Madrid, Spain

Remembering Skating


I wasn’t one of those kids who was skating before she could walk. I’m not even really sure how old I was before my parents strapped my feet into a pair of skates. I am a winter baby though, so I’m sure it was sooner rather than later. What I do remember, though, is that I loved it. I have memories of my family at Bud Miller, me in a burgundy snowsuit, hot pink helmet (how times have changed), little white figure skates and my dad giving me a head start before catching up, scooping me up as he skated the two of us to the edge of the lake.  

I graduated from skating on the lake to skating around a track. From racing against my dad to racing against other kids in my age group. My sister and I started speed skating, that sport where the wind whistles past your cold ears and you practice your cross overs so often you start walking funny. Where the skaters wear all that tight, stretchy material and their noses almost touch the ice and you find yourself sweating even though you’re in a freezing cold rink and most other people are wrapped up in layers. I had a binder full of ribbons and time sheets, a medal I packed up every time we moved, but, I gave the sport up for gymnastics, a decision, looking back, I probably should have re-evaluated, but kids do what they do.


Since then, I haven’t really skated. After years of winters filled with skates and wobbling and cold noses and cheeks and learning how to stop, I’d visit the rink maybe a handful of times during the winter, feet  sore and stiff and complaining against being stuffed and laced into skates, my balance questionable, my ability to stop more so.  When I went skating on Saturday evening, it wast the first time I’d been on the ice in over five years. Which boggled my mind. And made me really nervous about putting on rental skates and stepping back on ice. The first half hour was me tripping over my feet and panicing over running into people and running into the boards. And then….and then something clicked.



Apparently skating is like riding a bicycle and even as your body remembers that your feet are going to be so, so sore later, it also remembers what it felt like to speed along the sides and all those cross overs you practiced. It remembers how to stop and not fall over and get out of the way and start getting over heated in an ice cold space. It remembers how good skating feels and is and makes you wonder why it took so long to get back out there and how you’ll make it back, soon.


Things I’m Loving:

+ Map portraits – (How gorgeous would this be on a wall?)
+ Becoming an Olympic athlete – (So cool and inspiring.)
+ Wine bottle lights – (So up my alley.)
+ These shoes – (Are perfect.)


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s