May 2002
May 1 - 4, 2002
The Hockey Stick
Early in the week, I had a lousy day of skating, one that made me wonder what the heck I am doing in this sport. I must be out of my mind. However, I planned to skate three times this week and returned to the rink as much out of habit as determination. I even took an extra long lesson to make up for lost time.
Cynthia drilled me on all of the jumps, looking for progress on her list of corrections and adding new suggestions for further improvement. She started me on the toe walley, a little hop that I find surprisingly fun and easy. My swingy waltz has improved dramatically. Unfortunately, my toe loop still curves too much. She taught me a mechanical series of steps forcing control in the initiating three-turn. This preparation feels utterly weird and too structured for a free spirited skater like me. Cynthia told me I have the potential to learn the axel and some doubles, but I have to master these techniques, so I take her corrections very seriously and work on them during every practice.
On to the little problem of my tweaking shoulder that tarnishes the beauty of my spins. I spin clockwise, meaning my forward spins occur on the right foot. As I enter an upright spin such as a scratch or a layback, I have developed the unsavory habit of twisting my right shoulder such that it blocks the spin. I can spin very fast and center on a dime, in spite of this handicap that has probably accompanied me since my beginner days. Unable to will the shoulder to behave properly, Cynthia looked for a physical crutch to aide in the corrective process. She scrounged a broken hockey stick out of the penalty box and showed me how to grasp the splintered implement on both ends while spinning.
I have never skated with a prop and regarded the stick dubiously. Yet, I followed her instruction and entered my spin. The quirk vanished immediately. I repeated the spin several times, each time rotating faster until my hands tingled and Cynthia smiled with satisfaction. Straightening my shoulder contributed to the aerodynamics of rotation, allowing me to spin even more rapidly.
“If you let go of that hockey stick and pulled in, you would have had a Ronnie Robertson spin,” she declared. Ronnie Robertson was a champion in the 1950s, following Dick Button’s reign. Known for his phenomenal spins, he set a world record for rotational speed of 7-8 turns per second, faster than an electric fan. While I doubt I will ever spin that quickly, comparing one of my humble spins to those of the late master himself is the ultimate compliment.
After Cynthia left, I worked with the hockey stick again. I spun until my hands burned and fingers swelled. What an amazing sensation! Without the stick, my shoulder found the proper position, and I rotated reminiscent of Robertson’s legendary fan, pulling my arms and free leg in and drilling a small circle into the ice. Spider vein bruises freckled my hands. I tried a backspin next. The backspin has never been my best skill, but this one was brilliant. Someday I may blur backward. Then I completed a camel-jump-camel-back sit-change-forward sit-scratch combination that could have won a spin competition by a landslide.
I leaned on the barrier, infinitely pleased. This is why I skate, for moments of achievement when I exceed all expectation. I suspect my spins will always surpass my jumps, but at least Cynthia has found a correctable reason for my jumping deficiencies. This week may have started badly, but it concluded with some of the best spins of my entire skating career. And I am becoming more comfortable with Cynthia’s precision jumping techniques.
Week of May 5, 2002
Three Cheers for the New Gal
An adult skater I had never seen before entered the rink a few minutes before I stepped on the ice. We crossed paths and exchanged pleasant hellos. The woman circled the ice a few times before stopping at the boom box. A teenage girl was playing a tape rather loudly and the new lady decided to turn the music down. The teen met the new person at the tape machine and they exchanged words I could not overhear, aside from the woman’s straightforward declaration that the music was simply too loud. I nearly jumped up and down cheering! How many times has a child headed directly for the cassette player only seconds after joining the fray and ejected my tape in favor of one of his or her own? It has happened countless times, and it drives me crazy. Many kids do not even think before imposing their will on others. Their message unambiguously shouts: “I’m here now, everyone else get out of my way”. Subsequent behavior usually includes dirty looks, near misses, “heads up”, and insincere apologies after cutting through an adult’s jump preparation.
I wasted no time introducing myself to the newcomer. Laughing, I praised her for being so assertive. Most of the adult skaters I know suffer in silence through the selfish antics of younger skaters. As adults, we try not to be petty and to choose our battles wisely. Starting an argument over a tape player with a spoiled child is usually not worth our breath, yet we stew internally. Our primary concern generally focuses on maintaining sufficient space to practice our skills, knowing very well that if we back down and cower by the boards, the adolescents will seize our freed ice.
