Six Days of BORING

So I haven't been updating my blog. So what? My life has been fairly boring this week. Work, sleep, study for the GRE, work, sleep, check to see that Lucy the kitten hasn't been destroying everything in my apartment, sleep. I think the only interesting thing would be my shot at Olympia on Monday evening.

Maybe it was all the hype after Turin, or maybe I'm just fulfilling my childhood dreams, but I signed up for figure skating lessons. Yes. Actual lessons with a coach who is obviously gay, and tiny girls who glide past me with the greatest of ease on the ice. Figure skating. The sport no one would have thought of when assigning me to athletics. When I was little I had asked for figure skating lessons, but my mother actually said no, since I was already dancing, singing, playing the piano, and attending Girl Scouts. Oh yeah, and I was playing soccer, too. Plus it would have meant at least an hour and a half commute each way to get to the nearest figure skatin grink. So I settled for pretending to be a figure skater by sliding around my room (we had wood floors) in socks.

When I moved up here, I imagined I would have a ton of free time to do things like skate, and ski, and generally be fabulous. i was wrong, of course. Turns out I don't have much more free time here than I ever did when I was a student. Maybe it's because my work days run straighter now or something. I don't know. Either way, I do know that I haven't skiied or skated since I got up here, both winter sports near by and things that I am not particularly good at.

I watched the Olympics, watching as Michelle Kwan was replaced by Emily Hughes (who has skated at the same rink I'm skating at, thank you very much) and as Sasha Cohen FELL in her only chance for gold. So it might have been the excitement from all of that, but before you know it I was on the phone and signing away my safety rights to be a part of the figure skating world. I showed up on Monday an hour early (for someone who is generally a few minutes behind this was good timing) and I got fitted for my skates. And watched as little girls no more than three or four feet high threw themselves into the air without a care in the world. I was completely confident as I stepped out onto the ice once it was my turn and promptly fell into the wall without going anywhere.

The guy checking us in for "Adult Skate School" looked at me skeptically and said, "Level?"
"Level?" I said right back at him without the look, since I was mainly concentrating on not ending up on my ass.
"What level are you?"
"What? Oh... maybe beginner?" Can't say I didn't warn him.
"Can you skate backwards?" Maybe this guy wasn't the brightest chip off the block,,but my God man I was hanging onto the edge of the wall with all my weight. I couldn't even skate FORWARD.
"Maybe." I said, trying to sound cooler than I actually was.

So he assigned me to a group where, get this, they were teaching people (many who have never been on the ice) to fall properly, so you had the least amount of bruising and broken bones going on. I was just practicing a bunny hop when one of the other skating instructors pulled me aside, shook her head, and said, "You go over there", pushing me towards a group that was, ironically, skating backwards.

The instructor looked me up and down, grinned, and said, "Welcome! We're just working on our swizzles. Please join in."
What the hell was a swizzle? I wondered, as I smiled back and said, "GReat! I'll just get behind these people over here,' pointing to everyone else in the group who was, I guess, swizzling backwards. At least, they were moving backwards without falling on their ass, so that's a plus. I'm not really sure what inspired the skating instructor to put me in the group, but she did. And so, in a brief moment I too was pretending I belonged in the group. Surrounded by people who were slightly wobbly on their skates but staying upright. Some were quite good. There was a much older woman (she must have been in her 60s) who was gliding across the ice with the greatest of ease. I was not. I was moving across the ice, but in a choppy motion that must have been extremely entertaining to watch.

I spent an hour on the ice, practicing my own "glides" ( which did not seem very glide-y to me), going in cirlces, literally, and generally trying not to fall down. I on ly endedup with three bruises.