January 2005
Week of January 9, 2005
New Skates and a Fat Ass
~ New Skates~
Well, I wore the new skates again this week. My ankle protectors came in the mail and I popped them into my bag. When I went to the rink, I stretched them over my feet, shoved them under my thin polypropylene socks positioning them carefully around the abrasion zones. The socks hid them from view as I forced my feet into the stiff leather boots. Lo and behold! I took to the ice and felt no pain. I warmed up and skated as usual. The new blades improved the quality of my spins instantly. No longer did I slip off the hook of a spin, but rather centered dead atop the initiating three-turn. Now that’s what a spin tracing is supposed to look like, a perfectly circular blob with a definite center and uniform radius.
After less than two hours on the ice, I extracted my feet from the boots. The only discomfort I felt was a nagging reminder to clip my toe nails before my next excursion to the rink. The ankle sleeves showed definite signs of wear after this brief period of use. A small tear had already formed in the right one, apparently due to the pressure of aggressive spinning. I was doing (or shall I admit, ‘working on’) broken leg sit spins. These have never been a favorite; but my new coach, Eileen, insists I learn them. I was disappointed to realize these gel things will not last long, despite their ridiculous expense. Hopefully by the time they are ready for the garbage can, my boots will be softened enough to make them unnecessary.
~ A Fat Ass~
I also went to the doctor this week for a routine check up. Of course, I had to get on the scale but did not want to look. Morbid curiosity drew my eye to the balance after the nurse stepped away, clipboard in hand. Just as I dreaded, I have gained weight. I knew that. What I did not realize is how much. I have gained back the twenty to twenty-five pounds I lost during my stint in aerobics class. I felt absolutely defeated. All of that progress, gone! My head swam with concern and panic.
Since I returned to work full-time last fall, my exercise schedule has changed dramatically. I can no longer skate a minimum of six hours per week, and I often skated eight to ten. Now I am lucky to get three to four. The bogus time I spend teaching does not count even though I demonstrate basic movements for my students. This probably burns off about one raisin per skill.
The aerobics class no longer fit into my routine. In fact, it had become a nuisance. Last February, the instructor with her obnoxious blaring music and the icy parking lot were more than I could tolerate. So, I dumped my membership. I used to attend at least three of those classes weekly. At best, I could only make two sessions at night when I was already worn out and unwilling. In addition to skating and aerobics, I supplemented my regimen with walks on the weekends. I rarely do that anymore.
Gaining weight does not go unnoticed on even the most preoccupied individual. Sure, I know my pants are not as comfortable anymore and my ass looks flabbier. I knew I had to do something to replace aerobics. During the fall, I started working out at home on the exercise bike, with aerobics weights, stretching, and calisthenics. My current program takes an hour and I have been doing it about four times weekly. Apparently, it is not enough; or I have lost so much ground, the deficit (surplus?) was even worse that I feared.
I feel so completely disgusted, I could just cry. Yes, my life is different now and I probably have to watch my diet more closely since I have fewer opportunities to exercise. However, I am unwilling to count every calorie that goes down my gullet. I cannot sacrifice the pleasure derived from going out for Indian food with my husband on Saturday afternoon. Creamy paneer dishes are my favorite food on earth. They cannot be jettisoned even if I weigh a thousand pounds. I would rather get my stomach stapled. Maybe that is the just reality of the situation. I am not a naturally thin person. Additionally, I suffer from hypothyroidism. I have to work hard to keep the fat off my backside. Unfortunately, I only have so much time and energy to invest in that battle. Sometimes I am just too exhausted to climb on that stupid bike.
I saw this coming, yes I did.
Sunday January 23, 2005
Patio Rink
My last attempt at rink building was an absolute disaster. That was several years ago when the weather did not cooperate and left me with a huge mud puddle and a lot of filthy polyethylene sheeting. Since we moved to a bigger house with a bigger backyard, my husband and I contemplated purchasing one of those pricey rink kits that comes with a liner and special frame supports. We thought about leveling an area in the yard or even renting a bulldozer. However, after buying the house, we could not afford this additional expense. With so much snow on the ground, I should be able to replicate the outdoor rink I saw in Anaconda, Montana. That huge expanse had no fancy liner or patented support system. It was just the flooded green of a small town. Coincidentally, we have a brick patio right outside the main bedroom that would serve the purpose nicely. It even has a sand foundation, just like a real ice rink.
As my husband tended to the serious business of snow blowing the driveway, I cleared the front stairs then went to work on my pet project, the patio rink. It took an hour-and-a-half to clear the snow and pile it into a border around the space. I left some snow on the ground and packed it with my boots and shovel. It looked really beautiful, but would it work? My husband took a break and came to check on my progress.
“Why do you want such a small rink?”
The patio is about the size of a bedroom, maybe 12 x 14 feet or so. This rink is an experiment. Why should I invest two or three times the labor in a possible failure? Building an outdoor rink on a small scale will demonstrate whether making one without special equipment is possible in our yard. I am developing my rink-engineering technique; not my skating technique. If it succeeds, I will have a little place to practice spins and turns. While I certainly will not be able to use it for moves in the field or dances, I relish the opportunity to skate in my own backyard after work, if only for an hour and if only on spins. Heck, I like to spin anyway. Then I could devote more of my indoor rink time to other practice. Once I explained this, my husband nodded in agreement and took my picture. He has never seen me this engaged by a home and garden project before. But this is not about gutting an outdated room or planting rose bushes; this is skating, motivator of the otherwise hopelessly lazy.
