Sunday, February 27, 2011

Spazz on Ice


Figure skaters strive for fluidity on the ice.  Although some people are intrinsically graceful, poise and polish stem from learned skills. Like dancers, skaters practice posture, edges, and any number of balance exercises to create the impression of seamless flow when they move. The goal is to make all these difficult elements look effortless.

With some notable exceptions, most adult figure skaters do not look graceful. In fact, many of us look like giraffes on roller skates.  A big problem for adults is that our brains are not the same as kids. Children have growing, developing brains. Skating becomes part of their hard-wiring. That’s why when you ask someone who skated as a child how to do something, they’ll look at you blankly and shrug, “I dunno, I just do it.”

For adults skating skills are more like software. Our brains are forced to draw on analogous capabilities we’ve already developed—walking, dancing, skiing, or in my case,  spazzercise ( a cross between hip hop and disco dancing that’s performed only in dark, private places).

These little body quirks and tics elicit little notice in your day-to-day life. You’ve grown accustomed to moving your body in certain ways without attracting notice, or worse, criticism. Suddenly, when you hit the ice, harmless little quirks and tics become Tourrette’s –style disadvantages. Not only do these bodily idiosyncrasies impede your ability to do certain figure skating elements, they also make you look…weird.

I have a difficult time controlling my right shoulder and arm. I tend to drop the right side of my body on everything, but especially on spin entries, salchows, and RI mohawks.  It seems so minor and easy to correct but for some strange reason, I have to use all my power of concentration to keep my right arm level. I always thought my right arm was connected to my body, but figure skating has taught me that it is an arm-shaped semi-sentient alien that has latched itself to my shoulder. I’ve begun to mutter to it, “Stop doing that!”

If you’re feeling especially masochistic go ahead and video yourself. I don’t know how many times I’ve felt great about something and then watched, with horror, how spastic, clunky, and aberrant I appear. Of course, it is difficult to see yourself and remain objective, but watching myself on video is pure torture. In fact, I can’t look if the video is taken before a competition or test. If I do, my confidence is completely obliterated.

At the same time, figure skating has vastly improved my off-ice spazziness. I can now walk up stairs without leaning violently to the right (a life-long problem that led to some near fatal falls). I now possess the ability to stand and even hop on one leg.  

Hmmmm. Actually my spazzy body serves me well in figure skating. Just think: spazzes are accustomed to falling, and I’ve been falling since childhood. It is hard-wired into my brain!


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