“We are all on this session together and we have to share. That blaring music was not fair to the rest of us,” the woman proclaimed. Having never ventured into this rink before, the new gal had already decided what she would not tolerate. I admired her immediately. No one was going to shove her into a corner.
Unfortunately she did not stay long, though she promised to return next week. As soon as the unfamiliar face left the building, the teenage girls cranked up the volume again. There were still three other adult skaters in the place, but these kids had already tested our boundaries and apparently categorized us as pushovers. Ashamed of my prior meekness, I approached the sound system and turned the noise down to an appropriate level. This music was so deafening, that my eardrums physically hurt as I stood beside the controls looking for the volume knob. None of us had tried to commandeer the player and force our musical preferences upon everyone, we simply wanted to maintain a comfortable atmosphere. The kids evidently got the message. Some of adult skating’s victories are very small.
Week of May 12, 2001
The Talented Kid
Public sessions are a grab bag. This week I enjoyed a couple of excellent days with hardly anyone on the ice, and actually skated alone for an entire two hours. On the third day, a large crowd of middle school children attended the session. As they flowed in, I expected the worst. Unlike many youth groups, this assembly of children did not play tag, race or lie around on the ice. They screamed a lot, though I cannot image why. Maybe kids just like to scream and listen to the echo. Aside from the shrieking, these were good kids, just enjoying themselves in an ice rink. They were not rowdy or unruly, though they tended to crisscross the center sometimes; however, this behavior was obviously not intended to be malicious or bothersome. Lacking prior experience, they simply wandered wherever their blades took them. Of course, no skate guard monitored the session, but in general, the kids behaved well enough that one was not necessary.
A fellow adult skater approached me as I leaned on the barrier taking a short break.
“Look at that,” she indicated pointing toward a lanky twelve-year-old boy who spun adeptly in his rented boots. “I can’t do a two-foot spin that well!”
The two-foot spin is a fundamental maneuver usually performed by beginners as a means of becoming accustomed to rotating on the ice. Except for advanced cross-legged versions, two-foot spins are rarely seen beyond the most preliminary levels. Adults tend to forget their two-foot spins shortly after learning a one-foot version. While spinning on a single blade may look more difficult to the layman, developing skaters can have more trouble gathering speed with the resistance of both blades on the ice. I have known many adults who decide to start testing after mastering a respectable repertoire of elements, certainly enough to pass the first couple of freestyle tests. However, these people realize they no longer own a two-foot spin and often sneak through their examinations by grazing the blade of the second foot on the ice while essentially executing a one-foot spin.
“That’s not bad,” I agreed watching the fellow twirl. He pulled in his arms to build speed demonstrating an innate understanding of skating principles.
My friend approached the child and asked if he skated regularly. The kid admitted he had not skated before. We did not ascertain whether the youngster had never ice skated before or had never skated in general. I pegged the kid for an inline skater.
The boy asked me for spinning tips a few minutes later. After praising his two-foot spin, I showed him the one-foot analog. He only succeeded in learning how to pivot and revolve on his toe pick but displayed considerable promise. I encouraged him to keep practicing.
During the session, the same fellow jumped over hockey lines in enormous leaps, tucking his legs under his backside in an aerial cannonball position. He also skated backward employing a combination of stroking and swizzles while pulling a little girl along. If this kid had never been on skates of any sort before, he is a natural talent. Given some lessons, practice, and appropriate equipment; the boy could potentially become a very good ice skater. Obviously well coordinated, physically fit and fearless; this young man could choose between a variety of sports and achieve a high level of competence in any of them. The child is probably involved in other athletic activities and most likely will not pursue skating beyond a school field trip or birthday party.
As a longtime fan of skating and recreational participant, I have only observed those people who are given the opportunity to skate and those who create that opportunity for themselves. How many others possess the talent to become good, or even great, but for various reasons never try skating? Some of these latent prodigies may outshine those who are blessed with unlimited coaching and ice time.
