It was another move that was as natural for me as walking, yet in the speed skates I couldn’t help the ridiculous little wobble after each push off.
I pointed to my feet. “That’s a lot more real estate down there than I’m used to.”
“Yeah, but you’re a natural. You’re already doing instinctive weight transfers. Now let’s work that posture a little to make you look official. Watch me for a sec.”
He sped up so that he was in front of me and hunched into the low, crouched speed skating position, which meant that I was being forced to stare at his ass. I hoped the camera angles didn’t make it looktooobvious. He turned around to face me.
“Now you. Deep knee bend, and get that back low, like you’re a table.”
I crouched in an approximation of what he’d just done.
“Lower, and flatten that back!”
My thighs reacted like I’d never done a squat in my life.
“Okay, now hold that and follow behind me,” he barked.
Freakingimpossible.
Ben started doing the ubiquitous shifting that speed skaters did on straightaways, swinging his arms in time. The up close and personal vantage point proved how graceful he was, and within a few seconds of watching I found my body adapting to his rhythm. My strides evened out, until we were nearly in perfect cadence, like we were waltzing.
He did a quick turn to watch me and I struggled to keep the same rhythm without him demonstrating it for me.
“Yeah! Look at you!”
“Is this right?” I asked, suddenly feeling awkward.
“One hundred percent,” he said. “I’m really impressed.”
Mission accomplished.
Ben went over some of the other basic skills, and I started to feel more comfortable in the skates.
He slowed down until he was beside me again and we fell back in step. “Now let’s crank up the heat. Show me what ya got. Ready?”
For a couple of seconds it looked like he was running on his toes picks since he was in regular skates that actually had them, thenthe next thing I knew he was half the rink away from me. I could see Neil laughing so I took the bait and chased after Ben.
I was fast but obviously not as fast as him. I put up a decent if awkward fight until he slowed down for me.
“Mythighs,” I straightened up and glided beside him. “How am I feeling it already?”
“Yeah, it’s an anatomically uncomfortable sport. You get used to it. Sort of.”
“So are we racing or what?” I asked him.
His eyes went wide. “Hold up. You really want more smoke after what I just did to you?”
I hitched a shoulder. “Why not? I think you might be rusty now, old man.”
“Whoo-hoo,” Ben said and turned in a circle, addressing an imaginary audience. “She’s trash talking! I was trying to be nice to you but not anymore. We’re doing this.”
He quickly described start position and the takeoff to me and we lined up side by side. Neil acted as our official.
“Go to the start,” Neil called out. “Ready.”
We lowered ourselves into the deep squat.
“Go!”
