March 2001
Week of March 5, 2001
Worth As Much As an Axel
The double salchow never troubled me like the axel. It was not the source of my knee pain or bruised ego. A mystique surrounds the axel exalting it above all other movements in figure skating. No similar phenomenon is associated with the double salchow, though it is commonly the first double acquired by developing skaters. However, the axel barrier separates beginners from advanced skaters and delineates competitors from hobbyists. Children who take lessons and practice with reasonable frequency can generally expect to land an axel within a timeframe of several weeks to a year. They attain correct body position with crossed feet and travel in an attractive trajectory over the ice. My observations of most adults who learn to do axels never achieve ideal technique. Adult axels tend to be under-rotated, with a sloppy free leg and hunched air position. This does not mean every adult does poor axels or the best an adult can hope to achieve is a substandard axel. However,
In spite of patient dedication, my axel did not improve and my body began to ache from the falls. I decided to take a break from axels and double salchows for a few weeks. An open-ended decision, I allowed myself the luxury of an indefinite holiday from discouraging jumps. Not doing axels has been a blessing to my mind, body and skating repertoire. However, I am ready to attempt double salchows again. My worst stumbles never resulted from double salchows; and their landings, though often under-rotated, were softer and less damaging.
After a few preparatory singles and over-rotated salchow-loop combinations, I sprung from a right back inside edge (clockwise rotation) into the jump. I landed on both feet, but did not expect miracles. The next try landed on one foot, short of rotation. Not bad and actually better than expected. My third attempt rotated completely, but ended with a fall. I fell a few times but completed a couple decent double salchows. Another adult skater caught me in the act and praised my efforts. During my vacation from difficult jumps, fear of the double salchow vanished; although, it never caused the anxiety that the axel’s forward take-off produced in the pit of my stomach. The comfortable initiating three-turn and backward take-off make the double salchow somehow less intimidating. If necessary, attempts can be easily aborted and mishaps tend to be predictable due to a narrower range of possible errors.
I enjoyed practicing double salchows and believe the break improved my performance rather than causing regression. After a couple of weeks of double salchow work, assuming progress remains encouraging, I may tackle the more difficult axel again. Many people have told me they learned a consistent double salchow or toe loop before mastering the axel. I would be delighted to own a respectable double. For my purposes as a recreational skater, it would be worth as much as an axel.
Week of March 12, 2001
This Time I Mean It
At the beginning of last summer, I made a commitment to work on the double salchow, and for the most part kept my word. However, little came of this promise. I completed a few under-rotated double salchows, landed on both feet and did a lot of “super singles” (big, sloppy, over-rotated beasts that could not pass as doubles to even the most naïve observer). I also mastered the “toe pick double”, an over-rotated single that lands -- still spinning -- on the toe pick, accomplishing enough rotation on the ice to make me think I did a double. I fell infrequently, probably because my commitment to the double salchow was tentative. Falls unfortunately accompany progress on more difficult elements. I had not pushed myself to the “fall or improve” threshold. Succumbing to disgust, I abandoned the salchow as well as the axel.
Last week, I returned to the double salchow expecting very little, but landed a few under-rotated jumps on one foot. They did not seem as frightening as I remembered. The cheated single-foot landing is practically consistent. While nothing to brag about, cheated on one foot beats under-rotated on both feet. It also indicates that rotation is occurring around the axis.
My coach observed a couple of over-zealous singles before I attempted a double. The first try landed predictably on my left foot (I rotate clockwise), short of rotation. It felt effortless and natural, but prizes are not awarded for
I plan to practice this jump during every session. This time I mean it. I’m going to get the double salchow.
Week of March 19, 2001
Moves in the Field Epiphanies
I could have danced around the rink when my coach declared my preliminary moves in the field (MITF) testable for May. For months I have struggled to improve them, forcing perfection and trying to gain his approval. However, I never fished for compliments or pushed to test before he offered a positive verdict. This process frustrated me, and I worried about never achieving his high standard. Actually I am afraid to test. Skating tests make me nervous, though I never (or only rarely) choked on academic examinations. Maybe being alone on the ice with people watching my body move makes me uncomfortable. It has been a long time since anyone looked at my body during a scholastic exam. Although I longed to hear Geoff speak those precious words, I felt like throwing up as soon as I stepped off the ice and imagined myself warming up on the fateful day.
Admittedly, my moves are strong. I skate fast with a lot of power. But will I command the ice when my stomach is churning? I decided to apply for the Pre-Bronze adult freestyle test to experience a testing situation in which the actually skating elements are second nature. I will only have to focus on controlling my anxiety rather than thinking about the skills. The movements covered in Pre-Bronze are as comfortable to me as walking down the street or plopping my lazy butt onto the couch. Hopefully, the Pre-Bronze test will build my confidence, so I won’t need a sick bag on Preliminary MITF Day.
Nothing makes me feel better about skating than my coach recognizing my hard work and declaring the results testable.
Week of March 19, 2001; Part Two
I always wanted to be able to do an outside spread eagle, but held little hope of actually achieving this aspiration. A fellow adult skater who does an exquisite Ina Bauer told me she worked on that move for fifteen minutes during every session, and it took months. I adopted her philosophy and applied it with success to the Preliminary moves in the field alternating forward three-turns. However, I modified the strategy to accommodate longer term, less pressing endeavors. Instead of investing a full fifteen minutes every skating day on a specific skill, which can become tedious and exhausting, I reduced the allotment to five minutes.
