these feet aren't made for skating, that's just what they won't do
Ice skating and I have a strained relationship. Skating was not a skill that ran in our family. Pictures exist of Dad in full hockey gear from a stint in a mid-60s recreational league in either Leaside or Kirkland Lake. He claimed that he wore Alex Delvecchio's skates for a few games after a teammate found a pair lying around, making me wonder how easy it was to swipe an NHL star's equipment from Maple Leaf Gardens in those days. My problem was my feet. Within a quarter of a lap around the arena, my feet cried uncle. Compared to that pain, falling was pleasurable. Skate size didn't seem to matter, resulting in as much time off the ice as on. Every year, my elementary school had a skating party. Early on, my parents would buy me skates and we'd go to at least one or two other rec skates a year. When it became clear skating was a once-a-year attempt, Dad arranged for hand-me-downs from other teachers. After a few years of this, I resorted to sliding on my boots. ...