Skating at 60: The First Step is Acceptance

Getting back on the ice after decades seemed like a great idea. Then I realized I needed lessons.

EDITOR’S NOTE: For her 60th birthday, Mary Ullmer bought a pair of ice skates to rekindle the joy of recreational skating in her youth. A professional journalist whose career has spanned from her small hometown newspaper to her current job at ESPN, Ullmer will share her experiences as she goes through the Learn to Skate USA program.

By Mary Ullmer

Ice skating seemed so simple when I was young.

Growing up in West Michigan, my friends and I would skate whenever we could, choosing between the flooded outdoor rink in the city park or the wild ice in the field behind our apartment complex. Back then, I’d put on my brother’s hand-me-down hockey skates and brave the bitter cold after school and on weekends.

My best friend, Chris, and I loved to make up dance routines, bopping along to 1970s pop music blasting through the outdoor speakers at Muskegon’s McGraft Park. If we were on the field ice, we provided our own music by singing. Admittedly, our best routine was to “Your Momma Don’t Dance” by Loggins & Messina, probably because we knew all the words.

Forward, backwards, spinning, pulling each other between our legs. We were fearless.

Then I grew up.

I skated sporadically in adulthood, including on rental skates at Rockefeller Center in New York City and on skating dates with my partner during my career at the Chicago Tribune in the 1990s. You haven’t lived until you’ve glided across the ice in sub-zero temperatures at Chicago’s Navy Pier on New Year’s Eve, complete with champagne and fireworks at midnight.

When I moved back to my hometown, I skated on the expansive inland lake just a block from my home. It was wondrous. But a move away from the lakeshore put my skates in cold storage — for two decades.

Now happily home again in Muskegon, I had a yearning to put on the blades again. I was turning 60. I needed to exercise in a way that included more movement and aerobics than walking my dogs in the woods or along the shores of Lake Michigan.

Skates would be my birthday present to myself.

I was thrilled to see the company that makes Rollerblades also makes ice skates. Not quite hockey skates, but not figure skates, either. I needed ankle support. Always did. The skates were mostly black with pink features. Perfect.

When they arrived, I rushed to open the box and tried them on in my living room. Perfect fit. I read the instructions (yes, I read the owner’s manual when I buy a car, too). Big letters told me to MAKE SURE YOUR SKATES ARE SHARPENED BEFORE USING. I called the local figure skating club, leery that this was just a ploy to get me to spend more money since I don’t recall ever sharpening my hockey skates when I was a kid.

I was assured that, yes, skates need to be sharpened before use. They are sent dull from the company for safety reasons. The people handling the skates throughout the process need to be protected from knife-like blades, as does the person (me) who handles them right out of the box.

I also learned there is a big difference between skating on a smooth, clean, well-cared for indoor rink and the tiny outdoor rink down the street. Who knew dirt and other natural elements on an outdoor rink affected skating ability?

I was so excited. New skates, sharp blades, new me. I headed down to that small rink near my home and prepared for the joy of my youth.

It did not go well.

Had anyone been watching, they’d have thought it was the first time I’d ever worn skates. I only fell once, but that was only because I didn’t skate much. I mostly stood there in my shiny new blades trying to maintain my balance.

I was scared to death of falling. I couldn’t stand up straight. I couldn’t generate speed. I couldn’t turn. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t dare try to skate backwards.

Dancing with “Your Momma Don’t Dance” playing in my head was out of the question.

I nearly cried. I wanted so badly to skate again. I had cool-looking skates. I needed to be good — not even great — before I would attempt to skate in front of other people. But how could I get better if I was afraid to get on the ice?

I was reticent to admit it, but I needed skating lessons.

I had excitedly told friends I was going skating, sent pictures of my awesome skates and now had to admit I was a disaster on ice. I knew my friends couldn’t care less, but it was important to me that I do it well. Yes, I’m a competitive person, but I also wanted to enjoy myself, get a workout and not get hurt. At 60, a broken bone — any bone — is a huge deal.

So, I took the first step. I signed up for the Learn to Skate USA program at Lakeshore Skating Academy in Muskegon. Three lessons, 45 minutes each, with an optional exhibition at the end where participants can showcase what they’ve learned.

I’m nervous but excited.

Cue up Loggins & Messina.