Nobody does what I do out here. Out here on this warm, soft, forgiving mall ice in the Pacific Northwest, freestyling on hockey blades while figure skaters half or one third or even a quarter my age bounce and twirl and ricochet like pinballs around the rink.
In the beginning no one understood my motivation. "Why are you doing that in hockey skates?"
"It's a thing," I insist. It is. It's a thing everywhere east of here. It's a thing on the East Coast, it's a thing across the pond, a thing into the Scandinavian Northlands and a thing across the EU. It's a thing in Russia, and it's a thing halfway back into the Pacific in Hawaii. It's just not a thing here. Not yet.
There might be one or two others doing what I do here, but I never see them.
It gets lonely. I try to recruit skaters. Maybe I'll be more effective now that I finally understand wtf to do and can kind of do it. I'm good enough now that people watch me. Do I make it look fun? Maybe. I'd rather they were out here with me. The energy in that kind of camaraderie brings such vitality and joy. I can only dance with myself so much before I run out of steam.
But I can adapt. If I can't find it here, I can travel to where ice freestyle is alive and flourishing. I can go to Montreal and Budapest and participate in the fests and frenzies. Skate with friends from all over the world.
There are worse ways to go into debt.
All pictures and words copyright Anna Horvitz (me) and cannot be used without my consent.
