Maybe This Time...

It's been an interesting few weeks.

I tried to be upbeat and optimistic about my skating, weight, job and general distain for listening to people complain (it's part of my wonderful job. It would be easier if people actually read BEFORE they called me to complain...). I tried.

Three weeks ago, while at Chelsea Piers, a young (23) adult skater asked if I thought she'd ever get the jumps she had as a child back again. I said sure, if you work hard enough. She asked me how long I had been skating and I gave my general "too long to be at this level" response. When pressed, I told her I had taken years off from time to time, but was a pretty good skater at one point.

She didn't believe me.

I had all my singles before I totally ran out of money. I had all my singles before my body betrayed me and started to hurt like hell. All my singles, including axel, which wasn't particularly consistant, but was there. And this snip didn't believe me.

Life is a funny thing. Just when you're coasting along, enjoying the world, something goes wrong. A car needs repair. A roof starts to leak. Occasional over-time becomes daily over-time. A company folds. A slight twitch becomes an all-encompassing pain that never goes away. Weight gains are harder to lose. All of your reserve money is used to pay bills and buy groceries. You get older. Loved ones die. I told Ms. Snip that all of these things will eventually happen to her. She doubted it. "Do you really think your parents are going to continue to pay for your skating like they did when you were a kid?" She hadn't thought of that.

My last session, which was last week, was a mini disaster. Once again, the first session went fairly well. I had some solid backspins. My MIF were actually moving. Then the second session began and I think my feet forgot what to do. It was cold in the rink and Sal decided it was time to remind me he was there. Phil showed up too, but Gerri, Sylvie and Carly stayed away. I took an interesting, out of control fall on a spin. Ms. Snip asked if I was okay. I told her I ignore the pain as much as possible, thanked her and skated away.

Amy will be in tomorrow. I'm glad because this has been one of the worse skating summers I've had in a long time. I had such hope for the summer, such hope.

My job is cutting my almost non-existant salary by 1 1/2%, which isn't much until you consider that my roommate wants to move away. If she goes, so goes skating because I won't be able to afford it anymore. I don't fault her for wanting to move; I just don't like her motives. Wanting to move to another state so you can be closer to your "friends" is just juvenile, especially when you factor in not having a job, a place to live or the ability to drive.

I am going to try to enjoy these last months of skating before the boom is lowered. I can try to stay positive and hope that I find another, better paying job (I've worked here for 7 years; I've been looking for a new job for 6 1/2 years.) that will allow me to pay the entire rent and other bills and still skate. However, I must be realistic. As much as I hope and pray, there is a very good chance this will not happen.

I don't go out. I don't date. I don't go to the movies. Sometimes I go to the theatre, but for the most part, I skate. That's it. I would hate to have to quit again, but I think this time it'll be for good. I'm getting a bit too old to start from scratch every year. I've watched adults who started after I did, fly past me on tests and elements and it hurts like the dickens. More than Sal. Maybe it's just time.

I hate having to defend my previous skating ability. No one believes me anyway.

One Sided Love Affair?

Late last month, I took a week off from work to give myself my own "skate week". As with all previous skate weeks, it didn't go quite as planned. City Ice Pavilion, which, as I said before, is basically an outdoor rink with a top was hot as hell. The best part was for the three sessions I was able to skate, I was the only person on the ice. That was wonderful. Unfortunately, almost none of my jumps decided to show up and only one of my spins made a brief appearance. Still, it was nice to be the only person on the ice. Wish I had had some music to listen to...

I only made it to the rink three times thanks to yet another procedure performed in my doctor's office. This one went worse than the first one and I'd rather not have another one done, thank you very much.

My wonderful coach Amy went away for the weekend, leaving me to practice on my own the following week. The first session went well; considering I needed more sleep, would have preferred not having to stand all the way into Manhattan and then having to walk from 6th Avenue to 12th Avenue. These are Manhattan blocks people. By the time I got to the rink I was tired, really tired. But the first session went pretty well, with some decent backspins (the bane of my existance along with two jumps and outside mohawks). The second session was not as good. I seemed to get in my own way. My legs did things I didn't ask them to do, my arms went on about their merry way regardless of what I wanted. Needless to say, it was not a good session. I left 5 minutes early in hopes of getting some more sleep on the train. I did.

That brings us to this week. I am feeling melancholy. I watch other skaters on YouTube and wonder "Maybe I should video tape myself" and then I think, I'll probably quit after watching myself. I haven't lost any weight; I haven't even been trying. Where did my desire go? My determination? I only wanted four things to happen this summer and if they did, I was going to buy myself a pair of expensive shoes I've been dreaming about. I am no where close to that goal; I'm not even on the same page.

It probably doesn't help that no one reads my blog; not even my family. I feel like I am swimming upstream and no one has even noticed I'm in the water.

I still love skating, I'm just wondering if it loves me back.