My husband ran a hundred-foot hose from a spigot in the basement, snaked it through the house, and to the patio door. I pulled the hose outside, and he turned on the water downstairs. I proceeded to spray the snow banks and future ice surface with water from a garden nozzle. This took a surprisingly long time, but I have heard laying a good foundation is the most important step in outdoor rink construction. As I sprayed, I stomped bumps and packed ruts with snow. I could only stand to wait about an hour before checking the status of my little rink. The step down to the patio shined with ice. I reached out to touch the snow barrier. It felt crispy and solid under my gloved fingers. I rubbed my boot on the ice. It was encouragingly slippery. So I proceeded to pack low spots by tapping the ice with my shoes. I turned on the water and let the place flood. The hose swirled on the frozen ground, pushed by water pressure into a cobra dance. As the water ran, established ice broke and melted. I refilled thinning zones and turned off the water.
A disturbing air bubble formed and grew like a giant amoeba under the new crust of ice in the lowest part of the rink. Although my husband suggested I allow the rink to freeze for least two hours before doing anything else, I could not stand the sight of that enormous, ugly air bubble. I went outside and smashed through it with my shovel, then I filled the depression with more snow.
It’s about time for tonight’s flooding. I will turn the hose on to a gentle flow and allow the level to rise about an inch. I feel like a little kid on Christmas Eve. I will probably get up in the middle of the night, turn on the patio light and stare at my pretty little rink.
Check back soon for rink-building updates!
More patio rink pictures will be added to the Photo Gallery within the next couple of weeks.
I will post a notice on this page when they are online.
Tuesday January 25, 2005
Labor of Love
Building a rink is a big job. It is a pain in the ass. It is a labor of love. It is a good way to catch a cold. After laying the base of the rink on Sunday and beginning to layer on the ice, I awoke Monday morning with a scratchy throat. I went to work anyway, but felt lousy all day. Today, I stayed home and slept most of the morning. I am not deathly ill, but I am not myself. I plan to go to work tomorrow unless I take a turn for the worst over night.
My first revelation about laying ice came on Sunday. The hose cannot be left on the ice and allowed to run. The warmth of the water and the pressure of the flow melts the ice at the mouth of the hose creating gaping holes. Those cavities then need to be packed with snow. This is where a purchased ready-sized liner would come in handy. It would hold the water, and the rink could be filled like a kiddy pool, one inch at a time, freezing thoroughly between floodings. For those of us doing it the old fashioned way with a snow base, one must stand and spray the ice sheet with a nozzle. Shallow places eventually fill in, as water flows downhill. This spraying ritual should be repeated every couple of hours.
I came home from work yesterday feeling mediocre at best, but went outside anyway and flooded my rink. In fact, I have sprayed it twice already today and plan another two or more sprinklings. I have to get this thing smooth before we have a warm day and the whole endeavor becomes a catastrophic waste of time.
Check back soon for rink-building updates!
More patio rink pictures will be added to the Photo Gallery within the next couple of weeks.
I will post a notice on this page when they are online.
Saturday January 29, 2005
Real Ice
My heart pounded with excitement. I have wanted my own rink for as long as I can remember. As a child growing up in a climate that made a natural rink impossible, I once wished aloud to a friend that I hoped my family would move someplace where I could skate on a frozen pond. My friend was horrified that I valued her companionship less than a patch of solid water. I would chuck our middle school bond for life in a cold place. I figured I would forge new relationships, write to old buddies, and skate like a girl obsessed. Of course, my family never relocated to such a paradise, and my friend and I went our separate ways following the currents that govern teenage life.
In my late thirties, this fantasy became truth. For the first time, I stepped on my own little rink. Actually, I only planned to test the ice. I knew it was not completely level yet. After multiple floodings, a base had been established that welcomed my blade. However, ripples terraced the sides of the rink where water froze on its downhill journey. The patio is higher in the center than the sides (except for one low-lying area that probably receded early the structure’s history), as one would expect for a patio. Rain should run off rather than puddle in the center inviting mosquitoes to a convenient breeding ground. However, this is not the optimum configuration for a rink. I should have built up the sides with packed snow rather than simply expecting to fill the basin allowing water to seek its own level. Lesson learned.
Avoiding the dangerous irregularities that resembled surf marks in wet sand, I skated in the middle of the already tiny ice patch. Stepping onto the surface, I marveled at the ice I had created. There was real ice in my yard! And it was not the type of ice that would cause a nasty slip in the driveway. Awestruck, I sat down and rubbed the delicious substance with my bare fingers. It was beautiful, simply exquisite. But it was not much good for skating. The sloppy edges reduced the useable area, space that would have accommodated backward crossover wind-ups into forward spins. While I rarely use this entrance, it fits perfectly onto the patio rink. Instead, I had to simply step into spins that traveled unwillingly with the incline.
I did a few half jumps from one or two pushes and had no room to ride out the landing. Since the rink has a fairly decent diagonal, I stood poised in one corner and performed my trick of choice into the opposite corner. Lack of space truncated all of my efforts thus limiting commitment to each maneuver. For the first time in years, I played with an axel. I did a couple of jumps from a standstill in the flattest, smoothest part of the rink. Limited space made me more uncomfortable than the jump itself. I was not completely dedicated to the jump and was just fooling around as opposed to really trying. The small rink was perfect for toe work. I pranced sideways along the diagonal on my toe picks in a skipping motion then performed a similar step incorporating turns.
Unfortunately, I hit one of the ice ridges and wrenched my back while saving hide from certain peril. I did not go down but probably should have. It was one of those unforeseen stumbles. These happen in rinks all the time and are often associated with footwork gone awry. They are the enemy of knees, elbows, and tail bones. In this case, my blade caught a lump in the outdoor, homemade, un-Zambonied ice that sent me reeling. It was bound to happen. I stayed on the rink, continuing to test the laws of probability. Sooner or later, I would step in the wrong place and suffer the consequences. That pulled muscle ached for days after my little patio adventure.
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