July 2007
Week of July 8, 2007
New Rink Jitters
Dark clouds indicated that it promised to rain. Hard. However, I have had too few opportunities to skate in the last few months, in fact, in the last year. I was not exactly sure where I was going. I had called this rink from home, hundreds of miles away before I left to visit my father. My dad had told me the rink was at least fifteen but not more than twenty miles south on the state highway. There I would see a sign and take a left. I felt nervous. I have not ventured into a new rink for a year-and-a-half. Exploring new rinks is part of being an adult skater. We take our ice where and when we can get it. That means on vacation, business trips, lunch hours, evenings, early mornings, and weekends. If I could afford to be choosy, I might have avoided a day with thunderstorms in the forecast.
The rink is a community facility on a college campus. It has week-daily public sessions that are lightly attended, according to the voice on the phone. Just two or three people. I will increase the total to three or four. I entered the college campus. It is a tiny school, no gatehouse with someone to hand me a map and point the way to the rink. A nearby sign made that unnecessary. An arrow directed traffic to the rec center and ice arena. I could hardly wait to get back on the ice.
A group lesson was in progress when I arrived. A lone hockey guy was wandering around the lobby as I peered past the rental counter looking for a cash register. This is one of the universal oddities of new rink exploration. Where or whom to pay is never obvious. Hockey Guy asked if I had come for the public session. Yes, I had. He worked there. I paid him two dollars for the one-hour session. Cheapest ice I have enjoyed in years! I found the restroom, changed from shorts and a t-shirt to skating attire. The building was cool and basic, the very skeleton of a no-frills arena. Fancy skating complexes are nice, but any place with a skateable ice pad impresses me. I stretched by a hockey trophy case and looked through the window to the kids stumbling through the last few minutes of their class.
While I laced up my skates, the kids trouped out of the cold space and took to the benches to shed their rentals. A teenage girl wearing stretch pants with a logo rainbowed across her buttocks entered the building pulling a rolling case toward the benches. Her proud mother announced it was time to get on the ice. The girl led the way into the rink. She was first out and warmed up with forward cross-strokes and power-pulls. I started my own stroking and moves routine. The session was only an hour, and there was no clock in the rink, so I did not linger over drills but hurried along to spins.
My jumps are getting back up to speed. After watching the teen do some iffy doubles, I attacked my single jumps with power that has been absent since my ankle break last summer. Although jumping has never been my strength, I thoroughly enjoyed the freedom of sailing into a jump. Another adult skater complimented me at the end of the session. That always makes me feel good. She said I am a beautiful skater.
I left the arena smiling contentedly. This place is only about a fifteen minute drive from my dad's house. I plan to come back a few more times. As I headed north on the highway, it began to rain. Hard.
Wednesday July 11, 2007
Anniversary of the Break
One year ago today, I broke my ankle performing a right back outside three-turn. As a clockwise skater, this turn does not conform to my preferred rotational direction; and, therefore, feels unnatural to me. However, I try to increase my ambidexterity by working moves patterns that incorporate turns in both directions, as all serious skaters should. Early in my skating career (in fact, since my humble origins as a self-taught childhood roller skater), I did not focus on improving my weaknesses but enjoyed my strengths to excess. My strengths got stronger and my weaknesses became increasingly disproportionate.
A year of bizarre circumstances later, including another injury and a disastrous professional situation, I still am uncomfortable practicing one-foot turns in the counterclockwise direction. While I routinely skate patterns including mohawk pairs and forward outside three-turns, I am not as comfortable with backward three-turns. I have not tried a back inside three at all and only toy with clockwise back outside threes. The thought of doing a right backward outside three-turns causes my body to lock as though with rigor mortis. On the anniversary of the break, I forced myself to walk though the fateful turn with no ill effects and no real success either. My negative association with this skating anthill has turned it into a proverbial mountain. I will have to be patient with myself and my subconscious reflexes to overcome this aversion.
