September 2000
Week of September 11, 2000
Pain and Strength
The mall rink has become a paradise, now that the kids are back in school. Its inexpensive long sessions allow me to increase my practice time while saving money. Although my home rink has returned to its accommodating schedule, I plan to alternate with the mall, reducing my dependence on any one skating facility.
I came off the ice after over three hours of practice to meet a friend who was just lacing her skates. Angela and I had both been on vacation the previous week, and she complained about the difficulty of picking up where she left off.
“For some people a break improves their skating, but many of my new moves have disappeared,” she admitted ruefully. “At your level, that probably doesn’t happen.” While I generally do not lose moves over a vacation, my aerobic conditioning deteriorates quickly. Until my stamina returns, I might require several short rest periods to complete a serious workout. As a relative beginner, Angela clung to progress precariously, and appreciated every small increment of improvement. Even at “my level”, so do I!
When my friend expressed an interest in being able to complete the moves that I perform on the ice, I had to introduce some perspective. After eight years of skating, my axel is weak on a good day, and I cannot do a double. A child who has been skating for eight years probably owns a triple. Angela admitted that she did not aspire to landing a double; she only wanted a few nice singles. I started with the same goal. An axel and a double are the next logical progression.
“And I feel terribly sore,” Angela added, then observed with a combination of envy and admiration, “You look like you never have any pain.”
Amusement twisted the corners of my mouth as I struggled not to laugh. I know skaters’ pain very well. Two of my dearest companions are a bottle of ibuprofen and the pillow that cradles my landing leg every night while I sleep. Fortunately, a break from skating allows my knee to heal and I return to the rink with renewed vigor.
“After a half hour drive home, I very often can barely hoist my aching body out of the car,” I confessed.
Angela seemed relieved that she was not alone in her plight. “But you are so strong on the ice. I never would have guessed.”
“I have to be strong to get my fat ass in the air.”
Week of September 11, 2000; Part Two
Spiral Day
The last trip I made to my home rink was at the end of June. Surprisingly, I did not absent-mindedly miss the exit and continue to drive down the freeway toward the mall. I was happy to see many of my skating friends back for another season. I was even glad to see Stanley, until he played the same old irritating program music over and over again. No one significantly improved over the summer. Most of the skaters barely skated at all since the summer schedule began. They will probably spend a few weeks recovering from a progress deficit. Though I did not accomplish the three goals I set for myself, I did not lose skills, but actually gained a couple of spin combinations.
Anticipating unheated rink conditions, I exhumed a pair of fleece leggings to wear with a leotard. All summer I skated in tights and skirts while sweating comfortably. My home rink was predictably freezing. Next time, I will wear a fleece shirt with the warm leggings. The hard ice allowed me to sail through stroking exercises with unusual speed and fluidity. My first spins turned readily in the absence of friction. These sensations filled me with excitement. I did flying camels early in the session then warmed up the axel. I landed a few decent ones before beginning to fall. While my rotation was not bad, I could not stay on my feet. This may have been due to hard ice or dull blades and probably a combination of both. After several miserable falls, my backside felt like twenty pounds of frozen chopped meat. Normally I do not experience impact soreness immediately while skating. It sets in later, after my muscles stiffen. However, in that bitter cold, my thighs and buttocks ached. Ordinarily, I would persevere to complete one acceptable jump; however, I could not tolerate another cruel axel fall. One end of the rink shined with butt marks where my fleece leggings had polished the ice.
I recovered from the axel disappointment by building my confidence with spins. During crowded public sessions at the mall, I worked on reverse direction spinning. A sequence of opposite direction scratch spins has evolved from a pipe dream to a possibility. I am getting several centered rotations. Unfortunately, the spin does not occur directly over its initiating three-turn. I complete the three-turn then begin to spin. As a natural clockwise spinner, counterclockwise spinning has given me new appreciation of the beginner’s predicament.
Another fantasy that occupied my time at the mall after I was too tired to jump but could not bear to leave almost empty ice, was a change-edge backward spiral. I toyed with it experiencing little success. Although well-trained skaters can probably learn this move, I have never seen it performed. The change-edge forward spiral is well known and has been popularized during recent years by American and World Champion,
It simply was not “an axel day”. It was a spiral day.
Week of September 18, 2000
World Beater
After a weekend without skating, I returned to the mall's ice rink. Unfortunately, allergies plagued me with discomforts ranging from an unusually runny nose to tearing, burning eyes. I had forgotten to take my medication and was bombarded with an unexpected autumn reaction. Circling the rink in my warm up routine, my eyes squinted to avoid the self-imposed cold wind that caused them to water and sting. I hoped persistence and the cool air would clear my sinuses. Ordinarily, I can overcome these attacks. However, this one would not dissipate. My spins traveled, and the idea of pulling myself out of a deep sit spin made me nauseous. It occurred to me that this was not an allergy, but the initial stages of a cold or flu.
Normally I am able to complete a decent spin under the most miserable conditions. Congestion upset my equilibrium as I struggled to center a basic upright spin. My favorite, the layback, caused a dull ache in my lower back. I went to the boards to stretch my back again. I always stretch before stepping onto the ice, but my ailing body required a little extra encouragement. After a couple of acceptable laybacks, I abandoned the notion of spinning and moved on to jumps.
