November 1999
Week of November 1, 1999
The Cusp of Greatness
After skating, I sat down in the lobby to remove my skates. Across the room a skater stretched her legs. Bernadette* and her partner constitute the rink’s elite contingent. Other impressive skaters train there, but none of them have been able to graduate from Regional or Sectional competitions. Although I admire Bernadette’s skating, I have been too shy to introduce myself to her. I did have a brief conversation with her partner about skating boots one morning. It might sound like I am star-struck by these people. However, that is not possible because they are still unknown. They have competed at the national level but never won a medal; therefore, their names are unfamiliar to the average skating fan. I know who they are because they train at the same facility with me. Renowned or not, I am impressed by people who manage to achieve this level of excellence as figure skaters.
The young woman looked up at me. “I’m tired,” she sighed as her head drooped to touch her knee.
Bernadette did look exhausted. Although she must enjoy skating, she looked as bedraggled as a corporate drone. In addition to training, she may work a part-time job to fund her skating. I assumed they must have sponsors or family contributions to cover their training expenses, but I know very little about how people who are still unknown manage to afford intense training. As much as I enjoy skating and following skating events, I know very little about the actual lifestyle of competitive figure skaters.
She explained that she and her partner skate twenty hours per week and work out with a trainer twice a week. If they did not have the trainer, she admitted it would be difficult to motivate herself to go to the gym. During the off season, they also study ballet; because they cannot find time for it while preparing for competitions. I forgot the soreness in my legs and wondered how I could add another eleven hours of ice time to my own weekly schedule. Certainly, my jumps would improve if I could skate twice as much. Bernadette and her partner virtually live at the rink. Their car is in the parking lot when I arrive and they are on the ice when I leave.
I asked her when she would be competing and told her how much I enjoy watching her skate with her partner. She seemed happy to be appreciated for her hard work and began talking cheerfully. She appeared to welcome my conversation. The rink is lonely during the daytime when most young skaters are in school and adults are working. She gladly told me about her various moves away from home to pursue her skating ambitions. Only recently did she and her partner begin skating at my home rink. I told her I hope to see her on television during the Nationals this year.
She beamed with anticipation. “That would be cool,” Bernadette agreed. “Even if we aren’t on the network, our program will probably be shown on cable.”
There have been other elite skaters at the rink; however, they have moved on. These people were more widely recognized. While I would have liked to develop a friendly relationship with them, I was too shy and they seemed too preoccupied. I did enjoy seeing them on television performing routines whose evolution I had the opportunity to observe. Watching Bernadette and her partner this year will be particularly exciting because I “know” them now. I will be able to congratulate them upon their return.
Maybe Bernadette fascinates me because her life could go either way. After this year’s Nationals, her name may become commonplace in the skating community. She could qualify for World’s or Olympics. She admits both of these options would be “cool”. I agree wholeheartedly. She has an opportunity to achieve something most people can only imagine for themselves and later for their children. Her future as a skater remains undetermined. She may tour as a professional after competitive success. Certainly, she could pursue a career in coaching or choreography, remaining involved in the skating world. In contrast, my options as a skater are severely limited to nonexistent. I am more likely to win the lottery or be stricken by lightening than to compete internationally. Bernadette commented on the politics of skating and does not allow dreams of glory to consume her. Yet, a finite possibility exists that she will march in an Olympic opening ceremony.
I would have liked to ask Bernadette countless questions. I wanted to know how she felt about the possibilities she faced and what combination of events brought her to the cusp of greatness. Perhaps if we continue to develop a friendship, she will share some of these things with me.
* Not her real name.
Week of November 8, 1999
Refund
I decided to skate on Thursday even though the rink cancelled my usual morning session to rent the ice to a school hockey team. The management did courteously display a sign warning its patrons that their session would not be held on Thursday and Friday. Many rinks will not do this. They allow their customers to show up and surprise them with the bad news at the door. Usually an ice dance team and a couple of advanced skaters are the only people skating the freestyle sessions in the other rink, so I decided I could handle that. I neglected to realize that Thursday was Veterans Day, and the schools were closed. Not only did the usual group of competitive skaters occupy the ice, so did about a dozen other aggressive young athletes, a few adults I never saw before, and a couple of recreational skaters who usually skate the open session with me. To make this situation less accommodating, an accomplished pair team skated at high velocity preparing for lifts and throws. Since I suffer from "pairophobia" (the performance inhibiting fear of teamed skaters), I could not concentrate on my own practice because I was preoccupied with avoiding a collision with them.
