(no subject)
It's hard to imagine what really stepping on the Olympic ice will feel like.
I'm not talking about practices with nothing but reporters and your coaches watching and a bunch of other people on the ice with you. I'm talking about the real thing. You've done your warm-up, you wait your turn, and then they call your name. You're alone. You're alone and you're looking at the Olympic rings and you're looking around at the seats full to the brim with people and I'm sure that you might think a lot of things.
You might think of all the little moments it took to be here. Long practices, falling and getting back up again. Scrutiny, words spoken about your skating and you, yourself. You might think about what you gave up to be in this very moment. Some gave up school, some gave up most of a life in exchange for something a little different. Being a skater is something that no one can understand unless they've lived it. You might think about milestones, medals and good skates. The way you felt after you stepped off the ice knowing that you just had the best skate that you've ever had. Wanting to recreate that moment again for a second, for a minute and wanting to feel that way again for just the briefest of time.
It's a totally different stage though. It's not just a skating competition, everyone's watching. If you're me, you might be thinking how many other people could be in your place and how they might use this moment a little bit better than you might. Then, you promptly think of how many people would kick you in the head for thinking such a thing. You can't help that it crosses your mind. You might think about your family, and not just your immediate family. Your skating family. People you've surrounded yourself with. Some made a ton of sacrifices for you to be where you are, whether it would be location for some, financial reasons for others. And a lot of people, both. You think about your family sitting up there somewhere. Your mom, probably hiding in a corner with her head in her hands hoping for the best. You just think about how happy you are that they're here, whether they are able to watch or not.
You think about opportunities that slipped away. Moments where if you had just landed one more thing, if you had just done more - you could have won. You think about how horrible that felt, and how you never want to repeat that again. You think about where you are. The Olympics. When you really think about that, nothing seems to matter anymore. Your work paid off and here you are. Regardless of placement, you had already broken a barrier that some doubted you would ever cross. That you doubted you would ever cross.
You think of your life after this moment. Whatever happens on this ice, life will go on. Regardless if you stay upright the whole time or never stop touching the ice, life will resume it's natural course. You have six minutes in two days to make the moment last. It seems like a lot of pressure and okay, it is. You hear the words that people have been telling you for years in your head, how you've earned this and how you've worked towards it and how you deserve it.
It's finally time to stop just listening, and start believing.
I'm not talking about practices with nothing but reporters and your coaches watching and a bunch of other people on the ice with you. I'm talking about the real thing. You've done your warm-up, you wait your turn, and then they call your name. You're alone. You're alone and you're looking at the Olympic rings and you're looking around at the seats full to the brim with people and I'm sure that you might think a lot of things.
You might think of all the little moments it took to be here. Long practices, falling and getting back up again. Scrutiny, words spoken about your skating and you, yourself. You might think about what you gave up to be in this very moment. Some gave up school, some gave up most of a life in exchange for something a little different. Being a skater is something that no one can understand unless they've lived it. You might think about milestones, medals and good skates. The way you felt after you stepped off the ice knowing that you just had the best skate that you've ever had. Wanting to recreate that moment again for a second, for a minute and wanting to feel that way again for just the briefest of time.
It's a totally different stage though. It's not just a skating competition, everyone's watching. If you're me, you might be thinking how many other people could be in your place and how they might use this moment a little bit better than you might. Then, you promptly think of how many people would kick you in the head for thinking such a thing. You can't help that it crosses your mind. You might think about your family, and not just your immediate family. Your skating family. People you've surrounded yourself with. Some made a ton of sacrifices for you to be where you are, whether it would be location for some, financial reasons for others. And a lot of people, both. You think about your family sitting up there somewhere. Your mom, probably hiding in a corner with her head in her hands hoping for the best. You just think about how happy you are that they're here, whether they are able to watch or not.
You think about opportunities that slipped away. Moments where if you had just landed one more thing, if you had just done more - you could have won. You think about how horrible that felt, and how you never want to repeat that again. You think about where you are. The Olympics. When you really think about that, nothing seems to matter anymore. Your work paid off and here you are. Regardless of placement, you had already broken a barrier that some doubted you would ever cross. That you doubted you would ever cross.
You think of your life after this moment. Whatever happens on this ice, life will go on. Regardless if you stay upright the whole time or never stop touching the ice, life will resume it's natural course. You have six minutes in two days to make the moment last. It seems like a lot of pressure and okay, it is. You hear the words that people have been telling you for years in your head, how you've earned this and how you've worked towards it and how you deserve it.
It's finally time to stop just listening, and start believing.