So, it's been three days with a half-rink in our front yard, and Tanner has been skating for almost half the time he's been awake. He's even getting up early in the morning to get some skating in before I'm even out of bed this weekend. Clearly, building that rink was worth the struggles. And even better, he decided very quickly that he didn't want to be a goaltender. That is a lot of money saved, right there.
And he's getting better, too; he's now able to skate all the way down the rink without slowing down, and he's learning to snow-plow to stop. He wants to try the turn-stop next, which should be entertaining to watch. He's also using his stick and handling the puck on the ice, and he even lifted a few shots into the net rather than just sliding them along the ice. He's got good instincts; if he'd started younger, Tanner would be playing at a decent level by now. He's got his heart set on being a left-winger now, so he's motivated as heck.
Now, that's the 'pride' part of this post. Here comes the 'pain' part.
I don't recall how long it has been since I laced on skates. I do know that it's been quite a few years. Still, I was determined to spend time with Tanner on the ice, so I sat my butt down in the snow and tied them up. I got up and onto the ice, and it was awkward. I mean, you can tell that I haven't skated in a long, long time. I was wobbly, and while I could get myself going up to speed, stopping is once again a challenge. Fortunately, the snow is soft.
However...anyone who hasn't skated for a while and put skates back on knows exactly what happened next. And I knew it was going to happen. But it was time with my son, and it matters. But, dear Lord in heaven, did my feet ever hurt. I mean, it was like all those muscles on the bottom of my feet just went on strike and told me to go jump off a cliff. I couldn't last more than ten minutes on the ice before I had to cry 'uncle'. I took off the skates, put the sneakers back on, and went back to passing him the puck from the side.
My feet still ache, and it's been about six hours. I'm stupid, so I'm going to do it again. I know my feet will eventually adjust, but when you're fifty, things like that take time.
Anyway, the rest of the ice time was great; I even put some pucks on the ice for Tanner to use as pylons and skate around, and he's really picking it up fast. There isn't enough room for him to learn crossovers; the rink's only about fifteen feet wide of actual ice. But if he can get the hang of stopping, I'm going to get him working on sprints down the ice (it's almost sixty feet), stopping and turning back. It's a great start for power skating, and after only three days, he is well on his way. I couldn't be more proud of him. He's even doing chores when we ask him so he can get out on the ice sooner. We've finally got something that he is willing to sacrifice for.
Maybe I'll write some hockey stories for him. Or about him.
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