My feet glide across the smooth, slick ice, the skates on my feet slowly wearing into the freshly cleaned rink. Suddenly my foot catches in a grove and I'm falling onto the cold, unforgiving ground while sliding ever so slightly. After banging my cold hand on the ground in frustration, I push myself up onto my bruised knees and then to my feet. As I skate to the nearest bench, angry tears well in my eyes. Quickly wiping them away, I sit down and wipe the ice buildup off the blades. Untying the long blue laces, I pull up the purple fuzzy socks that adorn my feet. “You were doing well my sister says, sitting down next to me. “I fell again,” I groan. “You're getting better though. In a couple months you won't be falling at all.” “I wish I wasn't falling now,” I say with an eye roll. “Practice makes perfect. Come on,” she says trying to pull me back out onto the devil's latest masterpiece. “I'd rather not. My feet are getting blisters and my fingers are frozen.” “Fine, but we’re probably leaving in a half hour or so,” she replies gliding effortlessly back onto the ice. …show more content…
Ever so slowly I place one shaky foot out onto the slippery ice while clutching the rail. Quickly pulling my other foot out for balance, I begin slowly skating with my hand grazing the wall. Picking up speed, I pull away from the wall avoiding the stupid teenagers who are taking pictures. Rolling my eyes, I go more towards the middle of the rink with my arms slightly outstretched for balance. Watching out for the people around me, I glimpse friends laughing while one tries to teach another to skate. A small smile spreads across my face as I roll my shoulders and take a deep breath. I push off slowly at first but quickly gain speed as I find my balance. No longer are my skates getting stuck in groves as I stop focusing so much on the movement of my
Success is not given, it is earned. Waking up for a 5am skating practice is nobody’s ideal Wednesday morning, especially for a hormonal teenager like myself. However, satisfaction of landing a new jump or learning a new spin does not come from letting our ‘wants’ buyout our dreams. “By the time we’d finished, we were amazed at how much the book had taught us: about ourselves.” I don’t always succeed, nor do I always expect to. Throughout all the morning practices and late night workouts, failure is something I have learned from. I remember giving up on myself countless times after falling on a jump or not turning my edges properly, as if I had ‘writer's-block,’ feeling completely numb. Nevertheless, succeeding was the easy part, it was learning to grow into the 6 year old singing, confident, child again, and defeating the numbness. I have learned, along the way, people are going to try to undercut your success or take credit for your hard work. However, it is the end product that matters. It will be I who knows how to complete a program, or I who knows how to work hard. Staying focused as the athlete I am, not letting people side track me, builds the confidence to know ‘I finished the
After being mesmerized by figure skating at the age of eight, I became a member of the Markham Skating Club. As a competitive figure skater, I must perform various jumps and spins in a choreographed program. I have participated in numerous competitions in Central Ontario and have received multiple medals for my achievements. Yet, my achievement as a figure skater stem from the adversity that I faced throughout my skating journey. This sport has imposed challenges to both my mental and physical strength that have ultimately constructed the qualities of dedication and humility within myself.
James Balog states in the beginning of his extraordinary film that the most powerful interaction known is between mankind and nature. We are surrounded by endangered wildlife and we are the cause of the endangerment. Chasing Ice is such an eye-opening film that demonstrates how powerful climate change is. Setting up multiple cameras in Iceland, Greenland, Alaska, and Montana results in shocking imagery of the disappearance of glaciers. The imagery that is captured is beautifully terrifying that offers the evidence of greenhouse gases destroying our planet.