Since single jumps do not require sustained rotation, dizziness usually is not a factor. I practiced every jump and combination in my arsenal, excluding the notorious axel and doubles. My body would have undoubtedly crumbled under the abuse of those falls. The toe loop-loop combination has never been one of my favorites, but I landed several respectable ones, finally completing a strong toe loop-loop-loop variant. Executing a combination of three jumps without losing speed, distance or flow; confirms my understanding of the technique. A toe loop-loop incorporating a very small second jump or concluding without a running landing edge does not demonstrate mastery of the skill. According to my coach, in an ideal situation, a jump landing should be faster than its entrance; and jumps performed in combination should build speed and distance. In actual practice, this is difficult to achieve. Working primarily with basic single jumps, I have adopted this philosophy as a standard of excellence.
I skated back and forth down the length of the rink, completing a combination jump at each end. Sweating and tired, I landed a flip-loop-loop. As I turned to evaluate the tracing, the rink became hazy and the ice turned gray. I rubbed my temples fighting a sensation of vertigo. I can conquer soreness, exhaustion, and common cold symptoms. However, no one can skate if unconscious. I felt awful and realized this time I had pushed myself too far.
Leaving the almost empty rink after only two hours caused me more anguish than the impending illness. I planned to practice for at least three hours. The week before, I built up to four hours of skating and felt wonderful coming off the ice. My muscles were warm and pliable and my knees did not ache. I felt like an eighteen-year-old world-beater. After just two hours, this time I was simply beaten.
Fortunately, I did not become sick. Continuing to feel weak, I decided prudently (for a change) to rest for a couple of days.
Week of September 25, 2000
On Thin Ice
“Look at this,” a twenty-year-old skater called gliding cautiously around a place of interest on the mall rink’s ice surface.
I stopped alongside her and looked down at the ice.
“The ice is very thin here. You can see the sand,” she continued.
Through the transparent frozen coating, I could identify individual grains of sand. One deep edge would rip the fragile ice sheet open revealing a virtual litter box of granular silicates. Other than occasional
Rounding the end of the arena, I heard a crackling sound that would have unnerved me on a frozen pond. Aware of one problem zone, I examined the ice and located several other shallow areas where the ice adopted the golden hue of the sand beneath. Another skater complained that the Zamboni driver routinely shaves the ice too thin without replenishing it with fresh water. Although I have dealt with soft ice, hard ice, brittle ice, bumpy ice, slushy ice and bird poop on the ice; I had never experienced this particular circumstance before.
I did not spin well that session. Maybe the problem was psychological, linked to concerns over the unsatisfactory ice conditions. My blades seemed to splinter the brittle surface, making controlled rotation very difficult. With only a few people skating, the ice became gritty and rough as if an entire hockey team had just completed a training session. I caught an edge in previous tracings and struggled to maintain my balance. The ice lacked the resiliency to secure a flying camel. It simply shattered as my blade skittered, hoping to find anchorage.
This session increased my appreciation for skaters who, decades ago, completed difficult jumps and spins on outdoor rinks riddled with cracks and imperfections.
Week of September 25, 2000; Part Two
Welcome Back Lesson
Over the summer, I took a break from skating lessons. This week I returned to regular lessons with my coach. After three months off, one might have expected a revelation, but I saw no fireworks and can report no miracles. However, in Geoff’s absence, some of my skills came and went; others disappeared entirely. My axel peaked briefly before deteriorating to painful butt impacts. My double salchow improved slightly then fell into its old pattern of incomplete rotation and two-footed landings. I learned a couple of new spin combinations, one of which degraded during the last weeks of summer. Even elite skaters lose skills, and I expect the more difficult elements to continue to challenge me indefinitely, but I attribute some of this inconsistency to lack of coaching.
Someone at the mall rink asked if I still take lessons, obviously wondering if I still needed lessons. Depending on an individual’s goals, at some point, reducing the frequency of lessons may make sense. However, the best eligible and professional skaters continue to work with coaches and choreographers, although their sessions may be less mundane than an adult recreational skater’s weekly meeting with a rink pro. I still need lessons in order to improve and maintain my current level of proficiency. Anticipating my hour with Geoff, I mentally prepared a list of concerns and goals.
We began immediately as he stepped onto the ice, catching me in a lutz, a jump I practiced for hours this summer. He noticed the improvement and asked to see the rest of my singles.
“Those are all big enough to be doubles,” he concluded. “I’m going to remind you of that when you try the double loop again.”
I did not spend much time on the double loop this summer, favoring the axel and double salchow instead. My axel returned in all its meager glory the day before my “welcome back” lesson, allowing me to benefit from interaction with Geoff. The salchow is another story. I land short of rotation with my free leg to the side, causing my balance to stray from the rotational axis and my free foot to tap the ice. This happens almost every time, and it is beginning to drive me crazy. Geoff wants me to focus on landing on one foot, which will force me over the axis, even if I have to crank the last of the rotation.
Geoff identified my problems with the flying sit spin instantly. This spin is significantly more difficult than the flying camel, which is one of my best moves. The flying sit spin also suffers from axis deviation, like the salchow. In the air, I do not bring my free leg completely around, resulting in an off-axis landing and the unemployed foot crashing to the ice, rather than pulling into a forward sit spin. Aware of my mistakes, all I have to do is force my body into the correct position at the critical moment. If skating were that straight forward, I would own a good axel and double salchow by now.
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