FACING YOUR FEARS: PART 2 - A Breath of Fresh Air

It had been a couple of weeks from the time I'd  braved the ice. My first foray was the most difficult. It had been a long time coming, a lot of pain and a few more years had floated under the bridge. I chronicled that event in my last blog, and then life started moving quickly as I found myself facing my immanent retirement.

Skating outdoors was the next step in my three-part return to achieving my "Bucket List" dream, but the weather had not been particularly conducive to doing that, and frankly I was not sure exactly where to go. I was looking on line to see about outdoor venues in my area when Skating at the Park came up. Every winter for a few months, the city constructs an outdoor venue in a city park right in the heart of downtown. The location has its upside - and some downsides - but it is convenient, and the view of the mountains is lovely, particularly in the evening with the holiday lights shining.

This would be the perfect place to start, but all my close group of adult friends who skate live in other places. I didn't want to go by myself, so I figured I'd wait and perhaps go inside one more time just to make sure I'd be okay.

Then, last weekend a friend of a good friend who had friended me on Facebook (that's a lot of friending in one sentence), sent me a message. She had mentioned before about going, but frankly I had forgotten with everything else going on. The message read something like this:

"It's a beautiful day! Let's go skating at the park.I can meet at 11am."

"I can't do 11, but I can meet you at 1," I replied. "I have a couple of things I have to do first. Text me about 12:30 and we'll go."

"Sounds good."

I finished my errands early and put everything away. Suddenly, a wave of nervous adrenaline swept over me. I started getting dressed. Nothing seemed right. Everything was either too heavy or too light. I couldn't find my gloves. Was I going to need a hat? I didn't want to wear jeans because what if I fell? I'd be soaked. There's no place to change.

And so it went - until the phone rang. Then everything fell into place and off I went.

I had only met Lori one time before, a few years back when Adult Sectionals were held here. She is a competitive adult skater and very active in that wonderful world of men and women who are totally dedicated to the excruciatingly hard work, dedication, camaraderie - and fun - of competing in this sport as an adult. When I came up to the park, I recognized her right away from her photos . We chatted, paid our admission, headed to the benches and put on our skates. We talked about fears; about what both of us were facing in taking this step back on the ice. I wasn't aware until that moment about Lori's battle with injuries and surgery, what she had faced, and her own questions about getting back after some time off. We inched our way up the ramp, dodging young children and some very excited foreign visitors who were obviously on the ice for the first time. We both slid our blades on what could barely be called ice because it was a perfect blue sky day, and the 50 degree temperature at 1 in the afternoon had turned the extremely small and overcrowded surface into a giant, rutted Slurpy.

I honestly thought I'd only last about 30 minutes. I think Lori felt the same. But, we moved (I'd hardly call it skating) around in circles, maneuvering around the masses, and talking about how difficult it is to come back to the ice as an adult after you've had life-changing events. Thirty minutes turned into more than an hour. In that time, we both laughed, gained confidence, and we gained a deeper understanding of one another and what it took for both of us to meet on that sunny day in the park, put on our skates and simply get started again. Each in our own way, that simple step was a huge victory for both of us. 

Friday, I completed my last full day at work. I have two more half-days before I officially retire after working for more than 47 years in my chosen profession. I have struggled with that for the past few months. I've panicked about being on fixed income, not knowing what was next for me or what I would do with my life after work. However, that one day back outside, talking with a friend, skating around in a slushy circle with the sun shining and the mountains peering over the tops of the buildings downtown, made me realize that somehow everything was going to be okay. I had taken another step forward and achieved another goal, and there would me many more.

That was my "Ah Ha" moment, and it was truly a breath of fresh air.  

FACING YOUR FEARS

 

 

Recently, I got back on skates again. It had been nearly four years since I was on the ice. Arthritis and bunions made it difficult to find comfortable shoes, and impossible for me to get my foot into my old skates, let alone my work shoes. Finally, the pain got so bad that I opted for surgery on my left foot to relieve the pressure. Seven screws, a pin and a plate later, I found myself on a long road to recovery, still with pain and now with toes that didn't bend. First there was the scooter, then crutches and finally a walking boot for eight weeks. After that, there was the issue of finding shoes that I could wear, getting rid of a closet full that had outlived any semblance of usefulness, and experimenting with varying pads, splints and all manner of contraptions on my feet in order to find the combination that would allow me to walk again pain free. That took nearly two years.

Me at Rockefeller Center 1952.

One of the driving forces behind succeeding was to actually get back on the ice. I love skating outdoors. I do not like skating in circles around a rink since I spent a better portion of 29 years sitting and watching those infinitely more talented than I transform those surfaces into magical places of athleticism and wonder. I simply wanted to be on a frozen pond, surrounded by nature and thankful for the absolute joy that feeling brings.

I found a pair of skates called SofTech by Jackson Ultima. They are purely recreational by design. They are functional, but the most important thing about them is that I could get my non-bending toes into the boots. After a conversation with my Jackson rep, the same one who takes care of my son's skates, we concluded that I would 1) not be doing triple axels, and 2) probably not be attempting death spirals (at least not on purpose - or with a partner). This made my choice the best one for what I did want to accomplish: Getting back on the ice just after my 70th birthday.

The skates came in. They fit like a glove. Now, all I had to do was get back to a safe place to test them out.

Nothing outside was open - or even frozen - when my skates were delivered. However, I knew I had to get back on the ice. I had to face my fears of being out of shape, feeling my age and, frankly, being afraid of falling and breaking something. All the "What If's" flooded my brain like a Zamboni laying down a new surface after a particularly rough elite practice session.

I gritted my teeth, grabbed my skates, looked up a public session time at a local municipal rink, dragged my husband along "just in case" something happened, put on my warm socks, my turtleneck, jeans and a fleece jacket, and off we went. My blood pressure was probably through the roof, but I was going to get on the ice, even if I had to hug the boards. Which is exactly what I did.

That first step back was anything but secure. My mind was saying, "Come on. You've skated all your life. You were pretty good for a recreational skater. You passed basic Moves. You passed preliminary dance tests. You did figures for years. You've GOT this." My body was like. "WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING??!!! ARE YOU NUTS??? This is NOT like riding a bicycle. Remember the last time you did that? You hit a curb and fell off, bashed your elbow and cut your knees open. This is NOT a good idea! You're out of shape after your surgery. You fell cross-country skiing in Idaho with your daughter last November and twisted your back. You just turned SEVENTY! Go home, have a glass of wine."

Mind over matter - mind over body mass - prevailed. I hugged the boards the first time

around while my husband did some video which, thankfully, did not go viral. Second time around, I felt a bit more brave. I let go, but I stayed within reach of my safety net. By the third time, I was actually doing some stroking. Not stoking like a pro, but at least I wasn't walking. Stopping safely was still eluding me so I coasted into the boards by the door, walked onto the mats, put on my guards and considered it a win. I lasted about 30 minutes total, but the point is that I did it. I felt okay. I didn't fall. I was tired but I was grateful that I didn't take the easy way out.

I bring this up now because I'm facing retirement at the end of December. While my body is saying it's the right decision, this time my mind is like, "WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING??!!! ARE YOU NUTS??? This is not like riding a bicycle..." and you know the rest. So, I'm taking on retirement the same way I took on skating. Mind over matter. Because now time matters, and I have a lot of things I want to do with my life - including skating outside in nature, unafraid and in awe. That's how life should be lived.