Full Circle

Many years ago, when the world and I were young, I used to skate very, very early in the morning. I began skating during the last years of figures and would get up to practice. Back then, I lived in what was called a "two-fare" zone; meaning, you had to take a bus to get to the closest subway. So, I did. I awoke at 3:30am to get ready to go to the rink. I would catch a bus at 4:15am to the subway, then travel on the E train to 34th Street and walk 3 NYC blocks to the rink for a 5:45 patch session. Afterwards, I either went to school or work or sometimes both. I did this three times a week for about four years. Then I had a fight with my then coach (she called me a talentless, hopeless case) and I started skating in Long Island. That brought with it a whole different group of travel problems which included taking the Long Island Railroad, taking a cab from the station and getting mugged. I mention this because I now skate on Saturday mornings at 7:00am. That means, thanks to NYC MTA, in order to arrive at the rink on time, I have to leave home at 5:30. There goes my Friday night social life. Oh wait, I didn't have a social life. I had been skating the 10:00 session, but it was cancelled. Last week, I tried the 9:00 session. I swear there were 40 skaters on the ice and then coaches. It was a zoo and that's an insult to the local zoos! So, this morning, still half asleep and dealing wih early morning coughing jags, there I was, back on the ice at an un-holy hour. I must love this sport to take the subway at 6:00am and have to stand up and then run 4 blocks from to subway to the rink because the crosstown bus wasn't coming. Highlight of the trip? The homeless man who did a strip for no partcular reason. Highlight of the skate? Moves in the Field are moving along nicely. Slowly, but nicely. Now, I have 4 hours to kill before class. Oh well... I initially began this posting while killing time. Now, in the light of day and after several cups of coffee AND a nap, I will continue. I was hoping there would be some place to take a quiet nap. Apparently, I had forgotten about one very important feature in all skating rinks: hockey parents. Wow, are they loud. One man keep trying to pump up his sleepy daughter and his reluctant son to "go out there and kick some butt". The daughter was maybe nine and the reluctant son (who kept saying "I wanna go home!") was maybe six. And I thought skating parents were nuts.