“Triple?” I asked, breathing heavy from doing the twist three times already.
“Triple,” Marcy confirmed.
I gave a nod and headed back to the other side of the rink. If Marcy asked me to do something, I would, without a doubt, do exactly that, even if I was tired or frustrated. I didn’t get to where I was without being pushed to my absolute limit.
Taking a deep breath, I steadied my body before starting the pass again. My skates cut through the ice with ease, the sound of my breathing echoing through my ears. Unlike other axels, this one was a forward facing jump.
With my front facing forward, I needed to push off with my front skate, twist, and then land backward on my opposite foot. It was probably the most difficult jump in figure skating, and I had three in my routine. If I managed to land all of them perfectly, I’d be the only skater to have done it.
At the halfway point, I breathed in and held my core. Then I angled my right skate to the side and pushed off my toe pick. Like Marcy instructed, I dug it into the ice harder than before, forcing my body into the air, arms extended above my head.
The jump only lasted seconds as I twisted three times before landing back on the ice on my left foot. My arms snapped out to steady my momentum as I glided out of the triple axel.
Marcy clapped. “Beautiful.”
I skated over to her, hands on my hips, a beaming smile on my face.
“Remember, when you land on your left skate, keep your knee turned inward to level out your blade.” Marcy angled her own skate to show me. “Keep those arms extended until you get into the camel spin.”
While Marcy gave a few more tips, I downed water and grabbed my gloves. I knew what she was going to say before she did.
“Let’s run through the routine with full music but don’t do any more triples, just a single jump where they go. I don’t want your legs to give out.”
Before I could open my mouth and respond, Marcy skated past me and exited the ice.
“Woo, fun,” I mumbled.
“What was that?” Marcy called over her shoulder.
“Nothing!” Just because I did everything she asked of me didn’t mean I couldn’t complain a little about it in the process.
“That’s what I thought.”
Grumbling under my breath about her having ears like a hawk, I skated to the middle of the rink. I swear she could hear every little thing, even when she was far away. Growingup, I got away with little when Marcy was around. She saw and heard everything. I would be hanging out with other skaters and they’d mention going out somewhere after the first day of competition, and instantly, Marcy was there to nip it in the bud.
At the time, I hated it, but now with four medals under my belt, I understood why she was, and still is, strict.
“Ready?” she called from the other side of the boards. Sending a thumbs-up in her direction, I got in my start position. Toe pick to the ice, my body twisted with one arm wrapped around my stomach and the other on my shoulder.
I cleared my head with closed eyes, ready to immerse myself in the soundtrack I picked for my routine. The moment the beginning piano toHamilton’s“Wait For It”started, my eyes snapped open.
For the next two and a half minutes, everything else but me, the ice, and the music disappeared. My favorite part of skating was losing myself in the music. Letting the lyrics and beats seep into my body and take over, making nothing else matter.
When it came to picking out the song for my routine, Marcy always let me take the reins. When I was younger, she had to approve it and keep it within regulations. Over the years, the type of music allowed changed, so there was more freedom in selection. Six years ago, I wouldn’t have been able to useHamiltonor lyrics, for that matter.
Since this year was more than likely my last, I wanted to pick something that fit where I was now. Something that showed that I was here to win.IfI made it back to the Olympics next year, I’d probably change the song and routine, but for now, this was by far my favorite on both accounts.
I slid across the ice on my knees as the final notes played,stopping at the same time the song ended. Hand draped across my face, I stayed there with my chest heaving.
“Good.” Marcy clapped, the sound echoing through the now silent rink.
Sitting back on my heels with my hands on my thighs, I tried to catch my breath. Skating on ice was anything but easy. My lungs burned from the nonstop movement and twisting for three minutes straight. Even after doing it for years, my body still ached and burned.
Getting to my feet, I slowly skated around the rink, giving myself a few minutes to cool down. Come competition time, I’d feel like this to the max. Sometimes the adrenaline highs were the hardest to come down from.
Once my breathing calmed down, I made my way back to Marcy. As I neared, she gave me a nod of approval, which meant a lot coming from her.
“You’re ready for regionals in a few weeks. We’ll move to practice three times a week now, but I want you to keep up on your stretching,” she instructed.
