Before the U.S. presidential elections, after waking, I was in the habit of checking the previous night’s monologues by the late-night trio of hosts — Stephen Colbert, Jimmy Kimmel and Seth Meyers. Still cozy beneath the covers, I lay chuckling at their monologues taken from the news about the election’s lunacy and hashed up into palatable morsels. More importantly, it allowed each day to begin with laughter or, at the very least, a wry smile.
Following the U.S. presidential election and the circus that has unfolded like a massive, gloomy tent, I’ve lost my appetite for political satire and the angst that laces every monologue like an ill-concealed line of strychnine. No matter how much the poison is applied, it’s not enough to kill the dread over what’s coming. So, I stopped watching my ‘morning after’ monologues. But I still need something to start my day.
YouTube recaps of ice skating competitions have saved me.
I have been a devoted fan of figure skating since I was young. It began by following the men’s and women’s competitions. In those days executing a triple axel was a celebratory event, the most exciting feat on ice. Interestingly enough, the first triple axel landed in competition was by a Canadian woman, Vern Taylor, at the 1978 World Championships. Canadian Brian Orser was the first man to land the jump at the Sarajevo Olympics in 1984. The exacting artistry of these feats in competitions progressed but soon it became all about the jumps, or so it seemed to me. I was losing interest. Until Torvill and Dean.
During those same 1984 Winter Olympic games, the ice was instantly transformed into a glistening stage for a balletic interpretation of Ravel’s Bolero. Jane Torvill was the cape and Christopher Dean, the matador. It was mesmerizing and I still get chills watching it all these years later. What they did differently, aside from their innovative lifts and improvised movements, was use a single piece of music to create a mood, to tell a captivating story. And who amongst us does not love a good story?
In 1984, I became a devoted fan of ice dancing, followed not long after when I developed a passion for pairs skating. In 1994, petite Canadian Isabelle Brasseur and her head-taller partner, Lloyd Eisler won Olympic Gold. Their performance was breathtaking.
Watching the flexibility and grace of these teams as they transverse the ice, taking their lumps when they fall but getting right back up and most often, resuming where they left off. I love the nimble movements, the clever transitions, step sequences that look so easy (but are not), the way the two must harmonize with each other—and always with the music. Most of all, I am dazzled by the sheer tenacity of these skaters, true artists like Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir who together earned three gold and two silver Olympic medals in their career.
They spend endless hours learning the choreography, the lifts and sequences, and where the pairs are concerned, the jumps and throws. The synchronization required, the artistry and the musculature needed to carry out a four-minute program, covering the ice from one end to the other, ever mindful of the way their blade cuts the ice, never missing a step or worse, falling down.
And yet, mistakes happen. Sometimes it’s a case of nerves or just a bad day for you or your partner. A jump goes wrong, a lift wobbles, a necessary element is bungled. There may be injuries that need time to heal or travel schedules that are brutal, fighting jet lag or a flu bug that’s going around and has caught up with a weary traveller. The season, after all, runs from July 1 to June 30, making it a 12-month commitment.
These skating teams, and competitive skaters in general, have taught me valuable life lessons. There is a moment when you have to perform, but no matter what the outcome of your efforts, you are not always a winner. Life goes on. There is always another opportunity to do better. When you fall down, you get up and keep going. Staying in the game is what is tantamount.
With that in mind, I face each new day with the hope of a better outcome.
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We face the day with hope for a better outcome. Thanks for sharing.
Those were the days of gorgeous skating; brought me back. We all need distractions in this nightmarish time. Yours is a lovely one.