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Joie de VIVre

Helping girls and young women find strength, confidence and "balance" on ice. Blogging for Upper East Side Informer and Current Skate of Mind.

VIV Moment

From ages 8-19, I was a competitive figure skater, sometimes training up to eight hours per day in the summers. At 14, I moved from Wisconsin to Delaware with my newly divorced mother, in order to skate at one of the top training centers in the country. I went to high school only half-days and traveled all over the U.S. to perform and compete. My young life was devoted to the sport.

I did not make it to the Olympics or get anywhere near them. In order to make it to the Winter Games, a skater must rank in the top two or three in his or her event — the highest I ever got was 23rd. I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t making it to the top. Maybe it was a lack of drive, a deficiency of talent, the wrong body type (I was tall and had a lot of limb to organize), bad luck — or a combination of all.

I enjoyed the costumes, the music and the travel. I especially loved performing and soaked up applause like a sponge. At one competition, I received a rink-wide standing ovation and thought I might just stay out there curtsying forever. But I disliked the incessant, mind-numbing practice, the constant injuries, the cattiness born of competition. There was no time to hang out friends, let alone boyfriends. But skating had become my dream and my goal. At a certain point, it was simply who I was.

Due to an accident on the ice, I left skating. It was a split-second misstep resulting in a minor concussion, a laceration across my forehead and a fractured collarbone. A month later, I started college at the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia, scarred and disappointed. Mostly, I had a broken heart.

I didn’t tell any of my new friends and dorm mates that I’d skated competitively. Instead, I kept my hair draped strategically over my scar and attempted to reinvent myself as a literary person. I had managed to fit in a good dose of reading and writing during my years of training.

But it was impossible to keep my skating a secret. I didn’t have summer-camp stories to exchange, didn’t know any card games and my knowledge of popular TV shows was spotty. When the campus rink contacted me to teach lessons, at the suggestion of a former coach, I agreed in order to pick up some extra money. After that, I began to reveal bits and pieces of my skating background. Though people were impressed and curious, I downplayed it.

After college, I got a graduate degree in creative writing at Sarah Lawrence College in Bronxville, NY, and read a lot more books. After a brief stint in advertising, I made my way back to coaching skating. The first night I walked into the local rink, I was approached by a judge who remembered watching me skate. This small moment was flattering and encouraging. But I remained dedicated to my writing.

Over the next 10 years, my coaching business continued to grow and was surprisingly successful — and I found that I really enjoyed it. I liked taking talented kids to competitions and helping beginners merely glide. I began to see that I was helping kids reach goals and learn about themselves. I moved to New York City and found that my coaching schedule lent itself well to the writing life.

One piece of the puzzle was still missing: the right relationship. When I turned 35, I met Rob, a contemporary artist who sculpts, paints and makes digital prints. Our relationship clicked immediately. After only a short time, we started talking about “our” future. I was elated.

On Dec. 20, 2008, he suggested we go skating at Rockefeller Center after dinner. This was our first time skating together — it was fun to see him on skates and carve out circles with him, hand in hand. People cleared a path as I swerved back and forth on one foot and did some spins. Gliding around, I realized how at peace I had become with my skating. At that moment, I noted how effortless it was for me, and how right. My thinking had shifted and I finally realized that I always have been — and am — a skater.

After a few laps, Rob stopped, got down on one knee, and proposed. I said yes, beaming. Then we both gazed around and noticed that everyone on the rink stopped skating to watch, and they were clapping! I was once again center-ice, unexpectedly soaking in the applause of a crowd.

The ring was snowball-shaped with a collection of tiny diamonds. I was not only dazzled; I was experiencing an overwhelming sense of cohesion between my past and my present and between myself and this other person. Though I hadn’t accomplished what I’d wanted to as a skater — the gold medals of my dreams eluded me — I knew skating would always be a huge part of who I am.

Tags: Bronxville, coach, constant injuries, contemporary artist, deficiency, Delaware, Entertainment, Figure skating, judge, New York, New York City, Pennsylvania, Rob, Rockefeller Center, Sarah Lawrence College, scar, skater, Skating, Sports, Sports entertainment, the Olympics, the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia, the Winter Games, United States, University of Pennsylvania, Wisconsin

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