It’s been four years since we last huddled around the television to cheer on the U.S.A. in competitive bob sledding, luging, snowboarding and figure skating…but really, does anyone actually watch the figure skating? If your answer is yes, then you are either a) over the age of 65 b) a Michiganer that grew up on frozen ponds c) Russian or d) me.
Without grasping the intensions of the sport or ever participating before, figure skating can seem lame and hard to understand. Most guys often find a struggle with the notion of gathering around to watch tiny people in frilly costumes dance around a slab of ice. Imagine a group of your bros sitting there in your living room, eating wings, drinking beers, watching women hoist themselves into the air and then get harshly judged in a way that no one truly understands. Fat chance that’s a scene you’ll ever stumble upon in real life.
Surprisingly, millions of people do congregate to watch the figure skating portion of the games without recognizing the amount of painstaking hard work and agonizing dedication the fanciful Olympic sport demands. It’s a lot more than just ridiculously silly costumes.
Baseball, football and soccer were the most common sports found among my circle of friends in elementary school and that trend still continues today. However, at the age of four years old I became involved in a much more rare sport, especially for the sunshine state. My grandma laced me up for a simple “learn-to-skate” session as a young, but feisty little shrimp, and soon the sport swallowed me whole.
Since birth, I’ve been competitive by nature, but I do wonder if starting such a bloodthirsty sport at such a young age wove aggression into my character. All throughout grade school, beginning in kindergarten, I would attend ice sessions at the crack of dawn at a nearby rink and rush to school in hopes of making it to early morning bell work at 7:30. Right after the release bell sounded at the end of each school day, I was off to the rink again for a second lesson with my coach.
I fell in love with the challenge of balancing on a blade only 3/16ths of an inch in width. For me, just comprehending that the slippery friction holding me up was merely slick ice and stainless steel was a thrill worth living for.
Figure skaters learn to trust the solid surface enough to consciously be tossed high in the air and contort their bodies into agile postures all while spinning rapidly on only the thin silver blade. As graceful and effortless as it may appear in performances, there is an insane amount of training and dedication that goes into being a successfully competitive figure skater. Seeing my own fair share of ruptured tailbones, mild concussions and gnarly blisters, I can vouch for the throbbing pains and the willingness to train through these injuries.
In this case, every inch of my personal work ethic is the product of surviving multiple years of failure, success, pain and heartbreak without losing site of the one ultimate goal on the ice.
While my friends hit the beaches, every day of my summers were dedicated to grueling eight-hour routines on and off the ice, purely for the satisfaction of receiving the gold medal on top of the podium. The hours of ballet, boot camp, palates and endurance training I pushed myself through were all part of my Olympic dream, but little did I realize they would be the same disciplines to help me accomplish a fresh, new dream.
After finding a concluding point in my competitive figure skating career for respective and health reasons, I discovered myself gravitating towards a new ambition. The same critical work principles from many years of skating created a new path for an unforeseen future and my aspirations transformed from one of gold medals to one of college acceptance letters. I unearthed fantasies about going to the University of Florida and the lights above my Olympic dream dimmed as I closed that chapter of my life.
I watched a fellow competitor and friend become the U.S. National Champion and find her way to the 2010 Olympic Winter Games in Vancouver as I worked hard towards my scholarly endeavors. The feelings of both envy and joy for my long-time friend were powerful, but no feeling exceeded my euphoria when reading the long awaited University of Florida acceptance letter. Still to this day, the treasured letter marks a milestone that inevitably changed the course of my life.
The sense of accomplishment paired with the proud smiles on my parent’s faces became more pleasing than any of my feats on ice, but I owe my success to the skills the sport taught me. Although lacing up my skates to capture a gold medal is just a dream of the past, time has healed the loss of one fantasy and fostered the growth of another.
When you watch the beloved Olympics this year, I urge you to take on a new perspective on some of the overshadowed games. Respect the nature of figure skating, a sports built on both sweat and sequins.
