January 31, 2011
Ice skating at Bryant Park
Heya folks,
I’ve been looking forward to this one for what feels like an eternity. In my quest for full social acceptance into Women in Childrens’ Media, this was the night when I’d finally make some serious headway.
You see, I possess a secret skill. I happen to have spent a former life as a competitive speedskater, a fact unknown to the vast majority of WiCM members, only possibly because I don’t know the vast majority of WiCM members.
A bit of background is in order. Speedskating is completely useless. It’s for weirdos in cold places with nothing else to do. It has no practical applications. There are no pickup speedskating races, nor should there be. Since I left the sport, I can count the number of times I’ve had to use my training to escape a tight situation on precisely zero fingers.
So when I spotted the Bryant Park ice skating event on the WiCM calendar, I thought Lady Luck had finally stopped playing hard to get.
But there’s no sense in taking chances by being overconfident. I took high school English; I know what hubris is. So I prepared. I spent several months strictly adhering to a world-class training regime. I sent video footage to my former coach for comprehensive technique analysis. I even contacted my old team’s nutritionist to update my habits with the latest dietary developments (“acai berries are SO HOT right now, chipotle peppers are out, and meat is the new pomegranate”).
I was primed for glory. I could sense WiCM’s need for a hero, and I was ready to accept the call. I’d do it with a flourish, flying across the ice, years of training behind every stroke. They’d probably carry me off on their shoulders, I reasoned.
And then, just as I was perfecting my “oh was that fast? I didn’t even notice I was going fast” face, cast-irony struck me down with a heavy thud. The rink guards had reversed the flow of skaters, pushing the swirl of uncoordinated movement clockwise.
Many of you may have no idea what a dirty word “clockwise” is to a former speedskater, but it ranks up there with the four-letter all-stars. There’s no better way to neutralize the skills of someone who has spent most of his life exclusively making left turns.
I was suddenly nothing more than a recreational skater. There would be no ticker tape parade or fawning displays of admiration. Nobody but me would ever know I was wearing a full spandex racing suit under my civilian clothes.
While I failed to impress anyone, and total acceptance into WiCM would elude me for at least another week, I have to reluctantly admit I had a great time. Doing something active was the perfect way to think about healthy lifestyle initiatives. We often talk about exercise as a chore, but a night of skating reminded me how being healthy and active can be as simple as going outside and playing.
Whatever. My quest for total WiCM acceptance continues…