Beat the Heat
June 24, 2008
Back in January, I outlined (okay, whined about) the fact that coaching skating is “one of the coldest jobs in the universe.” Well, I’m happy to report that now it’s time to gloat.
For example, during a recent heat wave here in New York City, I found myself dialing up my non-skating friends to brag.
“Guess where I’m headed,” I said in the snotty tone of an eight year old who just got a new bike. I could envision my friend on the other end, slow-roasting in her apartment.
“Where?” she asked without interest, too hot and lethargic to actually play my little guessing game.
“Oh, just the ice rink. Yep,” I continued, “just taking my scarf and mittens over to that freezing workplace of mine.”
“Lucky,” she acknowledged, again without much enthusiasm and too overheated (or polite) to point out that I’d called to whimper about this same destination only six short months ago. After an awkward silence, she slowly said, “Look, I gotta go, I think my elbow just burst into flames.”
After we hung up, I dialed another friend to boast some more. I had a lot of time to fill since I was heading into work about four hours early.
Despite a well-meaning yet ineffectual air conditioner balanced precariously in my window, my apartment had become as hot as a sauna. As the temperature increased outside and the hot air easily climbed the five flights of stairs to my apartment, it started to seem more like an oven. When the sun rose, my “cozy” little nook started to resemble a broiler. The disturbing sizzling sound turned out to be emanating from my very own flesh.
Everything around me had looked as if it was starting to melt, kind of like the clock in that Salvador Dali painting. I was clearly becoming delirious. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t move. The fact that I didn’t even want to eat was probably the most alarming aspect of my condition. I’d basically lost the will to do anything other than stare at my ceiling.
Suddenly, I remembered that it was Monday and this meant it was time to go back to work! Though the rink is 30 miles away from where I live, I could see it with complete clarity right before my eyes, glowing like a frosty, blue oasis with angels singing in the rafters. Nirvana. I imagined staggering into the arena, aiming directly toward the ice surface then lying face-down, gradually returning to my former self.
I know that the sport of skating has been good for me in many ways but never before has it so obviously ensured my survival. Likewise, I enjoy my job, but I’d never headed toward it with quite this much enthusiasm. Granted, getting ready was no easy feat, since my fingers had swollen to the size of sausages and I had trouble fitting my hands through my shirtsleeves. Speaking of feet, I knew there was no chance mine were going to squeeze into my skates. No matter, I had every intention of going out onto the ice barefoot, anyway.
Once in the car, with the vents blowing AC on my face, I started to revive a bit. This is when I launched into that series of braggy phone calls. Afterwards, I felt somewhat guilty about flaunting my enviable work situation and I wondered, momentarily, if I really deserved such luxury. Of course I deserve this, I quickly decided. This is exactly what I earned when I contracted frostbite, hypothermia and shattered teeth (from chattering) during those long winter months.
Still, it didn’t really seem fair that I got to seek sanctuary while others suffered. On the street, people wiped their brows in misery. Other rink-less souls tried to take cover from the sun under awnings while their dogs panted and tried to fan themselves with their own ears.
What if? I thought. What if I rounded everyone up and took them to the rink? Sure, I’d like to buy the world a Coke, but I’d prefer to take them ice skating. By the busload. “Hop in!” I’d beckon from the driver’s seat. “Real refreshment awaits!” Then I’d deliver them to the hot-day version of heaven on earth. And for them, if only for a few hours, everything would be okay. Well, better than okay: Cool.
All right, I don’t own a bus and I don’t have a license to operate large vehicles. And I can’t fit more than 3.5 people in my car. Though I do have a brain, albeit modestly-sized, and I really attempted to use it the next 30 or so minutes.
What if? I continued my earlier theme. What if everyone in the universe turned off their lights and air conditioners for one day then strutted on over to their local ice rinks to beat the heat? How much energy could be conserved in this manner? It would be kind of like the cold version of carpooling. We could call it “coldpooling.” I’m surprised Al Gore failed to mention this concept in his otherwise brilliant documentary about the sorry state of our planet called, “An Inconvenient Truth.” I’ll have to discuss this with him next time I see him.
