I Can(‘t) Ice Skate

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.

Our newest hobby is ice skating. My daughter heard her school friends talking about ice skating, and then she started to ask me about it repeatedly. So one Saturday afternoon we headed to the local arena to skate with her friends. The rink is run by the city, and it is free for children; adults with a library card pay only $3.50.

The website advertised skate rental, but when we showed up, the guy at the check-in desk said the skate rental wasn’t open that day. We didn’t have our own ice skates. Because, you see, this was our first time skating. Well, my daughter’s first time skating – for me, probably two decades had passed since I had last ice skated (or, attempted to ice skate).

Thankfully, disaster was averted when our friends showed up and they had an extra pair of skates. They were loose on my daughter, but would suffice for an emergency situation (and this was one – she would have gone home crying if she hadn’t been able to skate). My daughter got on the ice with her friends (while I watched on from the benches) and she took to it instantly.

I’m not usually a pessimist, but with all her excitement leading up to her first skate, I was worried about her expectations running sky high, and feared the experiment may end in bruises, tears, a hurt ego, and giving up quickly. But she was cautiously courageous (though not fearless) and slowly but surely worked her way around the edge of the rink.

By the third time around, she was able to let go of the wall, and managed to skate for short distances unsupported. She only fell once – when the staff blew the whistle to alert everyone that it was time for the Zamboni to come freshen up the ice, and she had to skate across the middle of the rink.

She was so enamored of it, she asked if we could go back the next day. This first foray into skating was right before our spring break trip to Vancouver, and she insisted that we go ice skating during our vacation. I did some googling and located a public rink (with skate rental) in central Vancouver and we went twice during our trip. Both times I got on the ice, too, and the two of us made progress, had fun, and got a workout.

Our first order of business on our first Saturday back in Montreal was to go to the second hand sports store and buy a pair of skates. We each found skates that fit us, then rushed out to catch the bus to the rink to arrive in time for open skate starting at 2pm. It was only when we were at the bus stop that I realized I had forgotten to ask them to sharpen our skates after we bought them. I didn’t want to miss the bus, so I decided not to worry about it; we would get them sharpened another time. Wrong.

At the rink, we laced up our new skates. My daughter was over the moon and eagerly awaiting the arrival of her friend. As soon as her friend arrived, we hit the ice, and – immediately realized something was wrong.

When I skated in Vancouver, I was nervous, because as soon as I got on the ice, it was so slippery, and I was worried about falling. Slowly but surely I started to learn the moves to push myself forward on the skates and glide. But today, the ice was not slippery. And no matter how much pushing I did, I was not gliding anywhere. My daughter had the same problem, and her face was crestfallen. Apparently sharpening your skates *is* important.

We were stuck walk-shuffling around the rink to complete a full lap on dull blades, doing whatever the opposite of skating was. Thankfully, our friend came to the rescue again with her spare skates, so my daughter could do a couple of “real” laps, before we had to rush back to the sports store to get there before closing and ask them to sharpen the skates we had just bought a few hours ago.

As soon as the guy at the sharpening machine saw them, he said “Oh yeah, those are bad – completely dull.”

The moral of the story is, it takes time to learn to be Canadian.