“EIGHT WHEELS” Memories of a Middle Aged Roller Skater By Sara McDermott

I remember the 1980’s as the decade of the jock.  Running and fitness came of age just as I hit middle age. But I take my fitness where I find it and so, at the age of 48, I re-discovered roller skating.  Not the sidewalk skating of my childhood, not speed skating around and around a track, but figure skating on wheels.  Repetitive, tooth grinding practice done on 19 foot circles painted on the floor.  Figures are the ABC’s of artistic skating, and once mastered, they translate into dance and freestyle events seen at competitive skating meets.

Now, no-one, in 1984, would have described me as athletic – not even close.  My idea of grueling physical activity was riding my bike uphill.  Add a certain amount of gawkiness and fear of competition and you have my future in roller skating.

They trained me anyway.  Well, they tried.  That must have been quite a spectacle.  All 5 feet, eleven inches of me navigating a big circle to nowhere in order to develop poise and grace while rolling along on one foot.  But what the heck!  I dived in and spent the next thirty years in various roller rinks around the mid-west.  Maybe practice didn’t make perfect, but it was a lot of fun trying.

Control is the essence of graceful skating, but control of my sedentary body came hard.  I decided early on that school figures were the devil’s revenge for my non-athletic youth.  How hard could it be, I thought, when the coach demonstrated the first technique.  “Just push yourself away and try to stay on the painted line” she said.  How hard it could be was immediately obvious to me as I came to a standstill about two feet from the starting point.  I felt like an elephant on wheels.   I wanted to leave and forget it, but it’s hard to make a grand exit with roller skates on, so I stayed and, to this day, am grateful for the benefits I gained from competitive skating.

Meets were a combination of dread  and fun, if you can put the two together.

The shy girl from Cedar Rapids was told to get out there and look the judges in the eye in order to exude confidence.  Okay!  But three people standing there with clip boards ready to record my slightest mistake did not exactly stoke my competitive fire.  It took several meets before my legs stopped shaking enough to lift my head and look anyone in the eye or anywhere else.

All figure skaters learn tricks to stay calm and trace the line.  One of my favorites came from a coach in Ames when I practiced at his rink much later.  “You want to be a good tracer?” he said.  “Keep your belly button over the line and your body will follow”.  It seemed logical to me and I often pictured my body lined up and my naval following the figure line when I competed in Ladies Figures at invitational meets.

Time passed and progress came slow, but I began to enjoy the challenge;  the early morning events that tested my dedication to the sport, the fun of having my club mates cheer me on through a dance routine, the feeling of accomplishment in getting through it, and finally realizing that, win or lose, I was enriching my life through physical and mental discipline.

Skate club members become good friends even while competing with each other.  You can’t hold a grudge against people you see every week.  It would be too exhausting.

Over the years I have made lifelong friends and seen accomplished skaters executing elegant dances with seemingly perfect techniques.

I never reached elegant in my skating.  I didn’t move above the standard forward figures when I competed, and I never tore up the floor in dance, but I had a great time.  I had never been a dancer so it came hard, but I have tasted sheer joy.  I have skated to perfectly timed music on choreographed dance patterns.   I loved the freedom of moving around and around the length and width of a skating floor,  just me and the music and my eight wheels.