Spin Control ;-)

There are so many ways to explain why I feel like a winner today (and several reasons why, technically speaking, I'm not. ;-)

*You could say, for example, that I'm currently sixth in the nation in my age and division.
(Out of six competitors. ;-)
*You could say, for example, that at one point I was in second place.
(I skated second, so that ranking lasted about twelve minutes, total.)
*You could say, for example, that I posted the second highest choreographic component score.
(And the lowest technical difficulty score. ;-)
*You could note that I made it through my entire program and had enough stuff left to bow nicely at the end--without barfing or fainting.
(Although I skipped a jump, knowing I wasn't in the running, and seeing as I then became really committed to the idea of not biffing in front of the video camera, so that, at my post-competition party back home in a few weeks, guests watching the DVD will not be required to feel really sorry for the hostess. "Look! At least she didn't fall!" ;-)
*You could say that my worst nightmare, blanking out in the middle of my routine and forgetting what came next--which actually happened to me once!--never materialized.
(Not even close. I was oh-so aware of every single second of impending peril ahead...)
*You could say that I hold in my heart the things that several of my co-competitors and a few audience members troubled themselves to tell me--something like, your edging is amazing, you're so quiet on the ice, it's like watching a whisper perform, your grace was so inspiring, you epitomize the joy and beauty of skating. You were beautiful out there, and I'm proud you're my wife. (Thank you, thank you!)


This year, my division (novice) was combined with the skill division above it (junior)--such combinations occur at the referee's discretion when too few entrants register. This meant I was competing against several very good skaters with a lot of experience at this competition and a repertoire of double and combination jumps I've never had. The age span for the group was 46 to 52--I was in fact, the oldest--Nina, a little older than I, had to withdraw this morning, owing to an injury, so sad--brave lady! All that having been said I was also more delighted to be that seasoned and healthy and happy woman than I could possibly have imagined.

And there's always next year.

And the year after, and after, god willing.

Special affection for my rink-mother, Marcia Richards, a retired physician who "put me out" at the competition, as they say in skating lingo--smiling and hugging, telling me I was going to have a wonderful time, holding my skate guards, picking up my dirty Kleenex on the rail. She was the one who first suggested I compete in this event. She skated her first event yesterday (we'll post some images soon) and was showered with gifts tossed onto the ice afterward, having missed last year's competion while healing from knee surgery--on both knees. Wow. She's beloved, around here in her age and division--a worthy mentor in every way.

Huge valentines to my skating coach, Stephanie Grosscup, and to my Pilates coach, Rebecca Keene Forde, who patientely refined and rebuilt, well, everything that was left, and then added a good portion of determination and belief to it, in just three years.

And to my husband--the wind under my wings--much love and gratitude for sharing this adventure.

The week's reports continue with posts about our impressions and activities on Friday and Saturday.

Love,
Dawn