Today I went back to the rink.
Although it might seem like I skate every day, given the fact that I’ve mentioned it about 63782 times since starting this blog, I actually haven’t laced up my skates in over two years.
I was introduced to figure skating at the age of 4. A family effort – if you will – was mobilized back in the Soviet Union (so they tell me) to let me try this popular Russian sport.
Skates were procured. Sessions for toddlers were found. Transportation was arranged.
On that fateful day, grandpa laced up my skates…and introduced me to my life-long passion.
Skating is one of my earliest memories. I skated when we were newly immigrated and money was tight. I competed through elementary school, middle school and high school. I skated through college. I skated through good times and bad.
Now my recent move back to the Midwest has reignited my desire to lace up my skates once more.
One train and one bus got me there.
I was overwhelmed and excited coming up to the rink. I was an ocean away from where I started and 300 miles away from where I skated most of my life. Yet my surroundings were familiar. It even smelled the same.
I warmed up a bit, laced up my skates, got onto the ice with other skaters at “my” level and picked up on what I suspect I knew all along…
Figure skating is hard.
I wish I could say it’s like riding a bike. But it’s not (unless relearning means toppling over a couple of times on a flat tire).
I was a bit shaky at first and spent half the session doing backwards and forwards crossovers but by the end of the session I was feeling more confident. I tried a couple spins and even threw in a couple (easy) jumps.
Most of all, I just loved being out there again. It was different but it felt the same.
Looking forward to training session number 2.
Awesome.
