After the Shaxel

I used to think that I would be able to die happy if I could just jump an axel in figure skating.

The axel: one-and-a-half elusive rotations in the air that are a benchmark of technical skill. Guess what? I can jump axels now, albeit so far with a negative grade of execution in competition. While I’m proud that I’ve gotten this far, I’m nowhere near yet happy with my level. And, funnily enough, that’s actually a not-insignificant part of the fun for me. Striving for more. Celebrating successes, but always, always falling down, getting back up for more, and then falling down again in some new attempt, whether reasonable or otherwise.

I have a sneaking suspicion that this is the case for a lot of skaters, and not just figure skaters. If we were already as good at it as we wanted to be at it, maybe we wouldn’t bother showing up as often as we do. There are big goalposts and tiny ones, and we are constantly moving all of them. You can do a sit spin now? Great. Do it lower. You can do that single jump? Okay, now practice for a double.

Some of my friends have told me that this sounds like a miserable hobby. And you know what? Fair assessment. But it’s not. At least not for me, anyway. I am neither living in a state of perpetual dissatisfaction, nor am I in one of constant satisfaction. But that is the very thing: it’s not an either-or. Getting where you want does not stop you from wanting more. 

It’s not a “Yes, but”, but rather a “Yes, and.” 

Five years ago I would have killed (well, okay, no, not really killed) for an ugly axel. A shaxel, I used to call it. (I’ll let you guess what the portmanteau stands for.) And then I got a shaxel, and worked very hard to get the “sh” off the front of it. In my case, off the end, because I was under-rotating most of the ones I jumped. Now my ratio of rotated to under-rotated is better than it was, but it’s still far from perfect. Will I ever be happy with it? Yes and no. I’m still thrilled every single time I jump an axel. I feel a little moment of glee and think “Tee-hee! I’m jumping axels!” Because my childhood self dreamt it, and my 40-something year-old self is the one making that dream come true.

If that’s not bucket list material, then I don’t know what is.
So, what do I think would happen if I suddenly had all of the skating skills, elements and tricks I ever wanted? Suppose I could jump triple axels (hey, we’re supposing here, that’s all). Or, I could do 20 cones of toe sevens in freestyle slalom. Or be able to cruise confidently in any skate park, pump track, half pipe, what have you. What would I do? 

Well, I suppose I’d take a video or thousand, and make everyone I know watch. And then I’d just…find something else to work on. I’d try to jump in the other direction, or in combination in a way I never tried before. In freestyle slalom, I’d work on backwards sevens and then try to perfect the transition between forwards and backwards. 

And then I’d go to a competition to show everyone what I could do.  

Of course, I am living in the real world where I’m still working on a better single axel instead of jumping triples. And I’m fine showing up knowing that I still need improvements. 

“This is where I am now” is my goal in competition, not “Let me show you where I want to be.” 

The improvements will come. That’s what the practice and coaching are for. And when I achieve one goal, I will set the next one, and then the one after that. I will never arrive.

Never arriving means I’m never finished. 

And that’s a beautiful thing.