After fifteen minutes, I decided that I preferred not to skate in this crowd. I asked for a refund at the main office. The manager cheerfully returned my money.
“Is it that bad in there?” she asked compassionately.
“It is for me. It’s probably fine for the kids, but I am getting too old to try to dodge throw axels and star lifts.”
While I am a good skater, for an adult, I am at best an intermediate skater when compared to the rest of the skating population. If the axel represents the fine line that divides beginners from intermediates, I barely crossed that line a few months ago. Intermediate skaters, regardless of age, do not belong on the ice with advanced competitors. In my opinion, mixing ability levels can be dangerous for everyone. Fortunately, I have a choice and don’t need to skate under those circumstances. Next week the sessions would be back to normal and I could resume my training under more forgiving conditions.
I have often wondered if I had no option but to skate in frightening crowds if I would maintain my interest in figure skating. Children adapt more easily than adults probably because they do not extrapolate every event to its potential disastrous conclusions. Kids get out there and skate undisturbed by the pair and dance teams flying across their paths. I noticed one woman skating in the pack attempting double jumps with the courage of a twelve-year-old girl. She was at least fifteens years older than me. Somehow she got used to it. Maybe I could too. I watched the woman for a few minutes, admiring her determination. I wondered how long it would take to learn to weave aggressively passed the other skaters. Thankfully, I do not have to explore this topic in the near future.
As I left the rink, I reflected on the progress I made on my axel and doubles with my coach. Unfortunately, I did not have the opportunity to apply the techniques Geoff taught me to improve the flight path of my axel. Although I only skated four hours this week, I knew I made the right decision to leave the rink rather than frustrate myself trying to cope with unfamiliar and unnerving conditions. I desperately missed skating on Thursday and Friday and looked forward to the next week.
Week of November 15, 1999
Half Loop
The half loop is considered a “single revolution” jump, although its name implies otherwise. I do not know how the half loop earned its name or who is credited with first performing it. The half loop consists of a typical loop take off from a right back outside edge (for counter clockwise skaters), approximately a full revolution in the air, and a left back inside edge landing. It is a “throw away” maneuver commonly performed in combinations to connect a salchow to a previous jump. The half loop can be an awkward element as skaters hurriedly switch legs to initiate a double or triple salchow. Even accomplished skaters may look like they are making a mistake rather than performing a credible half loop.
While I don’t know who created the half loop, I stumbled upon the probably reason for its discovery. I enjoy performing series of loop jumps, which build stamina and control as well as increase springing ability. In order to perform loops in combination, the skater’s body must maintain alignment along the axis rotation. Deviation from the rotation axis results in missing the next loop in the series. If the skater avoids falling, he will often find himself gliding backward on the inside edge of the other foot, unintentionally completing a half loop. Popped doubles can also yield half loops. After making both of these mistakes, I decided the half loop resulted from a blunder that looked somewhat interesting to a coach. Of course, Geoff can do an enviable half loop that would never be confused with an error.
Months ago, Geoff increased my repertoire of combinations by suggesting I join salchows to every other jump via a half loop. As a warm up exercise, I practice isolated half loops. Usually I struggle to check the landing and finish with a salchow out of habit and ease. However, this week, I lifted into the air extending my free leg into a split position before gently touching down. Surprised by the wonderful feeling of this normally boring jump, I looked down at the tracing on the ice. The take off edge and landing were separated by over two feet.
“Hello,” I said to the imprint. “Where did you come from?”
For the briefest of moments, the part of me that instinctively knows how to skate and could probably do all of the doubles if not inhibited by my over-protective mind, took control and showed me how to do a half loop like a professional. The sensation delighted me and I tried to recapture it, to no avail. I had more success the next day, but during that perfect moment I discovered the magic of a simple jump performed impeccably.
