Sheila Bean | Article F . H . Seely | Photos

I hit the ice two years ago after a thirty-year absence , and eureka , modern figure skates are magic ! Wider . Warmer . Actually comfortable and supportive . When I take off my new skates , I don ’ t have that “ ahhh ” sensation of freeing my aching feet from prison .

Even with proper footwear , my return to the ice wasn ’ t pretty . I clutched my husband ’ s arm as if I were drowning , and each step was cautious and wooden . Talk about mindfulness . Wearing his hockey helmet and elbow pads , I lived each moment with full attention and intention . My entire body strained . As I let go , and my husband fluidly coasted away , I worked up a sweat , feeling accomplishment after only a lap or two .

Day by day I practised . Steps turned into glides . The elbow pads came off . I soon made it through several laps and did not fall .

To escape the rut of constantly skating counterclockwise , I switched direction every ten laps , for a total of eighty . I didn ’ t even need to count . Ten , reverse , ten , reverse . After a few weeks of eighty , I pushed myself to one hundred . But here ’ s the thing : Once I pitched beyond eighty , I lost track of which group of ten laps I was on .

Whispering the numbers helped me to remember every single lap , and I tagged many with special memories . Some marked celebratory milestones , and a few were sad .

Numbers earned meaning in other ways , too : 7 because it ’ s a prime , 51 because 17 × 3 is always a surprise , and the whole rollicking 9-times table . I threw in random links to popular culture , from Highway

Number One to 99 Red Balloons and a Heinz 57 of ragtag connections in between . Expo ’ 67 , anyone ? The ’ 88 Olympics ?

Sometimes I counted in French , almost knocked off my game by the quirks of the seventies and eighties , and then sliding into home with the nineties . I lingered on the Van Doos , an Anglo tangle of the Canadian Army ’ s Royal 22nd Regiment . What a hoot to say “ cinquante-cinq ,” not to mention multi-number pileups such as “ quatre-vingt-dix-sept .”

Would you look at that ! While counting , I learned to dominate forward crosscuts . With calming breaths and extreme concentration , I handled a few backward crosscuts , as unsteady as a newborn kitten . Careful , now . Not too many .

I met neighbours at our community park : a tot pushing

48 | arta . net FAMILY