Last July, I read Elizabeth Gilbert’s Big Magic. Within the first few pages, she describes a creative life and references her friend, Susan, who went back to ice skating at age 40. Like me, Susan was a competitive figure skater when she was a teenager. My heart tightened. I promised myself at the start of 2018 that I would get back on the ice.I quit skating when I was 12 or 13, when cheerleading became more appealing than thrice weekly 5 a.m. ice times. Over the next 30 years, I’d been skating twice – once at an outdoor rink in Yosemite circa 2003 with an ex-boyfriend. It was so packed we gave up within 20 minutes. And the second, the day after Christmas in 2017, when my children put on ice skates for the first time.
During that second foray on the ice, I felt this tremendous lightness rise within me when I broke away from my boys and began skating, really skating, around the rink. Even in clunky rental skates, I felt an indescribable high. I yearned to get back on the ice – not just for fun, but maybe for my writing?
So, nearly one full year after I made that unfulfilled resolution, I decided to let my passion move me back. Sure, I’m 44 years old with three children ages 7 and under. But, on December 18, I drove an hour to the nearest “pro shop” and bought brand-new skates. I told myself it was a Christmas gift from my late father.
Getting My Groove Back
The first time I hit the rink and set out on the ice, I realized it wasn’t like riding a bike. Everything didn’t instantly come back to me. I was unsteady on my blades, I forgot the lingo, and yes, I fell on my ass. I also felt guilty and self-indulgent at every turn. What mother spends money on herself that should go toward her kids’ college funds?! But here’s the thing: I’m convinced that getting back to the ice is making me a better writer, a better mother and a better wife.
So, I set my guilt aside and hired a coach, Vicky, who incidentally once taught alongside my original coach, Sandy. Vicky guided me with patience and understanding. She helped me remember figures, mohawks, bunny hops and three-turns. Before the end of our first session together, I was doing all of those basic moves again and beginning to spin.
I was dismayed, of course, when my limbs weren’t as bendy as they used to be – and when I realized I couldn’t do almost any of the jumps that once made me feel like a Disney princess. But things on the ice have changed. Now there are boots that mold to your feet, soakers that sop up the ice from your blades and, wait for it, harnesses that allow you to twirl in the air without breaking a leg. Those didn’t exist in my day.
Channeling Happiness
The real reason I found my way back to the ice wasn’t to pursue a more creative life. It was to reconnect with the memories I have of my dad, to channel his tireless pursuit of happiness. When I was in elementary school, I told my parents I wanted to be a figure skater. Between ice skates, private lessons and 5 a.m. ice times, the cost of my preferred hobby nearly broke them. Yet, they both indulged my passion without question and my dad played the role of chauffeur.
I remember the early morning wake up calls, the tights and fancy skating dresses and the drives to the rink before sunrise. I skated while my dad watched – or sometimes went for a jog. Getting back on the ice felt, in a way, like coming home. As I glided across the rink, I felt almost like he was watching me. And yes, I realize that sounds corny!
Still, there’s no doubt revisiting the ice has helped me move through my grief, to honor my dad’s philosophy and heal myself simultaneously. Of course, within this newfound freedom, lies a layer of caution. After all, I can’t afford to break a bone or take athletic risks the way I could as a kid. But I can grasp on to that childlike experience of pure joy and enjoy the ride. And maybe even, one day, hop into a harness.
Trying to squeeze more passion out of your writing life? I’d love to hear what you have in mind. If writing tops the list, I invite you to join my next basic class on February 11. While most of you have already taken my class, you may not realize alums can re-take the course for half price (you’ll only get one full critique instead of two). Refer a friend who mentions your name when they register? You’ll both get a free 30 minute coaching session by phone.
No matter what moves you (creatively or otherwise), I hope you will take the time – or the money – and show yourself some love this Valentine’s Day.
Happy Writing,
A