The rink where I learned to ice skate last year is the most Toronto thing ever.
On a nearby wall a swirly 1970s sign reads Snack Bar.
(There is no snack bar.
Getty / Muriel de Seze
There is never a snack bar.)
A guy in hockey skates falls forward on ice and saves himself with a push-up.
I could skate in a circle and avoid collisions.
I was an average-size kid with a big butt.
As a kid I moved because my body insisted on it, like a dog begging to play.
Roller coasters and bicycles and trampolines were my whole life.
It wasnt supposed to be fun, especially if you werent thin.
So I lost weight.
Then I did theusual thing and regained it all, plus more.
When youre fat the whole world tells you to exercise.
Presumably youre fat because you dont, and if you did, your body would correct itself.
Not in a store that sells leggings.
Youre not supposed to show up publicly to exercise unless youre already thin.
When youre fat, youre also told that your body is an emergency, like a five-alarm fire.
Theres no room for getting comfortable, getting to know yourself, or goofing off.
Theres no time for pleasure or gentle exploration.
Just: Get out.
Get a new body.
I wouldnt have dreamed of trying to skate if I didnt have at least onefat and self-acceptingfriend.
My first thought, as a nearly 40-year-old adult was: But my couch, and Netflix.
My second thought was: What would 10-year-old me do?
I was mostly shocked by how shocked I was.
You made that look easy, my friend said as I surfaced from a dive.
Holy shit, I thought.
What else can I still do?
It is no longer the 1980s, and roller discos are sadly uncommon (R.I.P.).
But there are more than a hundred ice rinks in Toronto.
The public skating sessions are free.
You just show up with skates, walk in, and go.
I found a warm changing room with benches where I put on my skates.
Minutes later I was standing on the ice for the first time.
I held the fence and took small, marching steps.
Very slightly, my skates glided forward.
It was one of the most thrilling experiences of my life.
The guy in hockey skates called out, Hey, youre learning!
and told me he was a beginner himself.
He looked pretty nimble on the ice, so this gave me hope.
Id signed up for skating lessons that would start in January.
My goal was to, maybe, let go of the fence.
As it turns out, my body has some surprising advantages on ice.
Im short and bottom-heavy, giving me a low center of gravity.
My big feet require long blades, adding stability and glide to my skating.
If I fall, my bones are well protected.
(I do wear knee and head protection.
Stay safe, kids.)
I can crouch down and hug my knees while skating, but Im still working on shoot the duck.
I take lessons once or twice a week, and time off whenever I want to.
Once I stayed home for two weeks, for the sheer novelty.
Then I went back, because skating is the joy of my life.
It feels like play.
Its exploring and goofing off.
My weight has not changed.
I think about flying.
I think about experiencing life through the only body I will ever have.
Ice skating is meditative and difficult and terrifying and beautiful, like knitting on a roller coaster.
You should try it sometime.
