till your pants are soaking wet....

He turned around and looked up. A warm smile broke across his face as soon as he recognized who I was.
An old acquaintance. A familiar looking face.

He waved. You're back!
I grinned.

He then pointed his thumb towards the direction of rink, indicating that he was going to resume his usual practice. I nodded and gave a thumbs up.

That was how we would usually greet another. An affirmative nod was always more than enough to acknowledge the presence of another skater that would vie for the limited space on the rink.

I proceeded onto to put on my socks and lacen up my skates. They felt like new skates that hadn't been broken into. The leather had stiffened up from the lack of use over the past 7 years, sometime before I was forced to stop skating and leave for my studies in the UK. I had not been skating regularly as much as I did then ever since. It would usually be over the long summer months like this when freedom from academic constraints lapses into sheer boredom and inactivity, that I pay an annual pilgrimage to this old nostalgic haunt.

Thankfully the rink was empty again today, devoid of the usual young teenage crowds that would pack every inch of the corner on weekends.

I was reminded how lonely this sport really was.

Ricardo was still nailing his jumps and stroking across the surface with much control and precision. His spins were pretty polished and did not spiral away from the centre.

I have so much admiration for this fellow.

When I first got to know Ricardo through Mark, I was told politely (and pulled aside to a corner) that he was deaf and mute. He was also unable to afford any lessons from our instructor. So he would teach himself how to skate through the observation and mimicking of other skaters whenever they had their lessons. Every weekend then, my friends and I would see this young lad picking himself up after every fall, attacking one jump after another. Practising each spin till he got them clean and perfectly centered. And here he was, sticking to the sport even after many years when most of us who had the privilege of having lessons had quit or ceased to turn up for ice-time sessions regularly.

Ricardo tripped on his entry to his camel spin. He got up and tried again. And again.

Seeing how persistent Ricardo was on the ice reminded me of my coach who once said this memorable one-liner I'll never forget, '' You can't say you've tried enough until I see your pants soaking wet...'' (direct chinese translation). To ''Quit'' is akin to not having tried hard enough. As a performer, you are told to get up everytime you fall down and give it another go again. And smile with a big I'm-alright! grin.

No, I have not quit skating.

I still love falling over my spins, tripping over my jumps and getting my bum all sore and wet.

It is very much uncomfortable though, when the cold ice kisses your arse

Aside from being a form of recreation to keeps my fitnesse level from deteoriating, skating reminds me how one needs that kind of perseverance and discipline to get through all the hardships and trials in Life if you ever want to achieve anything. Like how the timing for a take-off or landing needs to be painstakingly coordinated. Anything from landing your first axel, getting your first publication to being the creme de la creme in any respective field/company/organization, it is the sweet smell of success that motivates us to plough through those unavoidable obstacles without being worn down by the daily grind.

I suppose all I have done, is taken a very loooong break from it. Heh.