I heard the youth in our ward/congregation were going ice skating tonight. My youngest is in that age group, and I thought I remembered him liking to skate. We asked him if he'd like to go. He said he would. I asked if I could tag along and was told that would be okay.
I was excited. I don't know how often I skated as a kid, but I remembered being able to skate--not amazingly well--but good enough to glide across the ice, skate backwards, even go fast. I remember a few years back I returned to the slopes after not having skied in over a decade. I was worried then I'd have forgotten how to ski. On the first run it all came back and I had a blast, even after all those years.
I thought ice skating would be the same.
I was wrong.
I went with my thirteen-year old son. He's only been a few times. He started out and hugged the edge of the rink to get going. I took one step on the ice and realized immediately, unlike skiing, this particular skill was not going to return quite so quickly.
When I first stepped onto the ice, I struggled to get move. When I'd traveled around half the rink, I sat in the penalty box and tightened up my laces. That helped. I went back out there and took my time, got used to how it felt to have two thin metal blades separating my body from a rock-hard sheet of ice and push myself forward.
It took a while, but I was able to circle the rink without the assistance of the sides. I admit, by the end of tonight's adventure, some of what I could do way back when returned. I think if I went to the rink a couple of times a week, those long-lost skills might come back--not to where they were, but maybe close. Yes, when I returned to a mountain on two skis, it came back quickly. Tonight, not so much. That's okay--I had a blast anyway.