March 2002
Week of March 3, 2002
Hopeful Detour
After last week’s drought cancellation of my favorite skating session, I relocated to another rink and have approached a new coach for lessons. This coach is not completely new. I am familiar with her reputation and credentials. She is accomplished as a skater and instructor and has experience working with adults. She floats like an angel over the ice and has a creative flare for inventing spin variations that may be a subtle as a unique arm movement or as interesting as a catch-foot backward layback. I would like to learn the backward layback, it would make a nice accompaniment to my backward attitude spin. Last summer, I considered taking lessons from this coach because I did not skate the crowded expensive freestyle sessions at my usual ice palace and notified Geoff that I might cheat on him with another skating pro. Unfortunately, those lessons never came to fruition because my alternate rink’s public sessions were too unpredictable to merit committing to a regular lesson schedule.
Since this coach and I have been acquainted for a couple of years, I did not feel uncomfortable asking her for lessons. However, I chose to do this in private when other students and skaters were not within earshot. Had she been uninterested in teaching me, she could have politely declined. But she handed me her card, made an appointment for next week, and smiled warmly.
I left the rink excited like a child a few days before Christmas when beribboned gift boxes begin to appear under the tree. After over three years with one coach, a fresh perspective is absolutely welcomed. I cannot discredit Geoff; he is an excellent instructor, and I have learned many new skills and perfected countless others under his watchful eye. However, our meetings had grown stale and fell into a routine of practicing the same jumps and spins. This monotony is partially my fault because I am not building toward testing with new programs and deadlines. However, Geoff seems to be a very athletic skater and has nurtured that dimension of my abilities. I would certainly appreciate the same enormous jump done with feather-like quality or a delicate new twist on the flying camel that I crank out like a strongman on figure skates.
I look forward to exploring what this coach has to offer. She apparently has different strengths than Geoff, as evidenced by how she works with her students. My skating may lack prettiness, that aesthetic quality of effortless poised movement, as one glorious posture melts into another. Blades barely touch ice as they turn and stroke, interacting harmoniously with the surface rather than struggling. I wish to skim the frozen medium, glossing over it while passing from jump to spin to gliding extension. Now I fear my blades adhere to the ice like barnacles to the hull of an unwilling vessel, enjoying the ride by not controlling its course. Perhaps the new coach can instill in my skating some the graceful spontaneous character that is currently absent.
This unexpected detour has filled me with hope.
Week of March 3, 2002; Part Two
Rink Character
Every rink has one; that individual who is little quirky, maybe slightly off-center. Not someone scary, just someone different, maybe a bit eccentric, possibly a person who likes to present himself as an enigma. And this place has a humdinger! Without ever seeing the guy in the building, I can smell his cologne. It diffuses through the vastness of the arena treating everyone in attendance to its sickening scent. This man wears so much cologne that it could cause death in laboratory rodents and genetic mutation in fruit flies. If he has loitered in one corner of the rink, its concentration is noticeably higher to skaters passing through.
The stench alone might be enough to classify this elderly fellow as a character, but his story gets even more bizarre. He comes to the rink wearing a faded red-white-and-blue windbreaker with “Skating Guard” ironed onto the back in peeling letters. This thing is as likely to have been acquired at a garage sale as anywhere else, though the man claims to have been a coach at one time. While I have never met anyone who can confirm his tale of past glory, this man may have taught some type of lessons during his lifetime. I have certainly seen enough people who lack the skills to take a dog for a romp in the snow proclaiming themselves skating pros.
No, he is not a good skater. However, that does not mean he never moved competently on a pair of blades. The passage of time coupled with injury, health issues, and disuse can result in the disappearance of a former skater’s abilities. Probably lonesome and looking to connect with other human beings, this man seemingly comes to the rink for the sole purpose of trying to force his advice upon other skaters. Since he cornered me a few months ago with his expertise and outrageous bragging about the accomplishments of his middle-aged children, I have made a point to steer clear of the man, avoiding eye contact and gravitating toward the opposite end of the rink. After politely saying “Hello,” I continue with my practice, never again giving him a chance to back me up against the boards.
