Logic on Ice

Applying for full-time study in a master’s program in the sixth decade of my life is probably no more outlandish than thinking I could possibly learn to figure skate in the third decade or re-learn it now. Because, as you might remember from the first blog in this skating series, I am about as non-athletic as anyone can be. And whereas running and biking, at least in their elementary forms, are sports that most people either can do naturally or can learn easily, figure skating – even in its beginning stages -- is a much bigger challenge. It takes balance, coordination, flexibility, knowing right from left.

So when the local rink re-opened after its summer hiatus I was happy to find that the previous nine months of doggedly working on basic skills like skating forward while not tripping over my toe picks, gliding on one foot for more than an inch at a time, and crossing one foot over the other without clanging the two blades together and landing on my you-know-what… that all that work had led me to finally regain a basic sense of comfort on the ice. And now I was ready to start working on slightly higher level skills, i.e., beginning maneuvers done on one foot -- a couple of basic turns --or even no feet -- a bunny hop, wherein the goal is to leave the ice completely for at least a second

Which means I’ve reached a stage of learning in one year that took me at least two or three years the first time around. So what, you might ask, kept me going back then when my progress was almost invisible? You didn’t ask? No matter, I’ll tell you anyway.

I’m a ham.

That’s it, pure and simple.

Whether it’s childhood ballet recitals or acting in plays or presenting one-woman shows or emceeing open mics, I’m a performer at heart. And the rink in Evanston, Illinois provided plenty of performance opportunities. We had a wonderful skating director who loved putting shows together and hosting competitions and sending skaters to competitions at other rinks. Between practicing show routines and practicing solos and practicing with the precision teams for competitions and practicing for tests and just general practicing, my daughter and I spent an amazing number of hours at the rink every week. Really, we sort of lived there, along with a lot of other obsessed skaters, young and old.

Maybe it was a combination of being a ham and having become so absorbed in the world of the rink that induced me to do some things that might not be considered very logical. I mean, really, was it logical, only about a year after we started to skate, for an overweight, uncoordinated, scared-to-death-of-falling adult to agree to play the part of a housekeeper in our annual ice skating version of The Nutcracker? To wear a short-skirted French maid outfit and chase a mouse (my daughter, decked out in white fur and ears and a tail) all over the ice while threatening her with a feather duster?

Was it logical, a couple years later, to agree to emerge from behind a backdrop wearing a sort of sarong and balancing a pot of fire – real fire, I kid you not – on my head in a faux tropical number called “Princess Papuli” during our Spring show? Or, in the same show, to agree to let my daughter, who was also taking gymnastics classes, to be featured in a solo that included cartwheels and round-offs? These days it’s routine to see competitive skaters do back flips on ice, but then it wasn’t, plus we’re not talking here about a world class athlete who can triple jump in her sleep. We’re talking about a child, my only one, with no spares in the hall closet.

Was it logical to become a charter member in one of the first adult precision teams and practice kicklines with my teammates for hours so we could enter competitions that often had no other adult teams? I still have a video tape of the competition that my in-laws attended. That was the only one time that I fell during our routine. There I am on tape, arm in arm with my teammates, gliding to a T-stop in formation, and suddenly there I’m not! My in-laws REALLY enjoyed that performance.

And speaking of falling, how about the evening I was practicing bunny hops and, oops, found myself lying on the ice, staring at the ceiling but seeing – literally – stars. After sitting in the bleachers for a while to make sure I didn’t have a concussion, was it logical to stand up and get back on the ice?

You bet it was!

Not convinced? OK, I can understand that. So since logic always depends on the assumptions that are the basis for deduction, let’s look at the assumptions I was, and am again making about skating.

Assumption #1: It's important to keep learning new things throughout your life. I first heard that idea when I was maybe 20, from an elderly (i.e., about the age I am now) guy who had recently begun to play the violin. Keep learning new things throughout your life: the idea seemed pretty sensible at the time, and obviously made an impression on me since I still remember it and him.

Assumption #2: We should do what we love regardless of whether we have talent in that area. I heard someone on the radio claim that Bill Clinton once said he had never possessed the courage to venture into areas that didn’t come easily to him, and therefore he greatly admired his daughter for studying ballet even though she really didn’t have any natural aptitude for it. I don’t know if Bill Clinton actually made such a statement, but it was an encouraging thought for this doggedly perseverant no-talent ice skater.

OK, OK, I guess I’m not really sure if figure skating is logical. I am pretty sure, though, that it borders on obsession. And I’m totally sure that I’m really happy to be doing it again, with new solos on the horizon, and new bunny hops to conquer.

And this time, it's no accident!