Competitive roller skater. A label I have claimed for myself. It’s not a concept familiar to many. I myself didn’t know what a competitive roller skater was until fairly recently. Now, I not only use that title as a badge of honor, but I have won medals at the US National Roller Skating Competition. What may surprise you about my skating origin story is that it only started about two years ago at the age of 25. That’s not to say that was my first time on skates, however…
When I was young, maybe around 7 or 8 years old I took roller skating lessons at a local rink. This particular rink had a small, roughly 10 foot by 30 foot, practice area off to the side of the main skating floor. I refused to leave that section; not because I loved it there, but because I was terrified of that wide open, full rink floor. It seemed like absolute chaos out there. People rolling around at different speeds and darting across the floor this way and that. There was no way. I needed to stay where it was safe. In fact, I wanted to stay so safe that my childhood skating lessons promptly ended after a few lessons.
Skip a few years ahead, I found my dad’s old roller blades. Our basement was unfinished, so I’d strap them on and skate around the small space available on the concrete floor. I’d put on my headphones and listen to music as I skated around the boxes, outgrown toys, and support beams. There was a short straightaway amongst the mess and I would see how fast I could go. I imagined I was an Olympic speed skater, leaving all the other competitors in the dust. My ability to stop matched my Olympic level speed, I came to graceful halts by running directly into the cement walls using my wrist guards as a barrier between myself and broken bones. Apollo Ohno had nothing on me.
For our 6th grade end-of-the-year celebration, we had a skating party at the aforementioned rink (my former nemesis). This time I’d brought my blades. I couldn’t lamely hide in the practice area with all of my classmates there, so I joined my friends on the main floor and we jammed to all the hits of the late 2000s–our science teacher particularly enjoyed Boom Boom Pow by the Black Eyed Peas. I had more confidence as I skated than my previous visit to the rink. All the basement skating paid off!
Despite having an absolute blast, my 11 year old brain didn’t grasp the concept of an open skate and I never asked to skate there again. The roller rink became a distant memory and I never returned to that rink. That is until 10 years later, I went with my then-boyfriend and used those same blades. The following year we went again. That second time stood out more prominently in my head. I saw people holding hands and skating to the rhythm of the music; picking their knees up high with each push, spinning, turning, kicking their legs out to accent beats. At the time I didn’t know that the particular style of skating I saw had a name–rhythm skating–but I was mesmerized! That floated around in my head for several years. I’d wanted to learn how to do it, but being a college student I didn’t have an abundance of free time to immerse myself in a new hobby.
Fast forward to 2021. A video appeared on my YouTube feed of someone strut walking on their skates–my eyes widened in awe; the smooth, slick way the skater crossed their feet in front of one another– it appeared as if they were walking forward but they were actually moving backwards. I wanted to do that. I wanted to do that. Suddenly, the memories of rollerblading around the basement resurfaced. The synchronized movements of the rhythm skaters replayed in my mind. I didn’t know it then, but that video of strut walking completely reset the course of my life.
Author strut walking in 2023.
The next few weeks, I sought out more roller skating videos. I wanted roller skates. I was hooked on the idea of roller skates. I could not get roller skates out. of. my. head. Fortunately, it was almost Christmas. So guess what went on my wish list…roller skates!
Sure I still had access to my dad’s old inlines, but I wanted roller skates. My criteria for selecting a pair of skates was as follows: design–unique; price–cheap. I needed a unique design because I tend to prefer footwear that stands out…plain white or black skates; not a fan (although I did have to get those later). And cheap because, well, we’ve all been down the road of investing too much in a hobby and not going anywhere with it. I decided on a no-name pair of bright blue skates that I thought looked sleek and had a fairly low price tag from Amazon and put them on my Christmas list.
To my delight, my Aunt gifted them to me. For whatever reason, I had it in my mind that I was going to be skating outdoors…maybe because those were the videos I’d seen. Well, living in Michigan, the snowy streets of January quickly dampened my skating aspirations. The winter weather followed by a loss in the family had kept me from skating. To occupy my skating obsessed brain, I returned to YouTube and consumed more skating content. When I listened to music, I noticed my mind placing those maneuvers to the beats and melodies of the songs. The opportunity to try out my skates couldn’t come soon enough.
In July, I finally had the chance. I sat down on the steps in the garage and excitedly laced up my skates–before realizing I had to take them off to put on the knee pads that I was not about to go anywhere without. I donned a brightly colored helmet with matching knee, wrist, and elbow pads. The skates seemed to fit fine, but I really didn’t know what I was looking for. I stepped carefully out of the garage and on to the flat surface of our driveway, where my wheel caught in between cement slabs. My heart skipped a beat before I managed to catch and stabilize myself. I turned to face the slanted part of our driveway–yikes!! “Uhh… Mom!” I shouted, panic clear in my voice. She lent me her arm which I clung to like I did as a child, however, this time she seemed equally as concerned as I accelerated towards the bottom of the driveway. I tried applying the toe stop, but keep in mind–the concept of a toe stop was brand new to me; unlike quads, inline skates have a heel stop, not to mention there weren’t any basement walls to stop me. Oh no, oh no! The street quickly approached; it wasn’t a busy street so cars weren’t the main concern, but face planting on the cement was certainly not on the agenda for the day. My mom extended her other arm in front of me so that I could brace myself better and I managed to keep my feet on the ground. We stopped just in time, avoiding disaster before I hit the gnarly lip at the end of our driveway. My mom and I both let out a big exhale.
