By Laughs by Teresa
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My First Ice Skating Adventure
My latest “Maybe” is ice skating. My first lesson was a riot. Though I’m in my mid-50s, I’m often told I look early 40s—until my bones spill the truth. Determined to conquer the ice, I went all-in—knee pads, helmet, tush pads, and hand gear—turning me into a clunky alien wobbling onto the rink. Picture a sci-fi extra with too many gadgets, clinging to the wall I named Wall-ee, while kids zipped by, stifling giggles. We learned to fall safely, and falling? Easy. But getting up with my creaky mid-50s bones was a saga—groaning, wincing, and wondering if I’d need a crane. I flailed like a startled penguin, nearly clipping a stranger’s shin, and ditched the gear after slipping and falling more times than I’d admit, even missing work once with a bruised ego (and tush). No crisis, just a hilarious detour—though Sansa’s stare screamed disbelief.
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Joining the Adult Learn-to-Skate Class
Spurred by my alien flop, I joined an “adult” learn-to-skate class—quotes intentional. My teen classmates glided like caffeinated squirrels; I, in my mid-50s, hugged Wall-ee like a lifeline. Some teens, maybe feeling bad for me, tried to cheer or help, their kindness a sweet contrast to my wobbles. By session two, they spun backward; I earned the instructor’s “persistence” praise—a polite “you tried.” No certificate, but a spark ignited. I’d glide—on my terms, sans teen judgment.
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Solo Sessions and Small Victories
Solo sessions became my battleground. Fueled by stubbornness and a peppy playlist, I hit the ice again. I slipped, fell, and laughed through the bruises—more tumbles than I can count. That missed workday, hobbling into the office with a tale of ice-bound glory, now feels like a badge. The $50 gear haul? Ditched after lesson one—a bulky burden my aching bones didn’t need. Instead, I leaned into the falls, letting them teach balance despite the creaks. Weeks later, it happened—I glided! Wobbly, short, mostly straight, with a high chance of a flop, but it’s mine. And now? A tiny fan club of five-year-olds cheers my every wobble, their high-pitched “Go, lady!” melting my heart as I pass, bones protesting but spirit soaring. Wall-ee’s still my panic pal, but I’m moving!
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The “Maybe” Mindset
“Maybe” has morphed into “Okay, maybe more.” The quest for wall-free grace continues, and I’m hooked on this low-pressure thrill. What’s next? Competitive napping, where my mid-50s dozing could dominate? Or synchronized swimming, flailing with fellow “Maybe” fans? Maybe not—but the options are endless. My tip: Skip the $50 gear splurge. Borrow or rent, and test your “Maybe” with free community skates (check local listings) for under $10. It’s a frugal fling that spares your bones and keeps the fun.
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Your Turn to Try “Maybe”
If you, like me, thrive on fleeting adventures and dodge obligations—especially with a body that begs for mercy—try “Maybe.” What’s your next quirky quest? Spill below—Sansa and I are all ears, ready to cheer (or judge) your chaos!
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The Fun Doesn’t Stop Here
Your daily dose of digital delight continues below!
Want to set more boundaries? Check out my post on avoiding emotional baggage for tips on finding peace amidst chaos!
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