Before I was a skier…

Before there was skiing in my life I had another love.  Those of you who have only known me in recent years or in my adult life might find it hard to believe that there was something other than skiing in my life, but it is true.   I, Sarah, was a figure skater.

For many years I spent all my free time at the ice rink wearing those tights with short skirts and little mini stretchy gloves while practicing figures, jumps, spins and routines.   Annually I was doomed to wearing sequins hand stitched on Lycra or spandex and too much make-up in front of hundreds at the annual ice show.  There are pictures and most likely video.  It is why I will never run for office and I am terrified of You-tube.

I was not a great skater.  I was not built for the sport, am not terribly graceful, have very little body awareness and never did have that competitive streak to overcome those things.

I endured competitions, testing and ice shows because it was what figure skaters did, but I dreaded those times when I was judged.  It was for me that I skated, not for medals, badges or ribbons.  The proof of this fact is that I don’t have any of the patches or certificates that I was awarded for my achievements.  They did not adequately summarize what skating meant to me.

When I moved away to begin my college education in Minneapolis I brought my skates with me, but let boys and new adventures be my focus.  My ice time gradually faded away and the rust started forming on my sport.

When one does something as often as I skated it becomes ingrained into your fiber.  The routines of lacing up skates, stepping on the ice and warming up are like a meditation of sorts.  I have consistently been skating in my dreams since I was about 9 years old.  My dreams are so vivid that I can feel the cold on my nose… smell the moist humid chemical and sweat filled air that hangs in a foggy haze over the ice in the early mornings.  I can feel my muscles working as I dig edge to ice and push off.

So… in starts and stalls I am retaking the ice.  It’s been slow getting back my zen meditation of blades back.  My feet have spread out so that being in my custom skates is a torture test with cramps, shooting nerve pains, blisters and numbness.  I find myself re-lacing too frequently; however I trust that as always, the boots will give way… the feet will shift… the pain will fade.

My body has changed over the years and the muscle memory that once made skating like breathing has long since faded away.  I am nervous and jerky.  I have to think about every stroke.  The thought of leaving the ice in form of a jump… a joke.  My spins leave me dizzy and disoriented.

I have been frustrated and have taken months between visits to the rink.

But every time I take ice a little more comes back to me.  Today I did backward crossovers and some footwork from 1991.  I wore my skates for a whole hour before the screaming pain in my cramped arch showed up.

What drives me on and gives me hope is that today I had moments where I found my zen skating head-space.  It is enough to put me on the ice again tomorrow… and hopefully a few times next week…

and someone told me once that cross training sports is really good for agility and responsiveness and could make me a better skier!!

So says me.