I’d like to point out that the general public is wrong to only associate skating with winter. In fact, it should be the exact opposite. People should be waiting in lines at ice rinks instead of smoldering away on the hot tar of amusement parks. And swimming pools? Last I checked outdoor pools adapt to the air around them rather than the reverse. Don’t even get me started on how beaches are hotplates and how lounging on them is basically grilling yourself like a piece of meat. Sunscreen works to a degree, but mix it with ocean water and what you have a salty marinade. All you can do is be sure to cook both sides evenly – I’ve learned this lesson the hard way.
I don’t want to sound like some kind of Summer Scrooge. I just want to be part of the solution. And I know first hand how uncomfortable it is to sweat: it’s an embarrassing and rather annoying part of being human and it tends to make people irritable. Why do you think crime rates soar in the summer? As temperatures rise, tempers flare, but can’t we all just get along? Can’t we all just lace up, lock hands, and skate a few laps together?
What could diffuse gang tension better than a skating party? Or: Mad at your neighbor? Miffed at your best friend for dating your ex? Upset that your partner embezzled those funds? Instead of saying, “I’ll see you in court,” why don’t you all just come on down to the rink? Let’s just cool down, literally and figuratively.
I really like that character on the TV show, Entourage, named Ari Gold. He is an angry entertainment agent who often loses his temper. After he unleashes his vitriol, he will often embrace his victim, saying, “Let’s hug it out.” You know what I say instead? “Let’s skate it out.”
As I drove toward work, I started to fantasize about becoming some kind of grand-scale mediator, or a skating missionary, determined to bring our nation and the people of all nations together through the Gospel of Rinks. It became gradually clear to me that many of the world’s most bitter conflicts are currently taking place in hot climates. What if, I thought, What if?
Michelle Kwan, our Ambassador, tell them, tell them all that the blade is mightier than the sword! Okay, scratch that. The blade is kind of like a sword and could be used in a similar fashion so…maybe skates themselves should be taken out of this particular mission. Maybe all these sweaty, warring factions should just come to the rink and slide around in their shoes. Perhaps we could organize a big, civilized game of…curling?
I pulled into my parking space at the rink quite pleased with all the excellent brainstorming I’d accomplished in the name of World Peace. I was really proud of how I’d turned all that gloating into something beautiful, something larger than me, something to be shared. I vowed to hammer out the specifics of my master plan, and pass it on to others…perhaps through the written word… perhaps delivered on the wings of a flourishing little bird they call the internet.
Fortunately, in my walk across the steamy parking lot, I temporarily came to my senses. When I opened the front door to the rink, I did not fall to my knees and cry out, “Hallelujah!” at the top of my lungs. I didn’t even lie down on the ice as I had planned or skate barefoot. I simply bundled up and taught my lessons.
Toward the end of the day, I was shivering and my toes were numb with cold. Pulling my scarf a little tighter, I gazed longingly at the sun streaming through the building’s front doors. I couldn’t wait to get back outside.
Congratulations Graduates
June 16, 2008
Dear 2008 Graduates (and, retroactively, graduates from years gone by),
We have been skating together for a long time, now. Okay, really, you were skating and I was yelling, but nice-yelling just so that you could hear me over the music. The point is that we’ve laughed, we’ve learned things, and even shed a few tears. And now, I am truly upset.
How dare you graduate! The nerve of you to now go off into the world to have adventures so far away. This will be difficult for me to forgive. The worst part is that I have had to suffer this same affront many times and you have already witnessed, first hand, what this has done to me.
The fact is I have enjoyed our time together, however fleeting. It has been cool to watch you become more of yourself. Like skull cartilage gradually becomes bone, all of your traits that were a bit hazy and inconsistent when you were younger have solidified, somehow. I’d like to think that all your hours in the rink have contributed to this steady transformation. Just look at how well you skate! And how nicely you present yourself both on and off the ice! Those stories you tell: so truly eloquent!
In the last year or so, you have reported on your college visits. Amid skating technique, we have bemoaned the application process and debated school characteristics such as near vs. far, small vs. large, urban vs. country. You have shared your uncertainties and in response I have bestowed wisdumb as if my own experience is infinite when in fact it is only a slice.
Of course I am proud of all your skating and academic accomplishments but what I’m really leading up to here is that I have a rather large and scandalous confession to make:
I have been secretly hoping that you wouldn’t graduate, and as a result you wouldn’t get into college.
While I know that this would be devastating for you and your family, just think how great it would be for me! We could continue to share ice time…into eternity. We could keep everything exactly the same and, together, pretend that time isn’t marching forward, that no one – not me, not you, not your parents or mine – are growing older. I kind of thought you understood this unspoken agreement, but apparently not.
