I bowed my head, closed my eyes, and pictured myself in my final pose of the performance. Chest rising and falling from the exertion, with tears in my eyes again, but this time from gratitude.
I was ready.
I followed her out to the edge of the ice, past other skaters, staff, volunteers, and a million cameras. I took off my practice jacket and guards and placed them on the boards, then turned back to Mel for one final pep talk.
We touched foreheads, and I tried to focus on what she was saying, not the cameras pushing closer to capture the moment.
“I believe in you,” she whispered. “No matter what, I’m so proud of you.”
A calm unlike anything I’d experienced washed over me, like she’d just injected me with a sedative. The jangly, coiled-spring sensation I always battled prior to performances was replaced by a serenity. Aknowing.
“Thank you for being you,” I whispered back.
We locked eyes for a few additional seconds, then she let go and I skated out to the center of the ice.
I could’ve sworn I felt the energy in the building shift as I got into position.
There’s no stillness quite like what a skater feels in the moments before the performance music begins. Members of the audience could probably hear the rustling and coughing of their fellow spectators, but to me the packed rink was tomb silent. I couldn’t seeanything beyond the borders of the ice. My breathing preemptively slowed to match the rhythm to come.
The first quiet notes of the song began and my focus narrowed even more. Now, I was a storyteller, not a skater.
I started off the performance graceful, like every other skater that night. I was soft, and poised, but a little reserved, skating like I was the same delicate flower of the past. People who’d never seen the performance might assume that I’d maintain the same level of doe-eyed wonder throughout the piece, but the pre-chorus tone shift and my corresponding spins signaled that I’d been holding back.
Each move was stronger than the last as the music swelled and became more cinematic. Not a single wobble, just clean, blissful skating that was so on target that I had to hold back from celebrating after every successful move. I still had a minute and a half to go, with the most challenging jumps to come.
The familiar burning in my legs signaled that I was reaching the halfway point. I could track my performance not only by the choreography I was performing, but also how my body felt as I moved through it.
I was now in a flow state so intense that it was like I was watching my own performance as it was happening. I saw myself stepping into my strength right after the chorus and embodying the sensuality of the moves. There was no truer performance for me than this one, no better depiction of how it felt to claim my power throughmyefforts, not as a by-product of someone else’s tutoring.
My spectator-eye view of my performance meant that I could turn off the jump math portion of my brain. All I had to do wasstick to the plan and keep skating cleanly and I’d dominate; there was no need for me to try to make up for on-ice mistakes by pushing my performance to be more challenging than it needed to be.
But Iwantedto.
My only scheduled triple axel was in my “Bulletproof” free skate later in the week, but I’d played with adding one to “Movement” as well during practice sessions. Mel aimed for being predictably successful, and normally I agreed, but I’d also never skated quite like this before.
I felt untouchable.
I could do it. I’d never been more confident in my performance. I wanted to claim this moment once and for all as mine, and an unexpected triple A would do it.
The launch point in the song was rapidly approaching. The tension of the music narrowed to just Hozier’s voice backed by a choir, and I could almost feel the collected inhalation of a thousand breaths as the sound paused for a millisecond and I launched myself into the air.
And hovered there, spinning without any concern for gravity.
I could visualize my landing before I’d even finished my final revolution, and when I actually touched down the reality of it matched what I’d seen in my mind.
Flawless.
I’d been focused inward throughout the performance, but I finally allowed myself to listen to the cheers from the crowd as I moved into the remaining components of the piece. It was the final section, where I fully stepped into my strength, and it felt right to be beaming as I finished my triple lutz and toe loop combo.
I was flying. Second half jump bonus, here I come.
The instruments quieted again after the crescendo until all that was left was Hozier’s voice and the choir wailing behind him. Lush, haunting, and underscored by the slice of my skates on the ice.
And then it was over.
I froze in my final pose, bent over backward at the waist like I didn’t have a spinal cord, with my arms outstretched. It was both a welcome and a threat; I’d bared my soft soul to the audience, but now every one of them knew that there was steel beneath the velvet.
When I stood up I felt like I’d just had an out-of-body experience. I couldn’t remember what I’d just done, all I knew was that the entire arena was on their feet, applauding for me without any regard for the flags they clutched in their hands.
