July 2008
Early to Mid July 2008
Audio Books
I commute far too much for the little bit of money I earn. Two days a week, I actually commute twice; once in the morning to my non-skating job then in the afternoon to teach at the rink. In my opinion, the radio sucks. I get sick of dial surfing looking for something other than asinine DJs, news, traffic reports, and commercials. When I find a song, I usually don’t like it, especially if it does not hail from the eighties or before. My one prior experience with an audio book was a failure that resulted in a library fine. However, given the time I have been wasting in the car, I tried again.
I decided I really like listening to stories while I drive. For a particularly good story, I might even anticipate getting back into the car. A natural extension of commute listening is jogging or walking while listening. I have yet to do this primarily because I do not have an Ipod of my own and I have not bothered to experiment with my husband’s. For now, I listen to the sounds of nature and passing automobiles while logging road miles. I play audio books while doing resistance training in the living room. I find it far more enjoyable than watching TV while toning. Commercials pollute television programming, most of which sucks anyway. Of course, I am not the easiest audience to please; and Project Runway, Shear Genius and Ice Road Truckers are on too close to bedtime to be working up a sweat.
So I have taken up listening and lifting. An entertaining story makes the time go by faster. It encourages me to exercise or stretch a little longer just to hear the rest of chapter. While audio books would not be suitable for aerobics where rhythm and beat motivate a body to keep moving, it will occupy a wandering mind during more monotonous training. I recommend it to anyone who needs to work out alone at home and tends to avoid it due to boredom. Find an engrossing novel and let someone else read it while you strengthen and stretch those skating muscles.
Week of July 13, 2008
The Parking Lot
Last week I saw someone stud-styling a snazzy little convertible into a parking space in the upper lot at the rink. The driver was one of the younger coaches. I suppose she is a college student, but she might be younger. Funny how “young” all looks about the same now that I’m not. What did I expect? This girl skated competitively throughout childhood. Parents who can afford to raise a kid up to junior or senior level competition can certainly afford to buy her a fancy car when she comes of age. When I met the girl in the locker room, we greeted each other pleasantly. However, I was thinking “I have absolutely nothing in common with you”.
Amy, the high school student who complained about making less money than the rest of the coaches because she works primarily as a helper, recently got her drivers’ license. At the rink, she proudly told me she got a car. Good for her. She said she needed to work more hours than she could get at the rink; maybe she got another job. Since Amy started skating as a teen, she is not accomplished or polished. She did not grow up with blades on her feet; therefore, I assumed she is just an average kid who might have to work to earn money for skating lessons. She went on to comment on the price of gas, a common concern these days, and probably a horrifying reality check for a new driver. I nodded sympathetically.
After the session, I walked with Amy and another young girl to the parking lot. Amy wanted to show off her car. To my astonishment, she had a brand new Audi convertible with the dealer placards still in the license plate frame. “That’s my new car, Kay,” she announced pointing at a vehicle worth more than the annual salary I earned with a PhD at my former corporate job.
I had driven to the rink in the car my father-in-law is now too old to drive. Smiling, I retorted, “And this is mine. 1984.” Amy did not know what to say. My car is older than her by several years. The air conditioner does not work, and one of the doors won’t open. The hatchback won’t stay raised either. But next year, I can register it as an antique. Other than those superficial mechanical problems, it is in excellent condition. It looks almost new. New old stock, that is. A great little retro-mobile. I got in the car, popped a cassette in the player. ELO. Time. Copyright 1981. Purchased in 1983. Recently excavated from a box of crap in an extra room.
This kid has more money before graduating from high school than I will have before retirement. Why is she bitching about gas prices? Unless her parents bought the car but refuse to pay for fuel in a disjointed attempt to teach her the value of a dollar. I laughed as I maneuvered my vintage automobile out of the parking lot and waved to Amy. I stereotyped Amy as a middle class child because she is not an accomplished skater and expressed interest in working longer hours. She must have taken up skating after failing at horseback riding, one of the few sports more expensive than figure skating.
Ice Castle is strategically positioned in a high-income area, an ideal place for a rink. If you are interested in conspicuous displays of wealth, the parking lot of an ice arena is a great place to start.
Week of July 20, 2008
Skating With the Teens
After a group lesson session, no one came on the ice including the Zamboni driver. I have not been skating much this summer except before and after teaching; and, even then, not for very long. So I took advantage of this opportunity to get a little much-needed practice. Two junior coaches stayed on the ice with me: Amy, who has been to subject of previous entries, and another high school senior who I shall call Sarah***. Amy is on the verge of driving me insane. She seems to really like me and follows me around, which I find rather strange. She also boldly asks me for spinning tips. I would not mind this if she were not taking lessons from another coach at the same rink. I doubt anyone would accuse me of soliciting Amy away from her present coach, but her coach has mentioned referring students to me for spin lessons. I would rather Amy pay for my expertise and keep the situation out in the open. I am not really sure how to handle Amy’s inquiries, and I try to keep skating when she trails along after me.
Sarah is a naturally more talented skater than Amy and comes from a more modest background. Her mom drops her off at the rink and was waiting while she fooled around after the group lessons. Sarah also works at Ice Castle as a skate guard. She seems good at footwork, though I have not seen her jump very often and her spins are not exceptional. Sarah has a great spiral, one of the best I have seen. She is able to lift her free leg very high while still keeping her chest nearly upright. Her body achieves a “V” shape that is very attractive and elegant.
So Sarah was doing some field moves and swapping pointers with Amy while I did camels of every imaginable sort, including flying camels. Although I like Sarah and Amy (Sarah especially; she is a very nice kid), I am old enough to be their mother and do not feel comfortable hanging around with them on the ice. They commented on my version of a donut spin and layover back camel, but I basically did my own thing while they did theirs.
While I may not be able to match higher test teenage skaters in the jump and footwork departments, I have never had trouble with stamina. I can practice as long and hard as any kid. However, it was evening and I had worked earlier in the day at my non-skating job and wanted to go home. I got off the ice leaving the youngsters to their own devices.
On the way out of the building, I politely greeted Sarah’s mother. Almost as though confessing a betrayal of her daughter, she told me she loves to watch me spin because I am so graceful. The parent of a skater usually knows what quality skating looks like, so I was flattered by her compliment. Modestly, I admitted that I have been skating for a long time. “It shows,” she replied kindly. She made my day.
***Names have been changed.
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