And now, here you are going off to lands only partly known where the pizza and bagels may or may not be inferior, where the living space will definitely be miniscule, the adventures limitless, and the opportunities (educational and otherwise) will be laid out for you like a buffet.
I know that you will pack your skates. I know that you will lace them up anywhere from four times to a few hundred times. But I also know that your priorities will reconfigure and that everything you are doing now (including our lessons) will in three month’s time start to seem distant, and gradually become more a part of your history than your reality.
Okay, wait a second – I have to admit something else, and I suppose this cancels out that previous confession. It isn’t really that I hoped you wouldn’t graduate, what I’ve actually been experiencing is envy. For when I hear you tell about your prom, and your graduation ceremony, and the last summer job you’ve wrangled before you leave home, I am reminded of my own excitement at your age: all the possibility and the sparkling unknowns. I remember the specific giddiness I felt while shopping for a new duvet, my very own mug, and who could forget that all-important shower caddy. It was all going to be so incredible. And, in fact, it was.
In the end, what I mainly want to say is, Bravo. Have fun. And try to appreciate every single millisecond. This latter edict, like three patterns of the Starlight Waltz or a double run through of the Senior Moves test, or 50,000 axels in a row, is of course far easier said than done. But I trust that all of your experiences thus far, the ups and downs (literally and figuratively) have rendered you a very real and thoughtful person, and that you will be able to process the upcoming experiences with a dose of perspective.
I also trust that if you have your own skating students along the way (and after all, shouldn’t you try to earn back some of that money your parents spent?), that you will please teach them to bend their knees, not push with their toes, and look up instead of constantly searching for that dollar bill they apparently dropped on the ice. Last of all, I trust that you will keep in touch. For you realize that if you go off into that future of yours and never come back to visit, I will be shattered. No pressure, though.
Seriously? This goes straight from me to you: Woo Hoo!
Are you worried that you might be drinking too much coffee? Determine whether or not you are addict by clicking on Cusp of Greatness in the column over to the right.
The Practice Guarantee
June 10, 2008
Practice makes perfect. But nobody’s perfect. So why practice?
I read this inscription on a plaque in an engraving store at the local mall when I was a teenager. I laughed out loud both because it was delightfully ludicrous and because it was a strangely defeatist notion to have on a “plaque,” of all things…perhaps it made sense for a mug or even a bumper sticker, but on something usually given as an award then proudly displayed on a shelf? Funny.
At the time, my entire life was dedicated to practice. I was training approximately five hours per day five days per week including on and off-ice work. When I wasn’t at the rink, I was studying, re-reading chapters in my Chemistry textbook two and sometimes even three times then spending the weekend poring over Transcendentalist essays too dense for me to understand at first glance.
I wasn’t especially gifted as a skater: I was tall and not terribly aggressive. And I was definitely not a gifted Chemistry student, but by the time I was about 14 or 15 I’d figured out, with the help of my parents, my coaches, and mostly my older brother, that “moving forward”, “doing well,” and “achieving success” was dependent on how hard I worked.
I think that because this mentality has now become so ingrained in me I sometimes forget that I had to learn both the value of practice and how to go about it. I think some people (my brother, for instance) are born with “drive” and others, like me, grow into it. I come across these two kinds of skaters all the time at the rink, and probably more in the latter category than the former.
Of course, no one is perfect, and contrary to the above inscription, practice does not make perfect… but it does make you better. Every skater is starting in a certain place: she may be loaded with physical talent or she may not. But the goal is to move forward from that starting point and this requires a certain amount of repetition.
I have not done a scientific analysis of exactly how much repetition this should be. And of course it is going to vary in every situation based on age, specific skating goals, the rink schedule, and the outside commitments of both skater and family, but I can very generally and confidently say this: those who practice consistently at least to some extent in between lessons tend to improve more rapidly.
It is essential for skaters to think through the technical concepts their coaches have provided for them, to solidify these concepts both in their minds and in their muscles. Furthermore, it is ideal for skaters to learn how to problem solve, or at the very least, to identify what problems they’re having with a certain element.
From a coach’s perspective, it is frustrating to repeat the exact same concepts week after week. Granted, certain concepts are truly physically (or sometimes mentally) difficult to apply, but many figure skating concepts are really very simple.
