Older and Wiser?

Today I was retelling an old tale that I thought maybe my blog readers might enjoy.

It happened last year around this time when the river that runs behind our farm became jammed with ice resulting in the river running over its banks in many places. One of the places that it ran over was in the back of our field which then froze and provided a nice little patch of ice to skate on (for a couple of days) before we eventually decided to make our own rink closer to the house (another tale that should be retold).

I used to figure skate. I started at about age 6 which is considered old to start and so my Olympic dreams where already about 3 years behind my peers when I started. Never the less I loved to skate and continued to do so in some capacity up until the point that I became pregnant with Little Bear.

When the ice rink formed in the back field I thought this was an excellent opportunity to strap on the ol' blades and revisit the sport I enjoyed for years (Papa Bear and I have some argument about whether or not it is actually a sport - we won't go there).

The first obstacle that I came across was that both pairs of skates that I own seem to have shrunk? No, that's not right but they sure as heck didn't fit well at all. Oh well I bucked up and tied them up anyway. No pain, no gain right? More like no pain, no blisters but either way I sucked it up. The second obstacle was that my skates had not been sharpened in over 6 years, also a problem but not enough to stop me.

It was a pretty shaky start but eventually it got a little easier and I felt pretty good skating around in circles and testing edges with ease. Stopping resulted in a few near falls but I felt great. So great that I thought what the heck lets try something bigger. I started with a few really simple jumps that didn't require much skill and when they were successfully executed I got a little cocky and decided to go BIGGER. That is where the trouble started.

It was a pretty basic jump (which I am not going to mention the name of because of how basic it is and so it would be that much more embarrassing). I entered the jump not too badly. Even the take off was not terrible but the landing, well the landing didn't really exist. Instead I ended up flat on my back staring up at the sky. I remember laying there and can clearly recall the fluffy white clouds floating in a blue-grey sky. I remember laying there unsure whether or not I was capable of getting up as my body reminded me I was not 18 anymore.

I remember laying there thinking: I hope nobody drove by at that particular time that I made my failed attempt. I have to get up but just not quite yet. If my mother in law looks out her kitchen window right now and sees me laying here like this she is going to panic and think that I am hurt (or possibly dead) and send someone out here. I have to get up.

So I gathered myself (and my dignity) and picked my poor aching body up off the cold ice and stood there for a second thinking about what an idiot I was for trying to launch my older, larger, wimpier body into the air. Was I nuts? Older and wiser? - I think not!

The rest of my skating for the rest of the winter kept both my feet on the ground (except when my butt was). I don't think I will be attempting anything that crazy again at least until I have removed some of the obstacles such as getting skates that fit better and that have nice sharp blades. For now I will have to settle for watching others hurl themselves into skating jumps on TV from the safety of my couch.