Seduced by Ice - Part I

One Friday evening in early June, Goalie Husband and I were trying to come up with something to do to occupy the time suddenly left open by the end of the NHL season. Since our minds were on hockey, we came up with the idea of going ice skating. We called our teammate and buddy #14, and decided to meet at a local rink for public skating. It had been a long time since any of us had been on ice skates, so we figured it would be entertaining at the very least.

Goalie Husband and I arrived at the rink about 10 minutes early, and discovered that there was a game going on the first ice surface. I immediately planted myself at the viewing window at the end of the ice surface, to watch the goalie. But as soon as I saw tell-tale ponytails hanging out of the backs of helmets, my interest piqued considerably. It turned out it was a women's hockey tournament, with teams from all over the country. Since we were standing around waiting anyway, we decided to go in and watch from the inside, in a spot where #14 would see us when he arrived. Conveniently, that spot turned out to be just to the right of the home team's goalie.

I remember him arriving, and us moving to seats in the bleachers, but I don't remember actually being part of the decision to stay and watch the game instead of skating on the other surface. I just remember being totally transfixed. You'd have thought it was the first hockey game I ever watched in person. While that wasn't the case, it was the first game I'd been to that was so... accessible. There it was, right in front of me, women my age, playing hockey! I don't remember if there was any conversation going on between the three of us. I just remember watching so intently that I actually stood up to watch them as they left the ice to return to the locker rooms. "No, you can't go with them," #14 quipped.

I had the same assumptions about playing on ice that I had about playing at all; I'd love to do it, but there were too many reasons why I couldn't. But watching that game ignited a fire in me that started a slow burn. I wanted to play on ice. I had to figure out how to do it, and I knew it would take a while to transition, but that was where my heart was. Any time we'd ever gone into a rink for a public skate, or any reason at all, I felt the yearning to play like a pain in my chest. I always assumed it was too late for me to start, too expensive, etc. It was for everyone else except me. But after a few months of getting a taste of the sport on wheels, I wanted to go that one step further and have the slick surface of ice beneath my feet.

For the rest of the week it was all I thought about. Eventually practicality took over and I realized that I would have to be patient- I would play on ice someday, but there were too many things to consider to jump into it instantly. The biggest hurdle was my equipment. My leg pads were so torn and shoddy from playing on pavement that they'd soak up water instantly and be unbearably heavy (and home to hosts of molds and mildews). My glove and blocker weren't solid enough to stand up to ice pucks. And I didn't have goalie skates. So the first step would be to gradually re-outfit myself with some ice quality gear. Then I'd have to find a way to learn the trade all over again. But once I decided I could/would do it, and just accepted that it would take time, I was fine. By now I was playing two or three roller games a week, scrambling up the learning curve and enjoying every minute of it. The ice would still be there when I was ready, it wasn't going anywhere.