Say, for example, I want a skater to get her left arm up while doing forward crossovers counter-clockwise, instead of letting her left arm droop down behind her. This is not physically or mentally demanding. It is a matter of: 1) lifting that arm up; 2) remembering to lift it up throughout the lesson; 3) practicing lifting it up outside of the lesson so that it becomes a part of “muscle memory” and no longer something that has to be consciously thought about; and 4) coming back to the lesson either the next week or very soon and demonstrating that the arm is now consistently in place. Once this unsightly case of Droopy Arm is corrected, I can go on to the next 6 (or 60 or 600) concepts.
Skating is like math. It is cumulative. When we master one set of skills we can go on to the next. Of course there’s also the whole cardiovascular aspect of things, the necessity to “over load” the muscles in order to build strength, and the necessity to generally develop the body as an athlete. (Even in the case of Droopy Arm, some shoulder and arm muscles may need to be strengthened.)
If the skater comes to her next lesson and the next, and the arm is still drooped down, then we need keep going over this. I’ll keep demonstrating where I want the arm to be, placing her arm where I want it, and going through the same explanations I went through the first time, in the process whipping up some more analogies, perhaps having to do with beach balls, or pancakes, or manicures. The point is that I’ll be forced to use our precious lesson time to repeat something relatively easy that the skater, with dedicated repetition, could correct on her own. This means that I am basically monitoring her practice time. What our lesson has become is a form of…babysitting.
I am not always at the same sessions or rinks as my students. And even when I am, I can’t directly monitor whether they are actually practicing or not. Sometimes I ask how their practicing is going and the answers run the gamut from sheepish excuses, to a specific run-down of the practice week. However, without asking, I can usually tell if someone has practiced since our last lesson. Perhaps what we were working on last time is now better. Perhaps the student comes to the lesson with a burning question starting with the words, “I was working on (blank) and I still don’t understand…”. Or the student comes to the lesson excitedly reporting how she finally mastered (blank)!
On the flip side, maybe the student doesn’t remember the steps to the new dance we learned last week. Or doesn’t remember having learned it at all. Hmm.
So how to impart the practice of practice?
First, I suppose it’s a matter of educating skaters and parents of its importance. Without practice, skaters cannot fulfill their potential. In his excellent article in the May/June issue of Professional Skater Magazine, Bob Mock addresses the issue of what he calls “the drive-through skater.” These skaters expect to pass through the sport with minimal effort. These skaters have not yet figured out the correlation between dedication and success. For many of these skaters and their parents, frustration is mounting. But most parents have not skated and may not have participated in a sport anything like skating, so it’s incumbent on the coach to provide the “this is how it works best” information.
Second, skaters, coaches and parents should develop a general game plan. In other words, how often can the skater consistently get to the rink? How many other lessons does the skater have and therefore how much time is left over? This will be arrived at on an individual basis, based on age, level, and other commitments of both skater and family.
The most helpful thing a parent can do in order to encourage a skating career, is to get her child on the ice, thereby creating the opportunity for the skater to practice. Parents can also help to impress upon their skaters the value of that session time, and the necessity to not take it for granted. Not that there can’t be any chitchat whatsoever, but obviously lengthy palavers over at the barriers are a huge waste of time and money. I think it is great for skating to be a social outlet (it certainly was for me), but socializing should take place on the bench before or after sessions or at sleepovers, etc.
Third, coach and skater can develop a more specific game plan in order to organize the practice time. This may be broken down in to a certain number of repetitions of an element (ie. 15 double axel attempts) or a certain number of minutes per discipline (i.e. 20 minutes of moves in the field patterns or stroking exercises).
Finally, this practice regimen needs to be implemented. Because the skater can not be monitored at all times by the coach, and should not be monitored at all times by the parents, the skater, no matter the age (at least from the age of 7 or 8 on) should be able to take responsibility for this herself. A notebook, a calendar, or some kind of tracking grid that the skater creates can assist with this. I’ve noticed that kids like to check off lists almost as much as I do.
Of course there are the rather large issues of enforcement, and rigidity, and motivation. These could form the substance of about 8 other blogs, but suffice it to say for now that they are a matter of a coach’s personal style. Ideally, a skater will experience the benefits of practice and the proof that this works will be in the so-called pudding. Directly pointing out how practice ended up contributing to a particular success helps to demonstrate and validate the connection.
