Black Swan
Ella Gratzer '21
“a dancer dies twice—once when they stop dancing, and this first death is the more painful.”
-Martha Graham
It’s cold.
It’s brittle.
It’s sharp.
It’s, most of all, unforgiving.
All of it is worth it. I’ve spent too much effort just to give up now.
Who will I disappoint? Myself? My Parents? My coaches? My Friends? My country? The entire world?
It’s too much to think about. I’ll do my routine over and over again till I have the right moment to leave.
The sky is still pitch black as the alarm blares. It’s normal for Canada, but it’s still the time that’s rare to see someone out of bed.
I’m used to the bleakness of morning. The eerie calm, as if the world were dead. No sleep is what it takes to be the best. One of many sacrifices that I’ve made to compete in elite and qualify to compete within the International Skating Union’s Grand Prix.
Don’t you dare think about snoozing the alarm, you moocher. Go drink the glass of water. Make sure to remember all your layers. Brush your teeth. The judges don’t like yellow teeth. Put on your makeup. Right before left, always, why, because. The bathroom ritual is complete with a customary ballerina bun.
Downstairs there’s the dreaded mandatory meal of oats in the fridge. They’re bland, like always. I wish I could eat whatever I wanted. I dream that I can have a tall stack of pancakes topped with maple syrup and whipped cream. All my years in Canada, I only had one proper Canadian breakfast when I went to my friend’s house the first month I arrived in Canada.
5:06, it’s a minute late. Today’s gonna be bad. At least I’m not traveling for competition.
Last time I traveled for competition, I had to get used to the different time zone and got behind in class. I didn’t even get to see the city. All I can do when traveling for competition is practice, practice, and more practice. It never ends.
After I finish eating, I go outside to start the car. It’s snowed again. I hate winter. It’s ironic I chose a sport with ice. Another routine starts, of clearing snow off the car, defrosting the ice from the windows, and heating the inside to drive to the rink. Today, the fog is like a wall. I think it’s telling me to stay in bed and never leave, but the show must go on.
I’m not gonna mess up today. I can’t afford it. Stretch, warm-up, 1, 2, 3, 4…There are so many people that can replace me. I’m already 17. My time is coming to an end. Change is approaching. Russia has so many talented 14-year-olds ready to join the senior level and my own nation, Japan, has the next big thing waiting in the wings to replace me. Right now, it’s my peak. Now or never for the Olympics…27, 28, 29, 30.
Time for skates. Right trainer off, left trainer off. Lamb’s wool in right skate, lamb’s wool in left skate. Socks off, 1, 2. Wool socks on, 1, 2. Right boot on and laced. Left boot on and laced. Double check. Coaching is about to start.
There’re differences, but it’s all the same. Ask any random person what they think figure skating is. It’s jumps, jumps, and jumps. We do flips, loops, lutzes, axels, salchows, toe loops. It’s all about the edges of the blade. What’s my favorite? I hate them all. Transition we use crossovers. The screeching scraping of the blades against the ice hurts my ears. I want it gone. We must improve my spins because I’m slacking again. The motion makes me sick. I’m done feeling like a headless chicken for part of my routine. And the step sequence is never to perfection. I need more energy, personality, I’ve heard it all before. I simply can’t.
Next is school. I wish I was better at it. There’s a slim chance I’ll get to go to the same universities as my friends. I’ve missed too much school and my grades are embarrassing. School, especially my friends, make me feel somewhat normal. I do confess I sleep during class and am rarely prepared for anything. Look at me, I’m such a fool. I disappoint every adult that tries to help me.
After school, it’s ballet. Ballet is torture. I don’t think humans were made to do it. The same moves you repeat until perfected. Sure, it looks similar to skating, but it’s completely different. I don’t need a turn out or point my toes when on the rink. The music doesn’t matter when you have to focus on not being a klutz. Thank goodness it’s 45 minutes.
Once I get home, I order takeout, the healthy option, like always, and call my parents in Japan. I eat dinner, they eat breakfast, and we talk.
“I miss you Mama and Papa! I’m still having a great time in Canada. I have good friends and am skating well. All’s well. I’m excited to see you for the NHK Trophy. Yes, Mama, it’s in Osaka, yes, late late November. I would be very happy to visit you in Morioka. It’s not a problem. I miss your cooking, Mama. Well, it’s 19:00. I gotta complete my homework. Ask Haru-chan about what he’s now doing in school. Um, go to work safely, Papa. Make sure you guys eat well and take care of yourselves. Bye-bye, I’ll talk with you tomorrow, hopefully. Okay, okay, bye.”
I miss speaking my native language, Japanese. I miss my family. I miss living in the countryside. Even with the loud cicadas during the summer nights. I miss the small lively town full of familiar faces. I miss not being stressed all the time. All these thoughts swirl in my head before I sleep. Sleep is reluctant to embrace me as the schoolwork mocks me, unfinished, carefully in my school bag for tomorrow. Rinse, repeat, recycle. It’s gonna be okay. This is what your life is.
I want to enjoy what life offers. I want to be normal, not extraordinary, but I’m not ready to take the fall. I’m not ready to be alone, down on the cold ice.
It’s been two months, and already late November and time for the NHK Trophy. I’m excited to go back home. Maybe I won’t have to go back to Canada. I care little for my skating, but hopefully I won’t mess up, because I’m expected to place well, especially in my home country. My knee has been bothering me, so I need to take it easy. I guess the midnight training sessions backfired on me. Therefore, I’d rather see Osaka: Osaka Castle, the temples and shrines, go shopping with my Japanese friends and eat Okonomiyaki, but most importantly, go to visit the animals at the aquarium.
I’m much happier being injured and skating less. Maybe it’s time to tell my coaches and parents when I go up to Morioka? But who am I without figure skating?