Free advice is generally worth what you pay for it, and I keep that in mind whenever it is offered. Personally, I avoid offering unsolicited skating advice to anyone. While most fantasy coaches mean well and genuinely want to help, their input should be taken with a grain of salt, though some friendly advice can be worthwhile. Establishing relationships with other people who frequent a rink is a valuable asset to adult skaters. Supportive feedback can be an important part of any skater’s development. However, communication between friends is different from someone continuously butting in claiming omnipotence. I have observed this odoriferous fellow following people around ready to interject a remark. He has opinions on jumps and spins of all levels of difficulty, indiscriminately pestering adults and teenagers spanning the full ability spectrum. Charitably, he helps beginners get on the ice and assists children who fall. While I respect his willingness to work with others, I do not appreciate his eagerness to dissect my skills, especially since I cannot verify whether if he knows his ass from his elbow.
I actually debated practicing my embryonic double salchow with this person in the rink but decided to ignore him and skate as I pleased. Eerily, I felt his eyeballs following my every movement and became too distracted to focus on jumping. Eventually he shot a piece of inane advice in my direction: “Disconnect your mind from your blade.” Now I really needed to gather my composure. Standing by the barrier, I shut down my overloaded olfactory system and blocked the nuisance from my thoughts. I took another pass, landed the silly jump and moved on to flying camels. A few minutes later, I heard the old fart bestowing the same idiotic wisdom upon a guy in hockey skates.
Finally, I understood this man’s objective. He comes to the rink dressed in a “Skating Guard” jacket and pretends to work there! This must satisfy his subconscious need to be teacher, lifeguard, policeman and authority figure. He does not work for this facility but did have me fooled over the summer. I assumed he was a retiree who took a part-time job to get out of the house and alleviate boredom. Not so. He was not employed by the rink then and is not now, though one of his annoying habits involves counting down the minutes before the Zamboni comes out ending the session. All of the kids and parents at a public session assume he is the man in charge. Once you get beyond how irritating he can be, it is actually rather pathetic.
Week of March 10, 2002
Meet Cynthia
I have officially taken a lesson with my new coach, whom I shall call “Cynthia”**. I was extremely excited about this lesson. Maybe some part of me still believes in magic bullets, whether it is a new pair of stiffer boots, a better session, or a different coach; but this change has filled me with hope. Cynthia greeted me on the ice and we talked for a few minutes about my skating interests. Then she asked to review my basic jumps, starting with the waltz. I skated quickly around the rink, set up, then leaped into one waltz followed by a second. As the series progresses, my jumps tend to become stronger. Geoff has also commented on this, as did Cynthia as soon as I glided to a stop.
“Do you know why your first jump is weaker?” she probed.
I always thought I needed a little momentum to get going, otherwise I had no clue. Cynthia identified a technical flaw immediately. She only needed to witness those two hops to unravel the underlying reason for my difficulties with axels and double salchows. On the back outside preparatory edge, I tend to open my hips, rotating my torso forward in anticipation of the take-off. This deepens the backward outside edge, necessitating a forward step that also curves deeply. Before even casting my free leg forward, my body is out of control causing me to jump around myself. After landing the first jump, I glide backward on a controlled landing edge, step forward nicely, and jump perfectly straight on all subsequent waltzes.
She demonstrated the correct preparation, which felt terribly awkward, as my body fought its desire to open and eagerly face the jump. This one flaw explains why my waltzes have never been exceptionally big and why I struggled with the axel. Jumping around one’s self is a common axel stumbling block, which in my case, may have been rooted in a technical peculiarity at the fundamental waltz jump stage. This may be why Geoff wanted me to do an axel in sequence following two waltz jumps; a method which yielded some success. Cynthia identified a similar problem in the salchow and a related error in the toe loop. We spent the entire lesson on these rudimentary skills. For the rest of the session, I fought to break bad habits, investing in an hour of remediation.
Had I been in a discouraged mood, this revelation may have been terribly upsetting. After years of skating, if I still cannot get the most fundamental jumps right, what am I doing in this sport? However, I had a great warm-up and approached Cynthia’s corrections with a positive attitude. This fine tuning, something I actually sought from Cynthia, may lead to improved jumps and unlock my multi-rotation potential. At least she found a possible explanation for my jumping problems other than I’m too old, too big, or too chicken. Even advanced athletes grappling with triples often have to revisit their singles to correct subtle imperfections. I had hoped to forge ahead with my new coach into previously uncharted territory, perhaps learning a backward layback or a beautiful choreographic pattern. Cynthia busted me all the way back to the drawing board.
