Dan Knows Best - This Time

by Angela Sanford

I wouldn’t call myself a creature of habit, but like anyone, I have my preferences. I like certain things a particular way—yes, my way—and sometimes that means I think I know what’s best for me, even when others try to convince me otherwise. My idea of adventure has mellowed over the years, and now I also have to consider the odds of injury both during and after an adventure.

Last but not least, the older I get, especially since the “big change” the less I like the cold.  So when dan suggested hockey skates for my birthday gift I wasn’t really impressed. Dan insisted and taunted me to be more receptive and my reply was “my life insurance isn’t that great!”

As a teenager, I enjoyed the frozen ponds at both Uncle Murray’s and Uncle Alworth’s.  I remember the winters that Graham and Myra installed an ice surface for their sons and playing in the pick up games at Winston’s camp, on occasion.  While I was never going to make a hockey team I could manage to participate alongside the others and not worry about falling on my face or breaking any bones.

I also attempted to teach myself figure skating, trying—mostly unsuccessfully—to mimic the jumps and spins of Elizabeth Manley. I managed a few short jumps and a simple spin, but let’s be honest, I wasn’t going to the Olympics. Still, I enjoyed both hockey and figure skating, and while I took a few spills, none were serious. I relied on my figure skate picks to stop, so the thought of wearing hockey skates—without picks—was intimidating.

I worried about balancing on a shorter blade, not having a pick to make a stop, and knowing my last stint on the ice was more than five years ago – also the last time I could squeeze my wide feet into dainty figure skates, which is exactly why I haven’t skated since.  I refused to pay for a pair of skates that were molded to my feet, and I couldn’t find figure skates in a wide width.

This winter has provided the best outdoor ice surfaces in years, and I’ll admit, I felt a little envious watching my family skate on our pond. So yesterday (February 16th), I decided to face my fears and see what hockey skates had in store for me. With Dan’s help, I made my way onto the ice—and I hate to admit it, but he was right (though I’ll deny it if anyone tells him). The transition to hockey skates wasn’t nearly as difficult as I had expected.

I was worried about falling “at my age.” I didn’t need any further facial scars nor a concussion.  Yes, I did fall once; rather a slow-motion drop to my knees when my skate got caught in a crack in the ice, so no pain.  And within a short time, Dan and I were passing the puck back and forth.

Since it was my first time on the ice in years, we kept it short, but thanks to Dan’s persistence (again, I’ll deny this), we had a great time—and, to my surprise, my feet were incredibly comfortable. I hate to say it, but I guess I have to this time: Dan was right.