Coachie deserves her own special introduction since she plays an instrumental part in this blog.
First and foremost, she would HATE the nickname “Coachie.” She does not in anyway resemble a cute fuzzy bunny or anything in remotely cute. In fact, she looks quite intimidating all dressed up in her coaching outfit (and you know most coaches have some kind of fashion statement), which at times includes a giant Russian fur hat, giant parkas, and giant earmuffs. She only wears black or dark, earthy colors. She could get away with a Darth Vader cape and make it look fabulous to boot. She sports tan skates, which means she was once a professional. Her amateur competitive accomplishments leave me in awe. She has that understated cool, that implies, “Yes, I could be a Diva if I wanted to be, but I’m really too cool to bother.”
I often times feel that I am boring her.
Coachie is not Russian, though she sometimes pretends to be, such as when she says to me, “Yoo skayte like olt laydee!! Veeery olt laydee!”
Coachie takes one look at my bobbled spins or wonky jumps and makes immediate, insightful corrections.
Coachie has the ability to improve and effectively teach even the most hopeless skater; she turns caterpillars into butterflies.
Coachie’s skaters want to do well in competitions and tests because we can’t stand to let her down.
Coachie keeps a whip in her office. She doesn’t actually need to use it. We know it’s there.
Coachie never lies to you about how well or bad you’re skating. You can trust her observations.
When I passed my USFS Pre-Bronze MITF and freeskate tests, Coachie gave me a congratulations card, which she had prepared BEFORE I took the test. Awwww. Coachie has a heart of gold.
Coachie scares me sometimes, but I love her.
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