So where was Geoff all the while I was making this simple mistake? Why didn’t he recognize this deficiency? When I started taking lessons from Geoff, he also reviewed my basic skills, and we spent plenty of time on the salchow, which was never my best jump. He fixed its curviness and eventually developed it into a beginner’s double. Maybe Geoff had also addressed this current issue at some point, but I slipped back into my old ways. He might not have noticed the gradual deterioration. I hate to think Geoff intentionally ignored such a fundamental error and allowed it to propagate. I do not think Geoff is the type of instructor who gives up on less promising students or does not take adults seriously. I learned a lot with him. He developed my speed and power while encouraging me to try tricks I only dreamed about.
I have formulated several reasons for Geoff’s possible oversight.
- The Law of Varying Techniques
Skating is an inexact science. There is more than one way to perform various elements. Similarly, there is more than one way to teach those elements. Some schools of thought may find my technique acceptable. - The “You’ve Come a Long Way, Baby” Principle
Geoff was so satisfied with the improvements from the initial sorry state of my jumps; that, for all intents and purposes, the transformation could be considered complete. - Communication Breakdown
Geoff tried and tried (and tried!) to fix this problem, but it either did not stick or he failed to express and/or demonstrate the proper method in terms that made sense to me. - Experience is the Best Teacher
Cynthia is about twenty years older than Geoff, and therefore more experienced. She also has extensive experience working with adults. Over the years, Cynthia has probably learned the best ways to teach various skills to her pupils. - Easy Doesn’t Do It
Single jumps (including the waltz, in this instance) are so easy that they can be completed with little or no understanding of technique. Technique is virtually unnecessary to execute something resembling a salchow. A simple salchow can be performed as a step, without even springing into the air. It can be done with legs wide, arms flailing and buttocks protruding. Problems arise at more advanced levels; when a skater, who can do a single at top speed, suddenly discovers its shortcomings. My singles are so powerful and fast that subtle defects become lost in the noise and difficult to diagnose. - The Strengths and Weaknesses Axiom
Cynthia seems to have an exquisite understanding of the biomechanics of skating. She competed at the senior level in the days of school figures. She is a master of edgework. Undoubtedly, she liked figures and scored well in compulsory competitions. As a professional, she passes her understanding of body position and control to her students in all aspects of skating. This is one of Cynthia’s strengths. It may not be one of Geoff’s.
** Not her real name.
Week of March 10, 2002; Part Two
Laybacks: Ten for a Dollar
I took a second lesson from my new coach, Cynthia, this week. To my delight, we worked on spins. Although she rather generously said my spins are good, and she can probably contribute little to their improvement, Cynthia offered valuable advice.
She suggested a new arm position to make my basic sit spin more attractive. Though my usual pose is not incorrect, this novel variant enhances its aesthetic appeal. Ordinarily, I leave my arms extended straight in front of my body while rotating. She suggested reaching the arms downward toward the free leg to close the position. As expected, this improvement threw off my balance, but I managed to complete a nice sit spin adopting the variation. Unfortunately, I could not demonstrate a good sit-change-sit, which has always been my most challenging standard combination. Geoff spent ample time on this skill, but recently I have neglected it, far preferring the more natural camel-change-camel, something I performed to Cynthia’s satisfaction.
Since Geoff unlocked the mystery of the backspin, I have worked on it during every session; not to the point of exhaustion, but enough to make gradual progress. While my backspin is reasonably decent, Cynthia offered a very interesting recommendation. Instead of squaring the shoulders while rotating, the shoulders should remain slightly off-set toward the skating side. This does not mean drop the employed shoulder, merely allow it to drift back slightly. She says this position, when utilized during multi-revolution jumps allows the skater increased control over unhinging his free leg and checking out. Her slight correction improved my backspin. Someday I may pull one of these hard enough to blur.
