EMMIE
“One more time,” Marcy, my coach, called out from the bleachers. I gave a short nod, trying to catch my breath. The sound of my blades cutting across the ice echoed in my ears as I skated to the other side of the rink again.
My legs felt like jelly, but I forced myself to make the pass one more time. I needed to make it absolutely perfect before the next competition in a month. It was nearly there but needed just a little more height.
With a deep breath, I powered through the exhaustion and picked up speed. It was like second nature moving across the ice, readying my body to do a triple axel. Turning my body so I was facing backward, I moved onto one leg seconds before pushing my other toe pick into the ice, launching myself skyward.
It was like I was suspended in the air for minutes rather than seconds as I forced my body to twist, the law of physics trying to push me back down.
It was over in a matter of seconds. As I came down, I landed on one skate, the other one extending behind me as my arms fanned out to the sides. Not a part of my bodywobbled as I finished out the jump. A grin took over my face. That was the best one yet.
“Good!” Mary clapped, a smile forming on her lips. With my hands on my hips, I skated toward her. While I was sweating in my leggings and crop top, my coach was bundled in her puffer jacket on the sidelines.
“Best one you’ve landed. Next time, I think we can work on extending your arms above your head.” I could practically see the gears turning in her mind for our next practice. Marcy Quinn has been by my side since the moment I put on a pair of skates and decided I was going to be an Olympic ice skater.
She’s been here for every fall, competition, and emotional breakdown. Pretty sure I wouldn’t be here without her and her guidance. Having a coach that believes in you with their whole heart is worth more than anything else.
“Cool down and make sure to stretch later to keep those muscles loose,” Marcy instructed. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Monday? That’s too far—” I started to say, but the glare she sent my way snapped my lips shut.
“Emmie, you have been on the ice everyday since last Wednesday. You need a break.”
“But the competition is in a month.”
“I know, but you won’t win if you overexert yourself. The last thing we want is for you to injure yourself.” The tone of her voice left no room for argument. “It’s Wednesday, go out with your friends and enjoy your long weekend.”
I wanted to argue and demand that we have practice tomorrow. If I wanted any chance of winning then I needed all the help I could get. I wasn’t getting younger. At twenty-five, I was considered old for my sport.
While I wanted to argue, I knew it was futile. Marcy wouldn’t budge, and I knew she was right. Which I hated to admit. I’ve been pushing myself the last few weeks nonstopthat I was bound to burn out if I kept it up. Maybe a long weekend was needed.
Marcy stared at me until I let out a big sigh.
“Fine. I will.”
“Good. I’ll see you in a few days.” With one last firm look, she turned on her heel and walked off.
Even though I only had about ten minutes left of ice time, I didn’t want to leave. Being on the ice was like being home. The cold, the sound of my blades cutting through it… It was my favorite thing in the world.
With my limited time, I grabbed my phone on the sideboards and scrolled through my music playlist. Finding a song, I turned the sound all the way up on speakerphone before moving back onto the center ice. I slowly skated, letting the music fill my ears and body.
I loved when it was just me and the music. My legs moved on their own as I danced, throwing in little jumps and twirls. It was moments like this that reinforced my love for skating.
It could be hard keeping the same amount of love for the sport when it’s always about technique and form and competitions. You have to find moments where it’s just you on the ice without a care.
The ringing of my phone paused the music and forced me to spin to a stop in the middle of the rink. The familiar ringtone had me skating back toward the boards. I didn’t even have to look at the screen to know who was calling.
“Hey, E,” I answered. With my time at the rink over, I stepped off the ice onto the carpet.
“Please tell me you’re done with practice because I’m starving,” my best friend, Erin Richardson, whined. I laughed under my breath as I walked toward the bench that held my bag and shoes. I knew how Erin could get when she was hungry.
“I’m just packing up now.” I sat on the bench and started to unlace my skates.
“Good, because I’m outside.”
Even though she couldn’t see me, I shook my head with a snort. I wasn’t surprised.
“I’ll be out in a second.” Ending the call, I quickly put my blade protectors on and slid my skates in my bag. I threw on a pair of running shoes before gathering my stuff. I knew better than to make Erin wait. If I took any longer, she’d either start honking the horn or come marching in to drag my ass out of the rink. Both have happened in the past.