A superstitious person might avoid skating on such an auspicious occasion. However, I am not superstitious especially where good ice is concerned. This rink near my dad's house is remarkably uncrowded. The ice is hard, smooth, fast and well maintained. I can hardly bare to take a day off to cross-train and refresh my skating muscles. I decided it would be very important to banish any lingering demons by defiantly skating on this day. I skated hard and jumped with determination. I focused on improvement and concentrated on the task at hand. My spins require better center, I want my combinations back, and I need to regain my jumping prowess.
As if gifted by the skate gods, no one else appeared at the rink for my anniversary session. I had the whole place to myself. It was perfect, fantastic, ice-heavenly. I even fell once; sat down in a back camel. I got up without incident, smiling to myself. It's been a long year, but I'm back.
Monday July 16, 2007
Serendipity
A week has past since my first visit to the rink near my dad's house. With the group lessons over, I arrived at an empty, dark rink rather than one full of activity. When I saw the classes in progress last Monday, I reminisced about my experience as a skating instructor. I had always wanted to be involved in the wonderful world of ice skating to whatever extent possible and earn a buck for my efforts. As an adult skater who never truly mastered the axel, I believed this to be a pipedream. Then I discovered group instruction, teaching beginners to skate. I loved it. I miss it. I would have been doing it last season had I been physically capable of skating and holding up a struggling little kid while supporting my own weight. I considered asking the manager if they ever needed more instructors, subs perhaps. I could fill in whenever I am in the area visiting my father. Now that's utter dedication; the willingness to sacrifice one's own vacation ice time to teach others to skate. But I only planned to be in the area for a couple of weeks, a few days of which had already evaporated. It didn't make sense to even broach the subject and risk presumption.
Over the last weekend, I decided to extend my sojourn by another week and left my inhibitions in the rink’s parking lot. I paid for the session and asked about teaching opportunities. The manager said a couple of parents had enquired about private freestyle lessons, but the rink did not have staff to handle the request. Now they had me.
My first student walked in ten minutes later with her grandfather. The manager turned him on to the woman already out on the ice who coaches. That would be me. The gentleman flagged me off the ice, asked if I would be willing to teach his granddaughter, I named a reasonable price for thirty-minute lessons, and he called the girl over. He labeled our chance meeting "serendipity". I call the whole thing "serendipity". I had been feeling pretty low about the job I left last month and how I was mistreated by my evil supervisor. This happy accident renewed my confidence and provided reassurance that everything would turn out for the best.
The eleven-year-old girl devoured every skill presented in last week's group class and eagerly absorbed everything I offered. We worked on stroking, crossovers, backward wiggle-skating (a beginner version of backward slalom), forward two-foot slalom, pivots, and basic two-foot spins. She spun naturally clockwise but could also spin competently counterclockwise. She claimed to be ambidextrous, a big word for an eleven-year-old, but she knew exactly what her grandpa meant by serendipity. I encouraged her to practice two-foot spins in both directions. She will undoubtedly have another instructor when she gets back home to her parents, and I hope this is true because the child adores skating in the way I did at her age. Another instructor may also decide to mold the ambidextrous young lady to conform to the sport's dominant direction, so I want the girl to have as well-rounded a foundation as possible. Or once she starts jumping, she may decide to favor counterclockwise rotation. In any case, I will not make that decision for her at this early stage.
There is no clock in the rink, so I lost track of time and worked with my protégé for more than a half-hour. It was so much fun for both of us, I hardly noticed the passage of time. The girl's grandmother posed us together for a photograph. She may look at that picture years from now and remember me as her first coach. That made me feel special and important. I still remember the name of the woman who taught the group lessons I took as a little girl. I wish I had a picture of her.
July 17 & 18, 2007
The Other Two Lessons
Since my student was visiting her grandparents from over three-hundred miles away, we had limited opportunity to work together. I gave her one thirty-minute lesson per day for three days. She made fantastic progress which really delighted her grandparents. The girl pulled a smooth, quick, centered two-foot spin right in front of her grandma who was so surprised she did not have the camera ready. This young skater loves to spin, a condition I relate to very well. In fact, she would rather spin than skate, another situation that is all too familiar to me. I worked with her on stroking and slalom. She likes slalom and swizzles, and performs them in reverse now that she has learned the basics of propelling one's self backward across a rink. However, she gets bored with stroking. I tried to explain that stroking is skating. When skaters move across the ice, they are stroking. Of course there are plenty of exceptions, but stroking is the very basic motion of skating. But good stroking is hard to do. Fundamental stroking is not taught in group lessons until students have passed a few initial levels.
