Sticks and Stones
Kristin Geyer
Issue date: 3/3/10 Section: Viewpoint
When my sister and I were 11 and 12, we went to the Frog Pond skating rink in Boston almost weekly with our dad. Seemingly normal activity? It would be, except Erika and I disregarded the neat loops of the crowd to B-line it for the center of the ice. Upon our arrival, we became Kristi Yamaguchi and Nancy Kerrigan, performing triple lutzes and double axels worthy of the Gold. I couldn't help but relive what I suppose were my athletic glory days in light of the 2010 Olympics. I performed at Frog Pond when I was 11 as if I was in Vancouver at the Pacific Coliseum last week.
Though we were decked out in our hideous Chicago Bulls and University of Michigan Starter jackets (teams of which we had no affiliation to, nor any explanation for the fashion misstep), we convinced ourselves that we were dazzled in the most ethereal, sparkling costumes rivaling even that of Vancouver. It wasn't really about the outfit (who am I kidding, it's always about the outfit), but more so it was the empowered feeling that nothing in the world could make me stop achieving my goals on that ice. Nothing. Except of course when the Zamboni had to resurface. Minor setback.
Although I was sure my spins were up to par with that of this year's gold medal winner, Kim Yu-Na, I had to woman-up and abandon my delusions in the end. I have neglected, thus far, to mention my inability to walk in a straight line and my habit of bumping into doorframes. I definitely had the heart, but not the raw talent to be a figure skating goddess. So as I watched the competition in Vancouver, I envied the competitors not for their natural grace, but more because their biggest goals are becoming a reality. The athletes have worked towards this for the better part of their lives and finally their tireless work is rewarded. Just as their tears in the opening ceremony indicated, all of their dreams are coming true.
As of yet, I'm dreamless. I mean, I think I am dreamless. I have goals, but standing on a podium with a flag around me is not one of them. I haven't been training one discipline for fifteen-plus years, and picking a major was as hard for me as landing an aerial jump was for Team USA's Scotty Bahrke. Once I achieve my goals, how will I even realize that I am having my Olympic moment?
Though we were decked out in our hideous Chicago Bulls and University of Michigan Starter jackets (teams of which we had no affiliation to, nor any explanation for the fashion misstep), we convinced ourselves that we were dazzled in the most ethereal, sparkling costumes rivaling even that of Vancouver. It wasn't really about the outfit (who am I kidding, it's always about the outfit), but more so it was the empowered feeling that nothing in the world could make me stop achieving my goals on that ice. Nothing. Except of course when the Zamboni had to resurface. Minor setback.
Although I was sure my spins were up to par with that of this year's gold medal winner, Kim Yu-Na, I had to woman-up and abandon my delusions in the end. I have neglected, thus far, to mention my inability to walk in a straight line and my habit of bumping into doorframes. I definitely had the heart, but not the raw talent to be a figure skating goddess. So as I watched the competition in Vancouver, I envied the competitors not for their natural grace, but more because their biggest goals are becoming a reality. The athletes have worked towards this for the better part of their lives and finally their tireless work is rewarded. Just as their tears in the opening ceremony indicated, all of their dreams are coming true.
As of yet, I'm dreamless. I mean, I think I am dreamless. I have goals, but standing on a podium with a flag around me is not one of them. I haven't been training one discipline for fifteen-plus years, and picking a major was as hard for me as landing an aerial jump was for Team USA's Scotty Bahrke. Once I achieve my goals, how will I even realize that I am having my Olympic moment?
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