Week of May 19, 2002
The Sinus Infection
Sick again -- this time with the sinus infection from hell. It started in the middle of last week as an evening headache that I associated with allergies or too much time in front of the computer. By Friday night, I could barely open my eyes. On Saturday, I went to the doctor and he prescribed antibiotics and a mild pain reliever. Neither of these worked; although I managed to numb the pain with the prescription medication and a handful of over-the-counter drugs and went to the rink when a sensible person would have stayed home. The cold rink air seemed to sooth my throbbing scull, and scratch spins cleared my nasal passages. However, the misery returned as soon as I got to the parking lot. By Wednesday, the headache was so severe I could not get out of bed. My father telephoned to check on me and my husband came home from work to shuttle me back to the doctor’s office. This time, I got a different antibiotic and some real painkillers.
The next day, I could function and was tempted to go to the rink. However, I thought the better of it and only drove to the park to roller skate. If my head started to pound, I could return home without getting on a freeway or fighting traffic. The fresh air and exercise revitalized me. I got home, swallowed a couple of pills and sewed a new pair of jazz pants for skating.
By Friday, I felt almost normal and decided to brave the commute to the ice arena. I donned my newly created exercise pants, popped a pill, and got into the car. What a wonderful session! I could not have asked for a better session. Only a few adults and a couple of public skaters attended. I practiced everything on my list from my favorite spins to Cynthia’s corrections. I invested over an hour in moves in the field, which are one of my personal priorities. My backward inside three-turns were rather good. They turned neatly with a smooth flowing amount of speed; nothing that would leave a panel of stoic judges flabbergasted by an inspirational example of adult skating, but a definite improvement over their former wretchedness.
Toward the end of my stay, I decided to attempt a double salchow. I had already been skating for two-and-a-half hours. Utilizing Cynthia’s jump preparation technique, I warmed up with singles and salchow-loop combinations. The first double tested the frozen waters. The second landed, as did the third. They may be slightly smaller and homelier than the jumps I did earlier in the season, but the double salchow appears to be engrained in my skating subconscious. Tired and out of practice, I can still produce one. I skated for a total of three hours and did not need another magic tablet.
Week of May 26, 2002
Choctaws, Twizzles and Extensions
Many skaters, including adults and competitive young people, lack basic skating skills. Kids can generally manage a good deal of speed but suffer from other deficiencies. Unfortunately, the problem is usually more acute in adults. We are often slow, unable to perform basic footwork, and lacking flow and correct posture. My husband is more impressed by watching a person who covers the ice beautifully than someone who can land a triple. Triples and big doubles are usually the domain of athletes who were trained as children. However, the mature skater who moves with conviction and commands the ice surface, evokes a sense of awe. The person appears to be flying whether or not he ever actually jumps. I would like my husband to see me fly.
I can generate serious speed and have strong basic moves in the field patterns. However, I want to learn other attractive ways to cover the ice that are more choreographically interesting. This week, I asked Cynthia to teach me some graceful footwork.
She began by introducing choctaws, counter rotational turns that do not involve a change of edge. I learned the right forward outside variant readily, but could not force my stiff body to execute the left-legged counterpart. Later in the week, I did manage to perform left forward outside choctaws in a triumph of willpower over self-preservation. When Cynthia began to demonstrate backward outside choctaws, a couple of experimental efforts revealed that I should stick with the basic forward version for now.
Next she taught me a lovely pattern that involves the lean of a choctaw followed by a change of edge into a forward inside three-turn. Cynthia called this skill “twizzles”, though she admitted she could not be certain if that was their proper name. Again, I could do the right-legged twizzle readily, but the left-sided version seemed awkward. My problem occurred in the swing of the free leg into the leaning posture prior to the pulled change of edge. I could not control the edge on my left side. Working on twizzles will ultimately improve my choctaws by teaching correct body position with an easier turn.
She also showed me a simple but gorgeous pattern of extensions (see diagram). A mohawk turn flows into a backward crossover followed by a step into a sweeping forward outside edge extension with a crossover concluding the repeat unit. Similarly, the pattern may also be performed as its mirror image. This exercise came complete with accompanying arm movements that gave the very simple skill a polished sophisticated look. I could do these steps immediately, and repetition led to grace and comfort. This fun little pattern would dazzle any on-looker with its fluid elegance, if performed at speed. Circling the rink after my lesson, the extension footwork became faster and smoother with every lap. My twizzles are also developing nicely.
