Calamity Jane

So, yesterday I bought myself a pair of skates.

"What kind," one pal asked me.

"Well, they're not figures skates and they're not hockey skates, but they do have picks on the toes," I answered.

Pal giggled. "So they're not roller-skates," she said.

Mentally I cautioned myself to avoid starting a fight. See, "skates" means ice-skates. "Rollerblades" is the proper term to use when describing things with wheels, these days, though I have actually glimpsed someone using the kind I had as a kid - the two steel wheels on the front and two in the back, attached to a clamp setup that you screwed onto the bottom of whatever shoes you were wearing. They usually fell off once you got going, and the screeching, grating, ear-splitting sounds of steel wheels on pavement certainly let parents know where their children were at any given time…

Back to yesterday.

They are called "leisure skates". They look like ski boots. (Alright - DOWNHILL ski boots.) With blades on the bottom.

This place actually sells real genuine figure-skates. By genuine, I mean the kind where you pay upwards of $300 for the boots, then you select and pay for your blades. And they analyze your gait in them and align the blades for your foot, and they heat and distort the boots so they conform exactly to what Mother Nature gave you. It's called "l'Expert de la patine", literally translated as the Skate Expert, though I'm sure any entrepreneur with half a brain would have called it "The Skate Place" if it were being given a proper English name.

I never knew places like this existed. Seriously, I thought Elizabeth Manley and Toller Cranston bought their figure skates for $25 at Canadian Tire, just like I did when I was younger! The last pair of skates I bought, in my twenties, cost $50, and my daughter uses them to this day.

Well, of course none of the real figure-skaters bought their hardware at the Tire - no pun intended. They went to places like l'Expert. It's just simply that I never knew any differently.

I was delighted to discover this place. I went in and sat down on the fitting stands, took off my boots, and watched them all working.

A teenager was selling hockey skates to a five-year old boy (and his father). He watched the little guy wobble around for a few minutes, then took the skates off him to put them on the heater/stretcher thing. He heated and hammered and pumped a five-foot long handle, then came back and put the skates back on his customer with instructions to not move for fifteen long minutes. The instructions were repeated for about five of those fifteen minutes - we're talking a five-year old here. When the tyke finally did get up and walk around in his now re-formed skates, even I could see the difference. His left ankle no longer tilted in. And he wobbled much less.

Wow!

A chinese couple next to me was getting figure skates for their eight-year old boy. "Ah," I thought to myself, "the little guy watched the olympics and wants to be the next Patrick Chan!"

What I found interesting about this trio was how silent the boy and his dad were. The salesman fitted the boots, explaining to the kid that he must put his heel solidly in the back of the boot. He checked for fit, he talked up a storm. Dad and son listened without comment. "In September, you remove this insole," he instructed the kid, flapping the piece in the air. "They'll still fit you for 3-4 months after that."

Mom was horrified. I have an idea that she thought Patrick Chan bought his skates at the Tire. She grilled the salesman about getting a size larger, and I could see the concern in his eyes as he patiently tried to explain to her that this was the only way. Various options for consignment were discussed, and eventually Father and Son went off to pay for the things. I made a comment to Mom.

"He likes figure-skating?"

Mom's face was still registering shock. "These things cost two-hundred dollars!" This was the source of the anxiety.

"We've just seen a different kind of skate," she told me, "that is expandable! That's what I wanted him to get!"

"Expandable?" I was immediately suspicious, visions of old-fashioned roller-skate frames dancing in my mind.

I was right. The contraptions she had seen could be made longer, and the claim was they'd last for three full years.

I allowed my skepticism to show in my face and her voice trailed off. "Surely not for figure-skating," I said, and now she gave me a quizzical look.

"Well, after all, he's going to be jumping!" I said. "Any mechanical gizmo can slide and break. He could break his ankle if the skate wobbles even a little bit!"

That registered. But the cost still seemed overwhelming to her.

