk and the backward power threes, but neither would win any prizes and probably would not pass the test. At the core of my disenchantment are the backward inside
But everything seems laborious lately. Yes, I have great days when I skate very well and learn new movements readily; but most of the time, I toil over the same old stuff, over and over, literally for years. I have been warming up with preliminary moves in the field for over two years. I have invested, and continue to invest, and inordinate amount of time in the double salchow, a trick I cannot possibly hope to do to my own satisfaction. Appreciative of any modicum of progress, I still struggle every day with that cursed jump. My spins are generally praiseworthy, even compared with similar skills performed by competitive children; but on random days, I fail to center and slip off the hook of my camel.
Spinning is where I demand the most from myself, because it is where I am most likely to succeed. I work on complex spin combinations; demanding speed, flow, precision, and consistency. I expect to spin well enough to pass the senior free skating test. This may sound absurd coming from a bummed out thirty-something skater who can barely complete a double jump, but this is not an unreasonable standard for me. I am grateful to possess this talent; but the disconnect between my spinning, jumping, and basic skating abilities bothers me.
Maybe I need to alter my practice routine. Maybe I need a coaching change. Maybe I should take ice dance lessons. Maybe I just had a few lousy days.
Note added in proof:
The day after I wrote this entry, I dragged myself to the rink and had a fantastic skate.
Week of January 24, 2002
Coming Soon: The Double Loop
In the final fifteen minutes of my last skating session this week, I discovered an exercise that will likely lead to my first double loop jump. Everyone has seen kids attempting double loops as the second jump in combination with a single loop jump. I even sought my coach’s advice on this method. Like a flat stone skimming the surface of a still body of water, loop jumps can literally be strung together until the skater depletes his stamina. Nothing feels more secure or effortless than being perfectly centered over the rotational axis and popping a series of loops. This bouncing action contributes to the spring required for a double and provides rotational momentum to complete the required turns.
Unfortunately, the loop-double loop drill produced little success for me. The loop has been my best jump for several years. I approach it with great vigor, jumping high and covering a respectable distance. While I can do loops in combination without difficulty, the first loop in the series tends to be huge, a factor that makes the subsequent double difficult to control. Geoff has suggested I try a smaller initial loop jump, but I cannot achieve the same effect. My goal with loops, at this point, is to make them as enormous as possible, not to tame them. I will gladly accept this “problem” and look for another way to learn the double.
My efforts to land a double from the basic backward crossover preparation have yielded encouraging results. I might eventually master the jump using this technique. However, I am not willing to completely reject the
Similar to the multiple loop series, I enjoy combining other jumps with a string of single loops. This week, I performed a salchow followed by four clean smooth loop jumps. The salchow-loop is an excellent combination for me. I use it, and the salchow-loop-loop, as a warm up exercise for the double salchow, which has not vanished from my repertoire. My salchow landing is sufficiently steady that I can stand poised with my free leg curved in front of my body hesitating for an instant before launching into the loop jump; which is generally as big, or bigger than, its predecessor.
An idea dawned upon me like divine inspiration. Use my command over the salchow-loop to attempt a salchow-double loop. With nothing to lose but a few minutes that could be spent spinning, I set up for a salchow. Once the salchow touched down, I prepared to blast upward into a double. Instinctively, I pulled in and rotated. One try convinced me. This exercise will result in a double, probably soon. The salchow landing places the body in an ideal take-off position, and fluency of rotation translates readily into a quick aerial backspin. The salchow-double loop combination achieved faster, more complete rotation with less effort than the double attempted as a solo skill. Repeatedly, I circled the ice and leaped. Each time, I got closer to the prize, once so close that I yelped with delight. Had I stumbled upon this trick earlier in the session, I might have done it until my left thigh ached and I could no longer depress the clutch pedal to drive myself home.
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