Dancing (and jumping for joy!) on ice

Sure I’ve touched on this before, but hey! When you’re enjoying yourself, what’s the problem with going back again?

Ice skating. I may or may not have mentioned my foray back on to the ice a few months back. Ended in tears. Not mine, I hasten to add: the boy was fine for most of the session, including the bits where he fell over, until toward the end when he fell and hit himself quite hard.

That, I think, was a hit too far and he is now adamant he doesn’t skate. Shame!

I, on the other hand .. . well, I said today that I wasn’t doing badly for 50-something and twenty years since I was last on a rink.

I fibbed. I have been on a rink about twice in the last twenty years. Once, when the boy had his unfortunate experience – and once, the best part of 8 years back, at a rink somewhere in Essex. Chelmsford? Colchester? It doesn’t much matter.

The Essex experience was not good. At that time it was over ten years since I had last skated and whilst I wasn’t bad, I managed to fall quite badly myself. Result: any attempt to prove to the rest of the family that I knew what I was about was badly dented, along with my knee.

But the few months back, and today, were both magical. Years dropped off and even if I was not back to the pace I had when I was a twenty-something speed skater, I was still pretty impressive.

So why the problem in Essex? I suppose I can’t put the blame entirely on the county. I wonder now if it didn’t have something to do with how overweight I was.

Today I am probably much closer to my twenty-something weight. Even to my teenage weight. So my balance is good. Everything feels good and right. Pretty confident, too.

No hassles at the rink (I had wondered, briefly, whether I might get some, skating being ever so slightly “below the salt” as activities go). But no. A couple of younger children did the staring thing. Their parents were pretty good – and one of the rink stewards was ever so sweet, keeping an eye on the time for me, because there was no clock visible and I don’t wear a watch.

Down side? Think this is the first time I’ve gone into the Ladies and its smelt as bad as I remember the Gents smelling. On the other hand, I didn’t try the Gents, so possibly that facility would have been even worse!

Otherwise, whenever I get back on the ice its like dreaming.. . the glide, the glamour, the speed. Today, clothes tart that I am, there was the lovely feel of my loose top and scarf just starting to trail out ever so slightly as I came out of corners. I was looking good, feeling good, enjoying myself.

Anytime, folks: if anyone would like a trip out on the ice, just let me know.

And meanwhile, I had an ever-so-slightly wicked thought. I’m not as young as I was, not as fast. But I wonder if I’m still of a standard to join their ice hockey team. Their Ladies’ Team! Yay!

Very tempting, if they’d have me. I assume that I now qualify for that side of the fence, and wouldn’t be forced back into the male league (would need to check that out). But it’s a wicked thought however it plays: because of course, given the lower league jealousies, I can imagine all the howls of protest if I turn out to be of any ability still and did play for a League Team.

Not, I think transphobia: just the typical lower league jostling for position and annoyance that I would supposedly have the muscle of a bloke but be playing on the Women’s side. One I think for post-op and as and when I’ve recovered my strength.. . too, for when my boobs are a bit less sensitive: cause being body blocked the way I feel now just doesn’t bear thinking about.



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