SPEED SKATING: THE LONG AND THE SHORT OF IT
My laptop has been irritating me lately. There is a slideshow of photos that appear running through past outdoor adventures, family, friends, world travels and moments passed that always give me a sense of contentment. Until now. To be specific, there happens to be one picture that is currently annoying me. I see myself smiling, laughing, crying; behind me is the massive scoreboard with ‘Clara Hughes, Olympic Champion and Gold Medalist’ beaming bright in the Lingotto Oval. The reason these photos are irritating me is because I feel so far away from being that good on the ice. They are a cruel reminder of what I once was capable of achieving: skating well.
You see, lately I have been skating poorly. I’m struggling. Each lap has been torturous. There is a frustrating inefficiency making the effort of each stride more than it needs to be. An inefficiency that is failing to propel me forward like I should be. Instead of the easy speed that makes skating such a joy, I feel like there is a wagon behind me that I am pulling on every lap. Making matters worse is that I feel like that wagon is loaded with the weight of fatigue. This has been going on for about a month now. I’d convince myself this is happening because of my current state of exhaustion from training so hard except that I have the experience of having had bad technique for the ENTIRE last season.
Because of last years’ ordeal, I find myself critical of each and every sensation, good and bad, in the pursuit of finding good technique. There is the constant focus on specific elements of technique. Each and every lap in training is timed, and that time must be within 2/10’s of a second from what my coach’s program orders. Sessions on the ice can consist of up to 70 laps. Each stride is critiqued from a technical standpoint by my coach. Every time I pass by her she yells out either my inefficiencies or tips for improvement. I like the constant feedback, especially when things are not going well, because I am always wanting to improve.
At times though, it is enough to make a person crazy. Which is the state of mind I am fast approaching. I’ve hit the wall. And it is time to stop running head first into that brick wall over and over again. Time to stop grinding myself into the ground. I need a change. A new approach.
This was exactly how I was feeling late last week when I realized what I really needed was to step onto the ice and just let myself skate. No lap times, no program; nothing but the simplicity of allowing myself to feel the freedom of movement. To let go of the constant self-instructions that has been causing this robotic, inefficient technique to overwhelm me. I know from my training on the bike and the in the weight room that I am stronger than ever before and the only thing missing was letting this fitness benefit me in skating.
Two days of this ‘non-regime’ regime, and I was already feeling like a speed skater again. To enhance this idea of letting go of tiresome self-critique, I stepped onto the rink within the rink at the Olympic Oval in Calgary- and onto some short track skates!
Just yesterday, I skated another session on the short track and had a breakthrough. After an hour and a half of drills and relays, the session was technically over, but we still had another twenty minutes of ice. If we wanted it. I decided to stay on and just skate. After a few laps, I had the feeling that had eluded me thus far this year. I had the feeling I get in my best 5000m races, the same feeling I had while time trialing on the bike: the feeling that I could go forever. I did not want to stop.
There I was, skating around and around and absolutely loving it. When I finally did stand up, the two short track coaches helping me came over. They said they couldn’t believe I was able to put all of their technical advice into my skating, that I had actually listened and had the focus to apply each element. I’m not saying I would have been able to keep up with Kalyna Roberge, or any of the short track super stars. I’m talking about efficiency and freedom of movement at a slow pace.
What I felt and I think what these coaches saw was quite simply a joy of movement. I felt happy skating and felt all the strength and fitness I’ve already worked months to achieve flow into my skating. I think it took letting go of what I’ve been pushing myself to reach in training that allowed me to connect again with the simplicity of movement.
Now, I just have to let this seep back into the long track. Then I can look at photos from the Turin Games with a smile. And maybe, just maybe, I can begin to believe I just might get to Vancouver in 136 days or so with a chance to let the beautiful flow happen through me.
If I can feel this on February 24th, this will all be worth it. Whatever the result may be.