With a few more deep breaths we stepped onto the street, the street didn’t have any of those pesky breaks between slabs like the driveway did. Thank God. However, it wasn’t as smooth as I had hoped and there were some minor hills. We worked our way up the street as I continued with my half stepping, half pushing movement. I probably look ridiculous right now. Like a giant neon sign attracting attention to the baby deer learning to walk down our street. With slow, unsteady progress, we made it to the end of the street, I felt the tension in my shoulders release just slightly. We turned around and marched back towards our driveway. Pride overcame me that I had made it back to our driveway without falling. Then I looked up the steep slope that stood between me and the house. Shit.
I quickly decided that it might be a good idea to take some lessons. Those moves I’d seen on YouTube continued to invade my mind. Despite my harrowing first attempt on skates in years, my every fiber told me to try again. There were a couple of rinks near me and I decided to sign up for group lessons after looking into what they offered. The rink I chose was the one I had taken lessons at almost twenty years before. The rink that I had refused to leave the practice area. I wanted to come full circle.
I signed up for lessons and started the following September. As the first class approached I grew nervous. The person I had spoken to on the phone at the rink had assured me that parents took the lessons with their kids all the time. Yet, I couldn’t help but worry that I would be the only adult in a sea of small children. Not to mention I didn’t have a child…would it be weird if I just showed up by myself? I wanted to skate though, and that fear was not going to stop me.
When I walked into the rink that day, the excitement boiled under my skin, the anxiousness had also morphed into oh my god what am I doing? Is this a good idea? Fortunately, there was another woman (without a kid) who was signing up for the class. At least I wouldn’t be the lone adult.
I put my skates on and suited up with knee, wrist, and elbow pads; prepared for the worst. I waited with mixed emotions to head out on the floor. Finally, the coach announced over the PA, “Class skaters, please take the main skating floor.” I made my way carefully with little steps to the rink floor and started rolling. Slowly and awkwardly, but I was doing it. I was half rolling, half stepping around that big rink floor.
After a few minutes, we were instructed to line up and then take a seat on the floor as the coach introduced herself, the other coaches, and the helpers. I watched them all closely, amazed at how gracefully they moved. One of the helpers turned backwards before slamming both toe stops to the ground, coming to a smooth, quick stop. Whoa! The head coach also had one of the coaches show us a few of his skills. He had competed twice in the World Skate Championship. The skater picked up speed, turned backwards and the next thing we knew he was swinging his free leg around while jumping up, spun twice around in the air before gracefully landing on one foot, completing a double axel. My jaw dropped as the students around me exploded in applause. “Bet you didn’t know we could do that on roller skates,” she said, amused by the crowd’s reaction.
Despite the flashiness of the jump we had just seen, the coach made her expectations clear: we were to learn to skate, to have fun, and to not compare ourselves to others. That was exactly what I needed. As a recovering anxious person and someone who had only grown in self confidence recently, I knew I was in the right place with the right people.
As we got back up…to learn how to fall, a few pangs of anxiety made themselves known, the falling part wasn’t so fun. But then we learned how to stop (without using the walls as a brake), and eventually how to roll. I still felt awkward, but I focused on the movement. As the music started, I was excited that I was actually rolling a little. Yay!
After we rolled around for a while, we learned our first skill. Since I was brand new to the class, I had to start in Level 1. To move to the next level, there were 4 skills I had to complete, one of which was a “choo choo”. Basically squatting all the way down on your skates and rolling. The coach kindly showed us the over 20 version, where you didn’t have to squat down nearly as far. Although I was over 20 I had no issue squatting all the way down until my butt touched my skates. I even rolled a few feet before I came to a stop as my foot jutted out to the side, stopping me. Hey! That wasn’t too bad! Sure, it needed a little work but I could already do a trick on roller skates. Not long after, the coach instructed us to stop. She then had us point our toes together and begin marching to go…backwards!!! What?? I can’t go backwards! I can barely go forwards! This is insane!
But sure enough, as I started marching backwards and at an uneven pace, I slowly made progress around the floor. It was awkward, involved a lot of stopping and restarting, and definitely not pretty that day, but I did it! At the end of class, the coach enforced the rule she had for the parents. Their job was not to correct their skaters, but to tell them proudly “I love to watch you skate!” The arena erupted with the mantra. Even though I didn’t have a parent there yelling in the crowd, it created an encouraging environment for the class. As I exited the floor, I was so bummed. I wanted to keep skating. I found out that there was an open skate session right after the lesson. I made a mental note. I was definitely going to be doing that next week!
With each class I became more and more comfortable. At the end of the 5 week session was certificate day, where you found out if you advanced to the next level. As we showcased our newly-acquired skills that final week, I worried that I wouldn’t make it to the next level. I could always take the classes again to get there but I so badly wanted to make it to Level 2. I felt like I wasn’t doing the skills as well as I had before and sweat began beading on my forehead. All of the skaters lined up along one side of the floor, waiting to hear their name called. I waited as name after name was called and one skater at a time received their certificate. With each name called, the stack of certificates diminished, mirroring the amount of hope I held. I reminded myself that it was okay if I didn’t pass. Everyone learns at a different pace. I had convinced myself that I would be taking Level 1 again, when the coach called out “Nicole Saez!” I smiled down at the certificate in my hand and lined up for the photo behind the row of children. I had made it to the next level!
In between sessions I became more and more obsessed with roller skating. It was all I could think about! I watched even more skating tutorials than I had before. I’d arrive at the rink a little early so I could watch the advanced class that occurred before the beginner class. I had my sights set on that advanced class. I wanted to be there. I wanted to skate with those skaters. Learn what they were learning. I wanted to become an elegant, skilled roller skater that could turn and spiral and spin. I wanted to learn everything I possibly could. There was only one problem. I was getting stuck in Level 2.
The Full Circle Series continues…