For five minutes during most every session, I work on a “hope chest” element, a skill I hope to have in the future. I presently devote a few minutes to outside eagles and another few minutes to opposite direction spinning, usually toward the end of the session when I am tired and have spent quality and quantity time on more important goals. I do not become distraught if these elements progress slowly since they are not required on any test. However, setting aside a few moments for each has yielded encouraging results. This week, I spanned the width of the arena in an outside spread eagle. My blades shaved snow off the ice surface as I fought to maintain the correct edge, but I could not hold this position for more than a second last autumn. The position is not beautiful and would be more accurately classified as a constipated eagle. At this point, “constipated” beats “nonexistent”, though I want to move beyond the protruding buttocks stage in the coming months.
Opposite direction spinning is less difficult for me than an outside eagle, yet it is far from easy. As a natural clockwise spinner, I can presently complete about three somewhat lopsided counterclockwise rotations in the camel and attitude positions. The individual turns do not overlay neatly, nor can I hook the camel, according to the Gus Lussi method. These are rough beginner spins, but maybe once a week I hit a mirror camel that rotates smoothly for about five revolutions before I step onto the right foot and hook its clockwise reflection. Another adult skater observed one of my opposite camels and asked what was wrong, because I usually spin much faster. I explained that I was working on reverse spinning. “That was in the other direction?” she asked in amazement. I know several adults who would not mind performing three or five slow but steady rotations in their favored direction.
I should add two more skills to my “five minute miracles”: the death drop and flying sit spin. These are higher impact elements, and I can only land a limited number of jumps in a sit spin position per day, usually depleting my quota with butterflies. Although I learned the flying sit and death drop months ago, I rarely spend much time on them, mainly because I have other priorities. However, I would like to make progress on these skills even if it is only for a few minutes a couple of times per week.
A “five minute miracle” is a worthwhile addition to any skater’s practice agenda. Of course, no skater can faithfully maintain more than a few of them. Five minutes here and there adds up to a significant portion of a session. Reserved for personal satisfaction, “five minute miracles” should be long term goals that are not attached to testing or competitive deadlines. Investing brief periods at the end of a session or whenever the skater needs a break from frustration attached to an uncooperative critical element, can lead to gratifying results.
Week of March 26, 2001
Only three adult skaters shared the ice at the beginning of the session. One of them took a lesson while the other practiced spins, and I warmed up with edges and three-turns on a hockey line. In the middle of the rink, an adult student worked on waltz jumps with her instructor, Harold. For about ten minutes everyone coexisted peacefully, all the while I traversed the blue line. Harold decided it was time for his student to skate edges on a hockey line and placed her at the other end of the very same line I was using! With so few people on the ice and the other two hockey lines unoccupied, this coach could have easily respected my practice area and took his student a few paces down-rink to the central red line. Instead he treated me like an insect, stepping on me just as happily as acknowledging my existence.
Had the rink been crowded or if other people already claimed all of the hockey lines, I would have gladly yielded to allow another person space for a lesson. I honor other skaters’ rights to lesson ice and avoid areas where a coach and student are working together. However, I was disappointed in Harold’s blatant disregard for my presence in that rink. His actions begged the question: “Is this really necessary?” Did he absolutely have to use that particular line? Of course, I simply moved to the red line and continued my exercises without terrific inconvenience. However, I object to his rudeness and lack of consideration. I wonder if he intentionally pushed me aside or if he meanders through life in a continuous daze unaware of other human beings.
I barely know Harold beyond saying “hello”, so the action was probably not motivated by personal dislike. Nor is he famous coach who might have a reputation for eccentric behavior. He had to see me patiently cutting lobes on that line for the previous ten minutes, but decided not to extend common courtesy to another skater. He also may have been completely oblivious to anyone else in the vicinity, concentrating only on his student. I have often contemplated the selfish actions displayed by some skaters, often dismissing it as the nature of a sport where there is a limited amount of ice and a surplus of participants. The strong and determined can push the meek to the boards, thus availing the ice for themselves. However, some skaters may actually learn poor rink etiquette from self-absorbed coaches who could otherwise set a positive example of proper manners and respect for others.
The content of this site is copyright by K. J. N., 1999 - 2001
This was a week for MITF epiphanies. I also discovered the wonders of the Juvenile forward to backward double three-turns and played with Intermediate backward to forward double threes. The color coded diagram (right) shows the turns involved in all versions of counterclockwise double threes. Clockwise double threes are performed similarly. These exercises have made the Pre-Juvenile three-turns in the field simpler. I actually find double threes relatively easy. Momentum from the first three-turn facilitates the second one. The edges also do not have to be held as long. The only double three patterns that I cannot do with some level of competence are the back inside to forward outsides, because my backward inside three-turns are still weak. I have decided to work on them with the same zeal that led to mastery of the Preliminary alternating forward threes on the hockey line. All of my other Pre-Juvenile skills are quite strong, and I look forward to starting the Juvenile exercises.
Five Minute Miracles
Hockey Line Hog