Enthusiastically, I accommodated my new coach’s request for a layback. I spun like a gyroscope, reaching my arms upward in graceful flourishes. Cynthia complimented its speed, but my shoulders were not parallel to the ice. I tend to tip my free side further back than my skating side, leaving one shoulder higher than the other. While this is not technically incorrect, another look may be achieved in which the layback resembles a gymnastic backbend. We stood by the boards and she molded my body into the desired shape. To further enhance the effect, Cynthia told me to reach my free arm across my chest, touching my left hand to the right shoulder (as a clockwise spinner, I perform forward spins on my right leg, making the right side my employed side). I should physically push the shoulder down and to the left, as though forcing it diagonally across my back. Meanwhile, my head turns slightly to the right, further leveling the shoulders. This method worked wonderfully. I have a brand new layback.
I have no intention of dumping my original layback. A credible variation, it adds diversity to my repertoire. This backbend layback more closely resembles the textbook position that merits praise from gushing commentators during ladies competitions. I practiced it over and over, each time using my hand to force my shoulder down. This training tool will help me to achieve the position artificially until it becomes second nature. Usually my practices sparkle with laybacks; at the very least including one toward the beginning of my freeskating warm-up and another as the session’s grand finale. With a new trick to master, I worked on the backbend religiously. I have done laybacks for years, and have no excuse for not owning an absolutely exquisite one.
My back, shoulder and neck ached when I left the rink, but a smile brightened my face. This type of soreness indicates progress. It originates from muscles being used in a way to which they are unaccustomed, striving for a skill that is different and better. I challenged my body to twist and contort into a superior posture, one that requires effort and practice. After only two lessons from Cynthia, I am a better skater today than I was last week. The difference is not a profound order-of-magnitude discontinuity. Possibly no one would notice it but me. My technique is improving, solidifying the foundation upon which I may build more advanced skills.
Week of March 17, 2002
Three Lessons
I took three lessons from Cynthia this week, setting a record for time spent on lesson during a given seven day period. Hungry for my new coach’s advice, I want to fix all of my deficiencies and begin to move forward once again. Discovering flaws where I thought none existed can be discouraging, but I prefer to correct them rather than remain blissfully ignorant.
~Jumps~
Bad habits have probably accompanied me for years on simple elements like the waltz. However, Cynthia showed me an approach that has effectively reduced, and will ultimately eliminate, the swinginess of my free leg, the probable saboteur of my sorry axel. Employing a loop preparation, the torso remains squarely facing forward with the clockwise skater’s weight balanced over the left side. Instead of executing a loop jump, the skater steps forward slightly outside the circle of travel as the arms draw back in a moment of tension prior launching forward into a waltz jump. This method (which also applies to the salchow) has straightened my entrance edge and resulted in a pop of hang-time with which I might someday do something useful like an axel.
The worst of my basic jumping skills is the lutz. Although my lutz has improved dramatically, I still tend to “flutz”, changing edges an instant before take-off, technically transforming the jump into a flip. I am not the only flutzer on earth and am actually in good company with many accomplished champions. Cynthia remedied my flutz with a simple suggestion. Rather than winding up my shoulders and hips against the rotation direction, I should remain perfectly square, facing straight ahead while gliding on a right backward edge into the lefties’ lutz corner. This approach is remarkably similar to the waltz/salchow technique but is performed counterclockwise. After vaulting, releasing my shoulders and pushing off the toe pick initiates an aerial backspin. For the first time, I felt an explosion of rotation in my lutz.
Cynthia declared my flip jump perfect! No comments, other than “don’t change a thing”.
~Moves in the Field~
Footwork has never been my strong suit. In fairness to my former coach, I took very few footwork lessons recently. I almost dreaded learning just how poor my moves really are. However, improving my basic skating skills has become a priority and I welcomed Cynthia’s scrutiny.
Her advice has resulted in significant improvement of my notoriously bad backward inside three-turns. I can do them reasonably well now, though they will not win any medals in a moves competition. Enjoying my newly found ability, I incorporated backward inside three-turns into some self-choreographed footwork that I play with while resting or staying out of the way. Cynthia’s basic tip involves practicing two footed ‘training wheels’ turns on a hockey circle. “Imagine the hockey circle as the base of a gigantic cone that peaks at the ceiling. Tuck your butt in and pretend to lean on that cone,” she directed, and it worked.
