Ice Skating as an Adult

I love to be a beginner at things. Gives me that brushing-your-teeth-with-the-opposite-hand feeling of concentrating on something new. 

Stepping into the Oakland Ice Center off the street it’s a little cool, but go through the inner glass doors and it gets crisp. This is one of the highlights of the rink. I run hot so I’m always like… trying to find long sleeve weightless clothes so I look fully dressed in winter… walking my dog in the evening so the 68 degree noon sun doesn’t fry me… getting my undershirt wet in the sink so I can hang in there at work… I only do fitness that is cold (rink, bay swimming) cool (hiking in shade, pool swimming) or breezy (biking).

The rink has such a festive feeling. Kids are so excited to be there, swinging their enskated feet while their parent gets another tiny child dressed for the ice. Screaming for their mother whom they can see as if in an aquarium, serenely gliding across the ice. Dad explaining that yes, mom is right there, see? 

I stretch but I don’t really trust the rubber floor (I think it's meant to be sticky and black...) so I don’t do my whole splits progression. Sitting on a vinyl wrapped bench and stretching while the zamboni whirs past, all bliss. 

Then onto the ice.

 

 A small woman sends us to the wall to await instructions. The instructions sound like nothing. Nothing could be less like instructions than what she says. If you skate, imagine the reverb off the stadium ceiling as she says,

 "***, *eh***** ** ***. In two groups." 

If you don't skate, imagine an intermittent booming sound of people hitting a plastic panel with their entire bodies in an all metal stadium. You crane to hear the instructor, who is skating backwards away from you whispering a nonsense word- twizzle, swizzle, slalom. You try to match the word with the part of what the instructor is doing (zipping around) that she wants you to do, and then translate that into what your own body might do, while also crossing the ice in a reasonable length of time to stay with the group. She skates up to me personally and tells me I don't have to "do the arms" I could not tell what she was doing to copy it but later found out it is ballet fifth position. All these times in ballet I was thinking about, what? How long port de bras was taking? Whether we had to do the little routine a second time through? How many minutes were left in class? When I could have been thanking God for the studio floor my feet were planted on. 

We go through our paces forward and backward, on both feet or alternating feet, in one group or two groups. Blessedly we break into groups. My feet hurt like torture and I hunch over them different ways trying alternately to get them to release or to relieve the pressure on them. I join the large group, thinking the small group will be the best skaters. Listening to the things they are working on "not jumps! Just edges!" The skaters insist- I realize I may have hobbled over to the advanced class. It turns out this is where you go forever as an adult skater, whereas I want the group you progress through. I glide to the intermediate group, holding my breath and putting as much of my weight as possible on my hands on the barricade to lessen the pressure on my feet. 

Dripping in sweat and run ragged, I am gasping for breath. Well not gasping. Emotionally gasping. My front facing camera reports that I look like I am not having a medical emergency, and that after ten minutes of stretching I have not unclenched my toes.