I was so hyped that I finally learned Snowboarding. After all those years only going on small hills on my heel edge, I finally was doing toe edge. We went up the hill for a couple of more runs and just like you already know we got on the chairlift and put on our bindings once we got off. We went all the way to the right side of the hill and snowboarded down it. While I was going down my board hit a small ice ball and my board caught an edge and I landed hard on my board. If you were me in this exact situation I could tell you it hurt alot! Image getting kicked really really hard by someone now imagine that hundred times harder, that was the pain I was in. Max came up beside me and asked if I was ok. I looked at him and said “ my butt hurts so much” After a couple of minutes sitting there we got up and went down to hill. I looked at the clock and realized it was closing time. I went did a fist bump with Max and went home. Now you just read my narrative of me overcoming snowboarding and I can tell you I was so proud of myself. I succeeded because I had the determination to do
It is 6:25 in the morning. The outside is still pitch black; there is no hint of sunlight coming through the curtain. It will be hours before sunrise. I can barely see my fingers in front of my face.
The smell at Tim Horton’s has always set me off. There is something about that blend of coffee and chemicals from the cleaning products that makes me want to leave the place as soon as I get there. Tim Horton’s is unfortunately Nicolas’ favorite place in Saint-Bruno. It’s also the only place opened after 10 pm, so I can’t suggest hanging out somewhere else.
How long had it been now? Days, weeks, months? There was simply no telling as it felt just like yesterday when I last stood here. The clouds above oozed and wafted the sun, casting a shadowy darkness onto the house in the distance.
When most people hear the word hockey, they think about skating, ice, and a puck. What most people do not think about is running, the blistering heat, and a small orange ball, however, I do. That is because I play dek hockey, not ice, meaning that we run, and our season is never over. Playing hockey is my favorite thing to do, and I have so many fond memories. Some of those memories are, playing hockey at Bill’s Golfland, U.S.A. Ball Hockey Tryouts, and playing at Penn Hills Dek Hockey.
When I was about ¼ of the way there I saw a person fall over. The ice made a cracking noise and everyone ran away trying not to break the ice any more than it was. I started sliding down the ice when I slipped. Another cracking noise. I quickly got up and noticed that I was almost there I was almost
Walking in those familiar doors was the most terrific part of my day, no matter if it was a bright and early 6am practice or a late into the evening game. As soon as I entered the rink my favorite scent was all around me. It was the kind of perfect smell you cannot put into exact words, but it was a mix of something like ice, rubber and the sweaty socks of kids full of determination. The atmosphere was always the same there, full of excitement and anticipation. Growing up the rink was my happy place, I could always depend on it to be freezing cold, just the way I like it. Skating on the ice was an entirely different world. The boards were bright and clean, the benches were so huge I could barely see over them! The ice
“Clang!” Wheels hitting the pavement. Rolling through the streets like I’m Tony Hawk. ON such nice sunny day, I chose to skate and escape reality for a little. Popping some kickflips down the street.
I intend to show how street skating has different beliefs and values, norms and rules, and rituals and traditions that shape this distinct culture. Street skating has had a negative label attached to it for a long time. It has always had an outsider stigma attached to the culture. Most outsiders see them as trouble or rebellious. Most in the culture embrace this sort of outsider image.
Hockey. A sport I have always loved ever since I was a kid. It was when my dad had taken me to an open ice skate when my hockey life began. I had my first pair of skates as a present when I was four years old. I never really knew of the sport at the time, but now I was able to expirence it. No one was present on the ice as I entered the rink. The cold of the ice ran down my back as I took my first steps on. The cold didn’t stop me though. As I stepped upon the ice, I had a feeling of relief. Hockey is what let me go fast. Always have I been the fastest kid in my class and hockey let me expand on what I loved to do. One stride at a time I went, until I was able to glide upon the ice. My blades of my skates sunk into the ice like a lion tearing at its prey. As the frost beat against my face, I soon realized that I was able to skate. Even though it was all fuzzy in my memory, I remember feeling all types of joy rush all throughout my body. It was the first sign of potential in hockey. It was a first omen.
As I entered the building which housed the rink, the warm, nostalgic scent of popcorn hit that part of my brain where dusty, cobwebbed memories live, memories of my own adolescence. I made my way past a group of exuberant teenagers at the snack bar until I reached the skating rink. Skinny, hard benches, made for small butts, lined one wall. I took a seat and scanned the rink. My eyes paused to read a sign; white, block letters on a black background warned, "Skate at Your Own Risk."