During my spring break, I was in a figure skating competition at the University of Delaware. The competition was important to me; I’ve been skating since I was eight years old. Though it would be much easier for me to stop skating and do something else with my free time, an unexplainable feeling keeps me practicing. No matter how hard it is, I love skating.
At the competition I came in eighth place . . . out of eight skaters. I wish I could blame my poor placement on a lack of practice or other distractions. But the truth is, I practice a lot, I was focused and I take my skating very seriously.
I know what my errors were, but I couldn’t help wondering after I skated, “Is there any point? Am I even capable of improving?” I work hard everyday, but sometimes a lack of progress can be discouraging. Of course, competitive skating was enjoyable, but it is hard to not be emotionally affected by a disheartening result.
Now, I fear that I may never improve to become the skater that I dream of being. It is a challenge for me to work constantly on my double Salchow jump and grapple with the same errors. Being the perfectionist that I am, I put in time every week on and off the ice practicing my skills, so naturally I should improve. But alas, sometimes progress is slow and that is hard for me to handle.
I don’t skate for competitive glory or other outward motivators. However, these factors seem to affect much of my experience with the sport. I know I shouldn’t take these setbacks in skating so personally. But the truth is, I feel a strong emotional attachment to the sport. Since skating is such a part of me, these feelings are inevitable.
I wish I could improve faster, but I must learn to be patient and not compare myself to others. Unfortunately, the very nature of this sport is one that encourages comparison and competition.
It is my nature is to take tasks seriously. My dedication and focus bring me success, but they also bring a great amount of stress and discouragement. One day I hope all the outward emotional clutter involved in my sport will no longer affect me. Being on a sheet of ice is an experience like no other, and if I can remember the essence of why I skate and forget the stress, I will have once again found my truth in this sport. All you need is ice and skates. Competitions will come and go, but if you can remember why you started skating, nothing else matters.
Maria Gellepes is a senior in the College of Arts and Sciences and a weekly columnist for The Daily Free Press. She can be reached at mg887@bu.edu.
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