Beyond the Blades
Pressing my face against the plexiglass and breathing a tiny, misty fog onto its clear surface, I stood by the ice rink with awe. I was 8 years old when my mom took me to an ice rink to seek refuge from the unrelenting and oppressive heatwave. My eyes widened in sheer amazement as they traced the figure skaters gliding across the ice and doing incredible moves like lifting a leg above their heads or reaching back to touch their skate blades while spinning. I stood frozen by the ice rink, fascinated. To my eight-year-old self, figure skating was the most elegant and fancy sport in the world, and I knew I wanted to be a part of it.
For a full year, I enjoyed skating for the sheer fun of it, gliding over the smooth surface, leaving behind a trail of shimmering frost. Despite the biting coldness in the rice rink, my eager heart would race with excitement every time I learned a new technique. Within that year, I quickly picked up the basic jumps. The coach even told my mom that I was born to be a figure skater because of my slim, short and agile body. Those words of encouragement fueled me with fierce determination; I am committed to intensify my training and gear up for competitive skating.
As I immersed myself in the exhilarating yet demanding world of competitive skating, I realized that my life was changing. I no longer had time to hang out with friends after school because I had to rush to the ice rink for training. Sleeping in on weekend mornings became a luxury I couldn't afford. I had to go to bed by 9:00 p.m. every night because training during weekdays started promptly at 5:00 am. No more movie nights or sleepovers at my friend's house. No more binge-watching favorite TV series or last-minute plans with besties. No more impromptu scavenger hunts at the mall or savoring comfort food at the food court. The sacrifices deepen as the commitment to becoming a professional ice skater consumes more time—Morning training. School. Afterschool training. Academics. Weekend training. Competition. More Training.
But that wasn't all. Almost every vacation, I had to attend skating camps and live a schedule that felt like military training. Every summer and winter break revolved around skating. I used to think my mom was rather eccentric, as even during our family trips, she would consistently manage to locate an ice rink, insisting it was to "keep my feet warm." In simpler terms, she wanted to ensure that I stayed in practice and did not let the difficult skills I had learned slip from my repertoire.
As a competitive athlete, I came to realize that success doesn't solely come from talent itself. It's about prioritizing goals and approaching tasks. It involves connecting small milestones and using them as a foundation to transcend limits and reach new levels.
Many times, I have found myself pondering, “why strive for a higher level?” It’s because the people you encounter along the way are going to be different. Their outlook on the world is like a key that unlocks the door, leading one to a new path. Competing against those remarkable skaters is truly thrilling because I know the immense effort and relentless commitment they've poured into attaining the heights they occupy today.
Speaking of competition, it is marked by instances of triumph and defeat. Figure skating stands as a solitary performance, while the skater bears excessive weight with the entire audience fixated on their every move. It's terrifying and stressful. In those moments, I could only hear the sound of my breath and the scraping of my blade against the ice. In my prime, I felt capable of executing my program flawlessly. But on off days, I would fall once, twice, or even fail on every jump. I shed tears when that happened, and was consumed by immense pressure even before stepping into the competition arena. It's like being on a roller coaster, with ups and downs that never seem to be ending.
When I turned 14, I felt like I had reached my limit. Despite claiming a few gold medals and gracing the podium, I realized I didn't want to put figure skating above everything else. I wanted to hang out with friends at school, excel academically, and even cut my hair short, something I couldn't do due to the stringent requirements of the sport. It wasn't an easy decision, and my mom was genuinely disappointed at the time. And I carried a deep sense of hurt, believing that I could never surpass the girls who worked harder and made greater sacrifices than I did. I doubted myself, my coach, my parents, and even the world at large. I felt a sense of void, as if being left behind by my peers, and constantly engulfed by anger and tumultuous emotions. I stepped away from the ice rink for a full 400 days. While it offered momentary respite, a lingering unease persisted within me. My soul, alas, remained unhealed.
I was fortunate enough to find a professional counselor who specializes in working with teen athletes facing challenges. Regular counseling sessions with her became a cornerstone of my new journey. I also transitioned to another club with coaches adopting a holistic approach, treating me not merely as an athlete honing technical skills but as a complete person.
This proved to be a turning point for me as I shifted away from blaming others and started to assume responsibility for forging my own path.
Reclaiming the ice rink was a significant achievement that required tremendous courage that ran deep. Beyond the scores I attained, I knew I am better than I was 400 days ago.
Today, I still train after school, but I no longer have to wake up at the crack of dawn or miss the first period. I'm still preparing for competitions, but I've reached a point where I'm content even if I don't execute a combo jump perfectly. I train to become a better version of myself.
With a commitment to fostering the well-being of young athletes, I established the Youth Athlete Wellness program. It's a counseling initiative that offers free sessions to teen athletes facing challenges and difficulties. I'm fully dedicated to running this program, drawing attention to the mental well-being of these specific individuals. I'm actively involved in fundraising efforts and recruiting counselors and mentors for the program.
The establishment of the Youth Athlete Wellness program stands as a culmination of my personal evolution. My story serves as proof that with professional assistance, an athlete's life can be transformed, leading to even greater performance and development of aspiring athletes. Especially for teenage athletes, life unfolds with boundless opportunities to perceive the world with positivity and promise. As I continue to skate through the chapters of my own narrative, so too would my journey evolve, embodying the spirit of growth, self-awareness, and a commitment to the flourishing wellness of young athletes.