Cynthia commented on the unwillingness of certain adult students to concentrate on fundamental skating skills. Taking advantage of uncrowded sessions by practicing footwork and moves is an effective way to improve my overall skating. At this point, I need ice coverage. I spin like an expert and perform powerful single jumps. My doubles are on hold, for now. Cynthia’s extension and twizzle patterns will make me look far more impressive than a klutzy double, though I get a thrill out landing the slovenly little things. I hope to learn more footwork elements next week. Maybe some dances?
Friday, May 31, 2002
While I Was at the Rink
I logged six hours of ice time this week in only two days of skating. Overall, I am skating well and my body feels in good condition.
Upon arriving home from a long skate on Friday, I glanced up at the open windows but no cats appeared to greet me. Inside the cats stretch out on the linoleum, spent. It was not hot enough for them to look so drained. I unloaded my case, water bottle, and butt bag. My first order of business was to use the lavatory.
I gasped in shock at the messiness of the bathroom. A shelf had been toppled; scattering cosmetics, knick-knacks, and hair accessories all over the floor. Eye shadow compacts had broken open leaving glistening powder on the tile and in the grout. Two cats sat guiltily on the windowsill. The screen had been pushed out and one of the cats prepared to dive through.
“Bad kitties!” I scolded, grabbing the potential escapee and closing the window. “Look at the mess you made!” I began cleaning the place and wiped up the frosty remains of my favorite blush. This explained the exhausted postures of the other cats and the smug expressions on their faces. They had all been out partying, probably chasing chipmunks for hours. I talked to the cats as I prepared their meal, teasing them about being too full of rodent meat to enjoy their dinner.
While the cats ate, I went outside to replace the screen. I finally found it under a bush. The corner was torn near one of the pins that secured it from the inside. I replaced the screen and noticed the flowerpot we kept on a ledge outside the bathroom window was on the deck. It had not been knocked over by a frisky feline; it had been moved. I telephoned my husband to ask if he had moved the planter while spraying for ants the previous evening. He had not. The cats certainly could not move it. Nor had the cats popped out the window screen. They probably did not even dishevel the shelf. Someone had broken into my house while I was at the rink.
I found nothing missing and prepared to take a shower. Then I faced the horrible possibility that the prowler may be hiding somewhere waiting to overtake me. I grabbed a piece of wood and threw open all of the closet doors and checked every dreary corner of the basement. The trespasser was gone. Concerned for our neighbor, a single woman who lives alone and works full-time, I inspected her property for signs of forced entry. Unfortunately, her screen door had been cut, allowing a burglar to reach in and unlock it, gaining easy access to her home. Her cat looked innocently at me, but I saw no other signs of damage.
Since we were not in any immediate danger, my husband and I went out to our favorite restaurant, a local tavern where we enjoy the absolute best pizza every Friday night. He called the police after we returned. The officer inspected our yard and the neighbor’s. This incident matched a series of burglaries that has occurred in our area over the last few weeks. The police believe the thief is a high school student who looks for houses with open back windows or doors, allowing uncomplicated entry. The perpetrator then steals video games and visible cash. He does not take jewelry or large electronics and does not dig through drawers. An adult robber would have wiped out my jewelry box and ripped off several other items. This kid is just looking for money and stuff he can sell to his friends. The foolish little bastard did not even swipe our booze.
The police visited our community several times over the weekend interviewing neighbors, one man who actually saw a suspicious boy hanging around. The kid also tried to hit another house and opened the fence gate, but was apparently scared off by the dog. One neighbor told me a lady down the street had been robbed of a jar of collectible state quarters. The police hope the kid tried to exchange them for bills at the machine in the town grocery store. If he did, his picture was automatically taken, guaranteeing his identification and arrest.
Most likely, the delinquent did not even enter our house. He probably knocked over the bathroom shelf, causing a startling crash. Spooked, he fled the scene. No dirty footprints defaced our white tile, confirming his entry. I thanked God for safeguarding our home and protecting our beloved cats. I can only imagine their fear when a stranger approached their favorite viewing portal and violated its sanctity. While this scumbag did not actually steal material objects from our home, he took something far more precious. I could not sleep that night.
 |
 |
 |
The content of this site is copyright by K. J. N., 1999 - 2002