A Dream Reawakens

Several years after the visit to the Broadmoor Skating Club,* I sat in a hospital as my parents filled out paperwork to admit me for inpatient treatment.  I had just withdrawn from college to seek treatment for an illness.  Life was no longer recognizable to me, devoid of all structure, definition, and predictability. 

A few days after I was admitted to the hospital I sat alone outside on a patio in a chaise lounge, the frigid air of the late February afternoon rendered deceivingly less chilly by a sunny and radiant blue sky.  I stared up at the sky with a vacuous gaze, stymied by what was happening to me.  I attempted over and over again in my mind to understand my current predicament, which only bred more confusion.  My gaze fixated upon a jet as its contrail sketched across the sky.  I thought about how the passengers on the plane were headed somewhere, that their life had a purpose – I envied them.  What was my purpose, I wondered, now that everything I’d taken for granted about my life was called into question?  One truth emerged above all the cacophony, the only thing that I was truly certain of in that turbulent, unstable time: I still wanted to be a figure skater.

During my stay at the hospital, thoughts of figure skating served as a respite from an otherwise arduous time.  They helped give my all of sudden uncertain life a little bit of structure and predictability, providing me with something to look forward to and live for.  One day during visiting hours my thoughtful and caring little sister brought me a CD player, knowing I enjoyed listening to music and thinking it could be therapeutic for me.  I was touched to receive the gift and used it to listen to music that I would like to skate to one day.  I would choreograph programs while listening to the music, the elements and moves appearing clearly and distinctly in my mind as if they were vestiges of a story already written, waiting silently throughout the years to be rediscovered.  Perhaps not so surprisingly, given my life challenges at that point in time I was drawn to more melancholic pieces of music.  Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade and the first movement of Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Minor were my favorites.  As I listened to these great musical works, it became apparent to me just how important my musical training in my growing up years had been, how relevant and applicable it would be to my skating.  My years playing the violin gave me an ability to appreciate and interpret music, an ability not all figure skaters have.  For in figure skating it is not enough to be able to jump and spin, to simply possess great athletic prowess.  One must also be able to showcase their athleticism in an artistic manner to a piece of music.  Without being able to connect athleticism to music, a figure skater will not be successful.    

Careful to provide attention to all parts of figure skating, in addition to working on the musical and artistic side I worked on the athletic and technical.  Stretching became a part of my daily routine.  My goal was to limber up my body so that challenging body positions would appear beautifully effortless upon the ice.  Much of my focus was on lengthening the extension of my spiral, a basic yet iconic figure skating move I practiced several times each day in front of the mirror in my room – one leg supporting my body weight, the free leg extended directly behind and emerging above my head, pointed toes reaching towards the sky, arms outstretched, shoulders melting down my arching back, chin up, the strain across my chest a welcome sensation. 

I soon experienced an epiphany that the dark and sudden detour my life had taken contained a very bright and uplifting side – it allowed me to face myself and rediscover and acknowledge truths that I’d repressed and buried.  Above all else, skating was presenting itself as the path I would follow to find my way back to myself.  I was determined that when I made it through this difficult chapter skating would play a prominent role in my life, a life that would be very different than the life I’d led in the past.  Thus, from a frightening and unpredictable detour in my life, skating had emerged as an intensely bright and guiding silver lining.

*See blog post from 11/27/22 titled “Prologue Part 1: A Dream Awakens (and then goes dormant)” for context.

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