I shrugged and shook my head sympathetically. "Well, that's sports," I said. "At least you've only got to buy skates! If he were playing hockey or football, you'd be looking at lots more money!"

More complaints and wistful thinking about the expandable skates. I shook my head. "I wouldn't take the chance," I said. We parted amicably, Father and Son already through the cash, both standing hands in pockets, patiently waiting for Mom to get over her shock.

Soon it was my turn. I was ready, raring to go. I expected to be paying between $300-600 to get my big feet into skates for the first time in 25 years.

The young lady who served me quickly assessed my needs. "So, you're not doing any jumps," she said.

"Oh not at all!" I replied. "My goal is to get skating on the Rideau Canal next year."

"You need Leisure Skates," she said, and "follow me."

There was another floor. Okay, this place was even more wonderful than I'd thought!

And so I made my way to the car with my new Leisure Skates in the box, having paid a whopping $89.72 to get me on my way to one of my old favourite sports. I gave Hubby a quick call and we arranged to meet at the downtown indoor rink near where we both work. I was so excited I simply couldn't wait to try them out, and certainly couldn't wait to go home and collect my knee and elbow protectors and helmet. No, I just wanted to go around in circles for about half an hour. Hubby was coming in case I fell badly enough to be taken to hospital. The protective gear I would wear next time, when I was alone.

Now perhaps you understand the title of this post. Yes, I fell. Yes, badly.

Not right away. I made my first shaky circle clutching the handrail. That took fifteen full minutes. The second circle took three. Feeling cocky, I went to one of the "Refs" - safety officials dressed like referees who patrolled the skaters, picking up people who fell and cautioning reckless skaters to behave themselves. I explained to him that this was my first time on ice in 25 years and that I wanted to see if I could still stop, and asked if he would hold my left hand for me while I tried. So away we went, I stuck the top pick of my left foot into the ice, spun around 180 degrees, lifted to my toes, and stopped perfectly. I thanked him, and off he went.

Hubby got the whole thing on video. I felt as proud of myself as I'd ever been. Here she is, a 52 year old battleaxe, getting off her duff to get some good old-fashioned exercise. I'd gone around the rink twice and was already stopping! Now I only had to do it on my own.

So off I went, turned my left ankle out, and…

Splat. Oh yeah, maybe I shoulda gone around a few more times first.

Thankfully, I did not hit my head. And, even more thankfully, not the knee I fell on a couple of months ago. I went down on the other side this time, left hip and thigh, and left elbow.

My god, ice is HARD! I was instantly nauseous. I fought to stand up again quickly though, because ice is also COLD!

I leaned heavily against the rail, reminding myself to breathe and wondering if I should puke on the ice itself or see if I could get my head over top of the glass. A few people on either side of the glass asked me if I was all right. I didn't know. I just stood and breathed and shook, till the nausea subsided a teensy bit. Clutching the handrail, I made it back to Hubby. He filmed me pouting and showing my elbow. He hadn't seen anything.

I skated twice more around the rink and got out, came to sit with Hubby, when I discovered that my elbow was growing a bump. It was the size of a golf ball, I noticed, when I lay my left arm down on the table and raised it up with a yelp that startled nearby patrons. There was a spongy golf ball on the end of my elbow, and did it ever HURT!

Hubby laughed. "That's the sort of thing you put ICE on," he said, noting the irony of the situation.

So there we sat for the next hour, me with my elbow planted gingerly on a bag of ice donated by a local merchant, Hubby taking pics for posterity, he and I joking about anything. It was only then I realized, watching little kiddies fall down in their snowsuits and get right up again, that they were a lot closer to the ground and didn't weigh as much as I did, so their falls didn't hurt as much as mine. I'm near six feet, in skates, and that's a long way down for an "ample" woman like me!

So, when I can walk again, and lie on my left side again, and bend my elbow again, I'll put the skates back on, AFTER I put on the helmet, elbow, and knee protectors.

And make myself a six-inch thick quilted skirt to go around my hips.