Note that it’s important to practice correctly, i.e. with thought and applying the technique the skater has been given. It doesn’t help to repeat things incorrectly, in fact it only re-enforces the wrong movements, so it’s important for the skaters to wear that ever-sensible accessory called The Thinking Cap. Along these same lines, (and this only refers to a small subgroup of skaters) it’s possible to practice too much, i.e. to the point of stress injury, or obsession, or flat-out discouragement. Every once in a while, practice limits need to be drawn.
I’ve noticed over the years that some skaters have enough talent or aptitude to pull themselves together at the last minute, training for a few weeks or even days before a test or competition and somehow ending up with surprisingly good results. But just imagine what could happen if she’d been training diligently all along?
Let’s face it, there are very few guarantees in life. Coaches cannot guarantee that skaters will pass a test or win a competition. But we can guarantee one thing: if you practice and do so correctly, you will get better.
***
I am very interested in other coaches’ and skaters’ thoughts on the subject of practice, so please share them by clicking on Comment below.
Also, I hear it’s going to be very buggy this summer. Read some suggestions on this topic by clicking on Cusp of Greatness in the right hand column.
Test Session 101
June 3, 2008
Lately, in my capacity as a skating coach, it seems like I’m always on my way to a test session, coming back from a test session, or printing out applications for the next one. To be exact, I’ve coached at six test sessions in the last two months, an unusually high number for me, and it seems like I have 52 more sessions on the calendar (okay, 4.) This means that I’m often on my cell phone in my car (of course utilizing my hands-free ear contraption…except for that one time) trying to explain skating tests to my non-skating friends.
I usually say something fairly abstract like, “They are judged performances designed to determine if the skater is ready to move up to the next level.” Even as I’m saying it, I know this description falls short; it doesn’t even begin to do justice to the unique adventure that is The Test Session. So I’ve decided to work on this.
As I have mentioned here before, I am a fan of the USFS(A) testing system and how all these smaller, more manageable goals lead to larger ones. Going through all these tests as a kid may very well be the reason that I am now a proponent of the “Bit by Bit” method of approaching most projects in life, in other words, taking one thing at a time, compartmentalizing, etc. Test sessions may also be why I believe that everyone should occasionally…scare themselves {insert menacing thunder clap sound effect.}
Anyway, here are some other possible ways of describing test sessions to skating outsiders. Feel free to use any of these in your own travels:
- Test sessions are like the invisible ladders of skating. In order to climb from one rung to the next, you need written approval from two out of three supervisors. If you do not receive this majority when you first apply, you have to wait 27 days before applying again, so hold steady and pack a sandwich.
- Or: It’s kind of like tap dancing at the foot of Mt. Rushmore. The judges are made of stone (or ice) and everything you do with your feet seems to echo throughout the universe.
- Or: It’s like testifying in a Skating Court of Law. You’re the defendant, the judges are the jury, the rink is the courtroom, and instead of the Bible, you swear in on the USFS(A) Rulebook before taking “the stand.”
- Or: It’s kind of like going to the dentist. The lights are bright and you can’t really speak up for yourself (read: make excuses.) Sometimes you leave smiling and sometimes…not.
- Or: It’s kind of like getting silently interrogated by a well-coifed government agency. The primary methods of torture are extreme cold and a pack of butterflies specially trained to invade your stomach.
- Or: It’s sort of like taking the S.A.T.’s. It seems like your entire future hinges on your performance in the next few hours (or moments.) But, of course, that’s not really the case; you can always meet up with your tutor (or coach) again in order to gear up and “Retry.” Besides, though it’s hard to believe this at first, in several years time you won’t even remember your score.
- Really, test sessions are classic demonstrations of Murphy’s Law. The more prepared the club Test Chairman, the judges, the coaches, and the skaters are, the more things that seem to go wrong. Still, you’re advised to arrive ready for anything, and don’t forget to throw an extra pair of laces in your bag.
Granted, when my students are about to step onto the ice, I don’t mention any of this, no, no, no. Instead we talk about how taking this test is not a big deal, how it’s just like any other day of practice, how it’s all about having fun. And, of course, all of this is true as well.
“Good luck!”
***
Any other ideas? Please share by clicking on “comment” below.
FYI, this weekend, I went on a wild and crazy road trip of not-so-cinematic proportions down to Delaware, USA. Read all about it by clicking on Cusp of Greatness in the column over to the right.
