This is an epic idea since we spent much of our childhood winters on the ice. Eventually, as an adult, I turned in my figure skates for hockey skates, never mastering anything more challenging than some casual pond hockey but still spending inordinate amounts of time on frozen New England surfaces.
I still have figure skates and hockey skates, so that simple part of the equation is not an issue. I even have my hockey stick.
The problem is that I haven't been on ice skates in probably eighteen years.
After a few nasty and inventive injuries and years of cheap footwear, my feet (one in particular) decided to rebel. It became too painful to wear most shoes. Skates? Forget about it. The pain was not worth the pleasure. I packed away my skates and eventually succumbed to some major foot surgery. Within a year of the reconstruction of my driving foot, I could wear sneakers without pain, branching out oh-so gingerly to heels and boots and things I used to love wearing, though most of my pre-surgery shoes ended up in the donation box because of the new shape of my foot.
And yet I was and still am nervous about putting the skates back on. What if they don't fit? What if my ankles give out? What if -- after learning to skate before my basic recall skills had cemented themselves all those decades ago -- what if I have forgotten how to ice skate?
Three times a day I make fresh ice on the patio. I do this four days in a row. Eventually I get so efficient at making ice that I have several giant pitchers filling at a time in the sink, throwing two to three pitchers' worth of water out the front door and the same amount out the back door, watching the water meet in the middle and begin to freeze over. I'm so good at this routine that I stop putting shoes and jacket on and just stand on the steps in socks. In the early morning when I throw water down, I am still in my pajamas, that's how casually I take this venture. I have it down to a science of three minutes per fresh ice coat.
Finally, on Friday enough ice exists for me to try going back and forth in my skates on a space about four by ten feet (if even). This ice is not here for any real skating to happen; this ice is for me to try out my skates after nearly two decades to see if my feet and, more importantly, if my ankles will hold up.
Seriously. I would rather look like an ass hanging on to my own fence before I attempt to skate on a rink in public and in front of my sister.
I am pleased to report that my ancient skates still fit, my feet do not hurt, and my ankles do not wobble. I am also pleased to report that I can let my patio ice melt away now. It's not enough to actually skate on, anyway, but it certainly has been enough to prevent my mid-life skating embarrassment.
I'll keep the blog posted.
