Misadventures of an Adult Skater

Yesterday, I walked into a skating rink feeling lucky to be able to go there. I left feeling lucky that I was able to walk out.

I haven't had a skating lesson in three years, and I've only been on the ice once during that time -- until this month. A desire to get more exercise and to have some fun at the same time prompted me to seek out a local rink. I found two (!) near work and toyed with the idea of skating again. With supportive bosses and a flexible schedule, the opportunity was there. I could do it.

After much planning, I went and skated for an hour on a weekday. I was happy to find that I could still do some of the things I had learned several years ago. My moves were sloppy, but I didn't care. I was having fun and was enjoying the feel of being on the ice again. So I went back yesterday, two weeks after the first try.

Within my first few minutes on the ice, I fell while trying to spin. I don't know what happened. I just didn't warm up enough and didn't feel like I had my legs beneath me.

It's easy to forget how hard the ice is when you haven't fallen in a long time. I stood up and felt pain in my left knee and right hand. I remembered someone telling me before that it was best to keep moving your knee after falling on it. I did a few laps around the rink, thinking about the irony of being on ice and wishing for an ice pack for my hand. I took off my gloves and compared my hands. I couldn't see any difference between them, so I figured I was probably ok. My knee felt better, and I got up the courage to try spinning again. And again. And again. I still couldn't get it right, but at least I stayed vertical.

I skated for the full hour that I had mentally committed to, but my hand was hurting the whole time. So was my pride. I had to keep telling myself that I was twice as old as most of the people on the ice with me. A few of them had fallen too, and they kept going.

When I got to the car, I pulled out the ice pack that I had in my lunch bag. I sat for a few minutes while I held the ice pack in my hand. I thought about how nobody at the rink knew me. If I had been seriously injured, they wouldn't have known who to call. I would be "Jane Doe" in a hospital somewhere. At least they'd have the first name right.

Today, my hand is feeling better but my knee still hurts. My pride is still healing too.