“You not fall if you wear figure skates.”
I was looking up at her, a heap on my stomach on the ice, the hockey skates that betrayed me attached to my splayed legs. To my credit, it was a graceful slow-motion-type fall that I was rather proud of successfully executing. But the Russian was unmoved.
“You could ice dance. Why do you wear those skates? You will ruin your form if you keep wearing hockey skates.”
I was starting to think she had a point. It was week four. I had skated for two weeks in all-purpose rental skates, a peculiar hybrid of figure and hockey skates designed to offend no one and confuse everyone.
Because I had not died during the first two lessons, I felt brave enough to wear my hockey skates and was once again back in the universe of no stops because there was no toe pick I could use to cheat. Plus, I liked the flatter blade. I kept pitching backward, then forward, then downward in these freaky fast-angled foot-covers.
Maybe it was time to revise goals. I went home and ordered from Amazon what I thought were figure skates. But, really they were cheap and supposedly warm enough to wear on an iced pond. They would last a while, until I decided to buy a real pair.
I am easily persuaded by Russians.