It's always difficult to skate a session when you're the oldest, fatest, slowest and worse skater on that session. Add to that a major lack of confidence and a few rude comments and your session is toast.
Yesterday, my session was toast.
I suppose being tired didn't help the situation, but that's no excuse. Being on the verge of tears as everyone literally flew past me is no excuse either.
I could either attack or give up.
I choose to attack.
I had stopped listening to my self-hypnosis cds, so it's back to square one with my confidence level. The weather has improved so I'll be back in the gym too. I'm also, reluctantly, returning to the Long Island rink of earlier posts for the kamikaze sessions in the morning. I've also learned that two other rinks (World Ice Arena and City Ice Pavilion) have or will have sessions I can actually make. Whoo Hoo!
I hate giving up my Sunday mornings for nothing. Between the five minutes I skated on the first session and the fifteen I skated on the second, it was not what I would consider a successful day of skating.
I would like to quit monitoring but I'm not the type of person to quit something in the middle. Plus, there are 9 more sessions before this hell I'm living is over.
I spend most of the first session signing people in and doing paperwork for both session. Several skaters skate both of them and that's the reason why it takes so long. Because of this, I usually don't get on the ice until the session is 1/2 over with only twenty minutes remaining. The second session is for higher level skaters. I had to get permission to skate the second session, which was reluctantly given to me. I don't belong. I am too slow and no where advanced enough at this time. I was once.
I am reminding myself of "The Princess". She was an older lady who would go to Rockefeller Center Ice Rink in full regalia. She'd dress in a (usually) pink skating dress, with feathers, and a tiara. The Princess would bow and blow kisses. I don't remember ever seeing her actually skate, but she was a staple of the rink.
I feel like her. Not quite fitting in, possibly talented, possibly nuts. But still holding on to some vestige of possible skill level.
Not that long ago, things were really going along like gangbusters. Sunday was just a hiccup; nothing to worry about. No concerns, no worries.
There are 90 days before my June competition. I have work to do.
No, I must attack!
