I know it's so close to Valentine's day, but I can't keep it in any longer. Despite the bad timing, readers, I regret to inform you that I'm contemplating giving up on my first love.
Yes, I've battled, contemplated, I've rode the highs and fought the lows, but my efforts may soon come to an end. There comes a time in most people's lives where they must face up to reality and give up on their first love. Mine, is ice skating.
The infatuation began when I was roughly ten years old, and ended about four years later.
However, the love always lingered, and roughly two months ago, after having to avoid the television whenever Dancing On Ice was on, I decided to stop mourning after my lost hobby, so I got my skates on (sorry) and booked some lessons.
As I opened the bag to my beautiful ice skates and saw a bit of blood on the front of one boot, I knew I'd made the right decision. I can't describe the feeling I had returning to the ice. It literally felt like I had been reunited with a long-lost lover. I'm aware that I'm making myself out to be some Olympic skater, I'm really not, well, wasn't.
But the thing is, when I was younger, ice skating wasn't as popular. It felt like my little secret. I never let myself regret things. But even for the sake of this blog post, thinking 'what if?', is something I can't bring myself to contemplate.
Back on the ice, I felt frustrated. Whilst my skating was better than before, the frustration of not having the same level of balance, or even the same knowledge anymore was annoying.
And I won't go into the effort I've had to make - of course, it's been worth it, but over the last month I've battled with the universe in order to re-kindle my old flame. I've been on broken down trains, I've missed buses, I’ve spilled hot chocolate over myself, and I've had to take whole afternoons for 45 minutes of a lesson where I'm put into the wrong group.
Of course, I hadn't complained, until now.
Waking up at 7 o clock on a Sunday isn't my top on my list of favourite things to do, it isn't even in my top five, would you believe.
But last Sunday, I dragged myself up to go to the local rink to practice. Of course,even that had to prove difficult, and I remain stubborn in blaming public transport and not my lack of motivation to learn how to drive.
However, once I was on the ice, it was a sorry state of affairs. My self- confidence on the ice wasn’t great anymore, which was only to be lowered by 10 year olds spinning around me. So I left.
On the way home, tail and boots dragging between my feet, I wondered.. is persistence in not giving up always the best idea?
We're told to 'never give up', and success stories of people achieving their dreams, well, they didn't give up when the universe stuck two fingers up at them, either.
Returning to my childhood hobby, I was told 'it's never too late!' but I'm starting to think that… maybe, it is? I don't mean that in a self-pitying-looking-for-attention sort of way, but seriously, should I give up the dream? The problem is, you see, I'm an 'all or nothing' type. And whilst I understand that it'd take a lot of hard work to get back up to standard, I want to be there now. As much as it hasn't been practical, with all of the travel and cost, I really felt good about going after what I wanted, and not giving up. But as the high from that wears off, and I'm left with the constant challenges. Does chasing after a childhood dream become impossible once we learn of the the harsh reality of the world? Is there a time in life where we have to start thinking ‘realistically?’. Something else occurred to me the other day, which just emphasises my point : London...Newcastle...Alton Towers...Universities...concerts...even the cinemas, sometimes. They, amongst many other places, have one thing in common. They're crowded with people. Now, some of you may interpret somewhere that's busy as a good thing. But whenever I'm surrounded by people, I can't help but feel...ordinary and insignificant.
We're brought up being told that we're 'special', and it doesn't take much for us to feel it either. We're all quite willing to go along with being told that we're special.
However, there's nothing like waiting in a queue behind a mile of people,being someone's hundredth customer of the day, or walking down a busy street, to bring us back down to earth. As we grow older, are we supposed to come to terms with being one in six billion?
All it takes is one smooth talking boyfriend for a girl to feel special - but I've started to wonder, is anyone really that different?
Of course, we all have people in our lives that are unique to us, but as a whole, how do we differentiate from everyone else? Why is it that growing up is coupled with facing harsh truths? The world seems a much happier place when we’re younger, and we’re told we can be anything we want to be.
Children have happy, light-hearted books and television programmes intertwined with moral backgrounds to educate lightly. But maybe we need something of an adult equivalent to break to us the cold truths of the world.