Week of November 22, 1999
Noticeable Improvement
Another adult skater who takes lessons from Geoff told him during her lesson that she wanted to be able to skate just like me. When she repeated this request to me I nearly blushed. She has only been skating since January but longed to learn to figure skate since childhood. Unfulfilled childhood ambition leads many adults into ice arenas. I routinely watch skaters practicing who are exponentially better than me, and I wish I could skate like them. However, this aspiration lacks potential because these skaters can do triples and double axels. I am sure my friend has observed these athletes also, but her immediate goal is to be able to perform the elements that I can do with ease: a wide assortment of spins and single jumps.
No matter what level of competence a skater achieves, there is always someone better. This defines the nature of competition. Even for those who are not competitive, some desirable skill always remains beyond their grasp. An elusive element lures the devoted skater to session after session. Once achieved, another goal appears. I believe this is true even for the best skaters in the world. A new talent emerges on the competitive scene pushing the rest of the field to higher levels of achievement.
I enjoy sharing the ice with adults who can skate better than me. Their presence motivates me to work on difficult elements, skate faster and strive for more beautiful positions. Skating with accomplished adults offers realistic challenge and inspiration. After observing a woman perform a beautiful spread eagle, I decided to try a
An ice-dancer told me that her coach noticed improvement in my skating. She commented on the fluidity of a step sequence that I performed leading into a layback spin. Recently two people admired the height of my jumps. I hoped that someday I might jump well enough to merit such a compliment. When I become frustrated with the axel or double salchow I wonder if I am making any progress at all. Striving for these more difficult elements has simplified other skills that once seemed impossible such as the
November 30, 1999
Perfect Every Time
I decided during the summer to take some skating tests. Since I spend so many hours on the ice, I may as well document the standard competencies I achieve. While I have little realistic hope of passing the senior level tests, each additional level will provide new goals and increase the overall quality of my skating. Although I have skated for years and am capable of more advanced maneuvers, I started with the fundamental tests. This week I will take the United States Figure Skating Association (USFSA) Pre-preliminary moves the field (MITF) and freestyle tests. The MITF test consists of forward stroking around the rink in both directions with perimeter crossovers, all of the forward and backward edges skated as semi-circles along a hockey line, and a waltz eight pattern which requires forward outside three turns. The freestyle test includes the following elements: waltz jump, salchow, toe loop, half-flip, half-lutz and a one-foot spin.
Since the test will be held later this week, I spent almost the entire session reviewing the elements, which generally constitute my daily warm-up. I could feel the two days of practice I missed last week due to the long Thanksgiving weekend. Although Geoff does an excellent job, I also adjusted to a new blade sharpening. I will certainly be glad when I no longer have to work on half jumps. While I enjoy the half lutz, I find the half-flip awkward. It longs to be like its big brother the full flip. I occasionally complete a full rotation by mistake. However, I refrain from complaining excessively because the half-flip is the foundation for the Russian split jump. I never stop dreaming! When I began to prepare for the MITF test, I was ashamed by the sad state of my edges. Although I could easily execute the forward edges, their backward counterparts were unlikely to win recognition. Finally I have strong backward inside edges, which are arguably the most difficult.
As I practiced the elements, I realized how many times I performed the skills unsatisfactorily or completely aborted the attempt. Some of the aborted jumps resulted from passing too close to another skater. However, a significant number arose due to an error in the preparation. If my edge slipped or felt too deep or the three-turn was too curved, I stopped before I jumped. This mechanism certainly saves me from potentially dangerous falls. Unfortunately, I have learned to abort jumps rather than strive for a perfect preparation every time. For the test, my jumps will have to be ideal when the judge is watching. A couple of re-skates may be permitted, but in general, the elements must be consistent and reliable. This helps me to appreciate the challenge faced by competitive skaters. They have to be perfect almost one hundred percent of the time in order to be complete their routines flawlessly when it counts. Consistency separates champions from skaters who can do the moves irregularly in practice.
After the session, I went to the pro shop to pay Geoff for sharpening my skates and fitting the tongues with spongy new foam rubber lining. He asked if I felt ready for the tests.
“I realized today that I do not do everything perfectly every time,” I replied smiling.
He laughed heartily as though I just discovered the universal law of figure skating. “It’s not just you; it’s all of us!”
Somehow, I found that comforting.
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