I take stroking for granted. Many more experienced skaters do. We tend to raise stroking to an art form. Stroking can be done with glorious arm movement, incredible extension, and awe-inspiring grace; not to mention speed and edge quality. Think of world class ice dancers stroking around a rink. I'll take an order of that over an adult axel any day. Nothing looks more impressive than a truly good skater simply covering the ice. That person captures the essence of skating, glorifying the movements of ancient peoples gliding about with animal bones strapped to their feet. However, where the animal bones leave off, edged steel attached to the boots of a modern master converts mundane winter travel into athletic ethereal beauty. In order to ascend to this level, the skater in training must develop some basic skills that are often forgotten by the advanced who accept movement on ice as an after-thought.
The beginner must learn to balance and glide on one foot; not one foot in particular, but each foot independently and equally. Skaters learn this early in the process. However, then they need to push properly with the edge of the blade and not the toe pick. The leg must extend correctly, in the right direction; not out to the side like a dog addressing a fire hydrant. The toe needs to turn out and point. The knees must bend with each push. The feet have to come back together between pushes lest the skater toddle from one leg to the other in a perpetual stiff-legged stupor. The rear-end cannot protrude. The torso should stand erect with arms held gracefully to the sides. The chin should be up when most beginning skaters prefer to keep a close eye on their untrustworthy feet. And all of this must be done smoothly in perfect sync.
I won't even start on the complexities of crossovers. Luckily my little gal likes forward crossovers and does them on a hockey circle as a warm-up. I did a good job of teaching her crossover. She has a solid foundation for her next instructor to take over.
Grandmother gave me her contact information and I gladly exchanged mine. She and her husband were impressed with my teaching. In three lessons their granddaughter acquired several important skills and honed those she already possessed. They wanted to know when I plan to be in town so I can give occasional lessons. It is so wonderful to be appreciated especially for something so dear to my heart. Working with this energetic young lady was as positive for me as it was for her.
Week of July 22, 2007
Summer Progress
The rink near my dad's house has been a godsend. Not only did I teach a few lessons, make some money, and sooth my wounded self-confidence; I have also regained some of my more advanced skills. I had been struggling with spin center, something that came naturally to me before my injuries. Now my spins are centering again. I have also rebuilt the strength in my right leg to do forward sit spins. As a clockwise skater, I perform forward spins on my right leg. My sit spins are not deep yet, but my skating thigh is at least parallel to the ice. Rising out of the sit position, I drilled the spin into the ice, achieving a tight center. Most people do not accomplish especially low sit spins, especially adult skaters. Many adults languish in the squat stage for years and may never truly overcome it. Yes, adult skaters face challenges other than the axel jump. The sit spin is one of them. Since I used to have a very low sit spin, I plan to work until it comes back.
My flying camel is back, and not badly centered. Although I came down on the flat a couple of times, others spun directly atop the landing, an ideal situation. I enjoy combining a back camel with a back sit, but need to expand this technique to include a Hamill camel descent into the sit. By kicking my legs higher in the flying entrance to the spin, I can practice death drops and land directly in a back sit. These advanced spins have reentered the realm of possibility. I would also like to polish off a back camel with an illusion, a trick I could do expertly a few years ago.
Finally, my jumps are returning to the extent that my flip technique is approaching the magical combination of movements that led to “huge” jumps for my former coach, Geoff. I am having a lot of fun with jumping; savoring the incredible airborne moment when I can actually feel myself floating before touch-down. This sensation can be addictive. It has been a long time since I have done so many flips, loops, salchows and combinations of the above. I yearn to try a double. My body feels strong and healthy. I love being able to skate and have made a lot of progress this summer. Spinning and jumping release an amazing euphoria. I feel that I can do anything. Well, almost anything; on the ice that is.
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