I've always wanted to.
Last Thursday I sucked up my courage, donned my best thermal socks and drove my mini-van down to the oval while my husband tucked our three kids in bed. I opened the club-house door, stepped inside and asked the first spandex-clad athlete on my right, "Do you know who I talk to if I'm new and want to learn to speed skate?"
That's what the president of the speed skating association said I should do when I e-mailed her the week before. It was a bit scary and my voice was a little shaky and it's hard to know where to look in a room full of people with muscular spandex-clad thighs.
But I did it.
That guy I asked didn't know who I should talk to but the women next to him did. She went to get him for me. He found me a loaner pair of 800-dollar speedskates for me and pointed me in the direction of the coach of the 30-years and older group. We're called "Masters."
As I got my bearings on those strange lengths of steel, the coach gave me pointers and shouted "You're fantastic!" at me.
I kind of thought I might like it. I did. I skated for an hour, going faster and faster and faster around that ice.
I felt just like this:
You know I will, too.
Betsy is a woman of resolve.
All my best wishes for a fantastic 2011,
p.s. Note to moms who are knee-deep in babies and toddlers and school-children: Betsy takes times for herself. You should to. Because you're awesome. And you work really hard. I know you do.
p.p.s. Note to moms who feel like they are underneath a heap of babies and can't get up for air: It gets easier, I swear on the Olympic gold medal I won in my head on the drive back home.
p.p.p.s. No, I didn't wear a spandex unitard. I wore my yoga suit with hardly any sparkle-glue on it.