The big, giant cone analogy appeared again as she evaluated my eight-step mohawk pattern. I have to tuck my butt under and lean on the cone. The aesthetics of my pattern can also be improved my tightening the steps. I tend to step wide, almost doing a spread eagle in place of the outside mohawk turn.
In about five minutes, Cynthia transformed my forward cross strokes from something decent into something good. The backward counterparts presented a greater challenge. Previously, my backward cross strokes were quick choppy steps, entirely lacking the graceful deliberate extensions that give this move its beauty. Cynthia contorted my body into the proper position with the free leg extended and turned out. This odd, uncomfortable and scary posture is key to beautiful backward cross strokes.
Cynthia also introduced me to brackets, counter-rotational turns incorporating a change of edge. Bracket turns are almost universally regarded as difficult and are often the first counter-rotational turns learned by developing skaters. The inside brackets dawned on me immediately, though I find the forward variants slightly easier. The backward outside brackets are the worst of the lot. Combining a backward outside edge with awkward twisting and scissoring of the free leg seems as likely to yield a bump on the head as a turn. These have a long way to go.
Overall, it was a good skating week. In spite of numerous flaws, Cynthia gave me the ultimate compliment: “You don’t skate like an adult.” I left the rink smiling.
Week of March 24, 2002
Rude Awakening
Although the session was crowded, I decided to take a spinning lesson with Cynthia hoping my new backbend layback had improved. Unfortunately, I attain a strange twisted position before entering the backbend. Presumably, I have suffered from this bad habit for many years. My layback has always been a favorite move, one that received numerous compliments from fellow skaters. I feel like a real skater when I do it, not like a recreational adult muddling through whatever works at the time. Eager to polish my technique, I work diligently to correct the flaws that Cynthia identifies. However, some of the things she points out are so subtle (and probably deeply ingrained) that I am not aware that I am doing them and cannot even feel the mistake in question. Attempting to straighten my shoulders or hold my arms a certain way, I am completely oblivious to the error. Practicing these skills independently may be unproductive or even counterproductive, especially if I think I have corrected the blunder when, in fact, it continues to propagate.
“I should bring a video camera so I can show you what you’re doing,” Cynthia suggested.
Embarrassing images of clumsy adult skaters doing basic toe loop jumps with their arms flailing overhead filled my mind. I may not be able to perform the most advanced skating tricks, but whatever I can do, I strive to do well. That has been my unspoken goal. I tend not to set test, competition or skill based goals; preferring to simply skate to the best of my ability, which means executing each element neatly and cleanly without superfluous spasms. Although I understood Cynthia’s comments, I was helpless to prevent my shoulder from tweaking, and dreaded seeing the monstrosity on a television screen. Suddenly self-conscious, I tried to laugh off my discomfort.
“If I had to watch a tape of how badly my skating really sucks, I’m afraid I might quit this sport, ” I declared with a chuckle, though I have actually heard of such things happening
Apparently so had Cynthia. “Oh, no, Kay!” she admonished. “You would be impressed with these spins. You are really a very good skater.”
Have I been walking around in a fog thinking my skating looks attractive when in truth it contains so many funky quirks that I appear just as silly as the adults with flailing arms that I often find myself pitying? Laughing outwardly; on the inside, I was very upset. But not with Cynthia. I appreciate her constructive criticism. Her input is improving my skating. However, after taking years of lessons from Geoff, and Oscar before him, why didn’t one of those coaches address my weaknesses? These faults did not mysteriously blink into existence the moment Cynthia and I met. They have probably plagued me for years, the layback idiosyncrasy for most of the time I have been skating. Maybe neither previous coach was oriented toward the aesthetics of skating, both emphasizing speed and power over elegance and fluidity. I am both fast and powerful but entirely lacking in grace, keeping company with many competitive skaters who suffer from the same deficiency. My technical score would definitely surpass my presentation mark.
While I really cannot blame past coaches for these setbacks, I wish I had sought advice from someone who specializes in artistry and fine technique earlier. This has been a rude awakening.
On a positive note, Cynthia helped me with the flying sit, an element I have desired for a long time but have been unable to comprehend. I actually achieved the required skid entry instead of a sloppy three-turn.
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