Yes, I've battled, contemplated, I've rode the highs and fought the lows, but my efforts may soon come to an end. There comes a time in most people's lives where they must face up to reality and give up on their first love. Mine, is ice skating.
The infatuation began when I was roughly ten years old, and ended about four years later.
However, the love always lingered, and roughly two months ago, after having to avoid the television whenever Dancing On Ice was on, I decided to stop mourning after my lost hobby, so I got my skates on (sorry) and booked some lessons.
As I opened the bag to my beautiful ice skates and saw a bit of blood on the front of one boot, I knew I'd made the right decision. I can't describe the feeling I had returning to the ice. It literally felt like I had been reunited with a long-lost lover. I'm aware that I'm making myself out to be some Olympic skater, I'm really not, well, wasn't.
But the thing is, when I was younger, ice skating wasn't as popular. It felt like my little secret. I never let myself regret things. But even for the sake of this blog post, thinking 'what if?', is something I can't bring myself to contemplate.
Back on the ice, I felt frustrated. Whilst my skating was better than before, the frustration of not having the same level of balance, or even the same knowledge anymore was annoying.
And I won't go into the effort I've had to make - of course, it's been worth it, but over the last month I've battled with the universe in order to re-kindle my old flame. I've been on broken down trains, I've missed buses, I’ve spilled hot chocolate over myself, and I've had to take whole afternoons for 45 minutes of a lesson where I'm put into the wrong group.
Of course, I hadn't complained, until now.
Waking up at 7 o clock on a Sunday isn't my top on my list of favourite things to do, it isn't even in my top five, would you believe.
But last Sunday, I dragged myself up to go to the local rink to practice. Of course,even that had to prove difficult, and I remain stubborn in blaming public transport and not my lack of motivation to learn how to drive.
However, once I was on the ice, it was a sorry state of affairs. My self- confidence on the ice wasn’t great anymore, which was only to be lowered by 10 year olds spinning around me. So I left.
On the way home, tail and boots dragging between my feet, I wondered.. is persistence in not giving up always the best idea?
We're told to 'never give up', and success stories of people achieving their dreams, well, they didn't give up when the universe stuck two fingers up at them, either.
Returning to my childhood hobby, I was told 'it's never too late!' but I'm starting to think that… maybe, it is? I don't mean that in a self-pitying-looking-for-attention sort of way, but seriously, should I give up the dream? The problem is, you see, I'm an 'all or nothing' type. And whilst I understand that it'd take a lot of hard work to get back up to standard, I want to be there now. As much as it hasn't been practical, with all of the travel and cost, I really felt good about going after what I wanted, and not giving up. But as the high from that wears off, and I'm left with the constant challenges. Does chasing after a childhood dream become impossible once we learn of the the harsh reality of the world? Is there a time in life where we have to start thinking ‘realistically?’. Something else occurred to me the other day, which just emphasises my point : London...Newcastle...Alton Towers...Universities...concerts...even the cinemas, sometimes. They, amongst many other places, have one thing in common. They're crowded with people. Now, some of you may interpret somewhere that's busy as a good thing. But whenever I'm surrounded by people, I can't help but feel...ordinary and insignificant.
We're brought up being told that we're 'special', and it doesn't take much for us to feel it either. We're all quite willing to go along with being told that we're special.
However, there's nothing like waiting in a queue behind a mile of people,being someone's hundredth customer of the day, or walking down a busy street, to bring us back down to earth. As we grow older, are we supposed to come to terms with being one in six billion?
All it takes is one smooth talking boyfriend for a girl to feel special - but I've started to wonder, is anyone really that different?
Of course, we all have people in our lives that are unique to us, but as a whole, how do we differentiate from everyone else? Why is it that growing up is coupled with facing harsh truths? The world seems a much happier place when we’re younger, and we’re told we can be anything we want to be.
Children have happy, light-hearted books and television programmes intertwined with moral backgrounds to educate lightly. But maybe we need something of an adult equivalent to break to us the cold truths of the world.
