HP #19 - Dining out with the Tammasaurus
Usual disclaimer applies: this is an old event I'm recounting. See my first HP post for the full notes on these.
Background: I'd just set up my first one-on-one lesson with the Tammasaurus. Some called me insane, the others were taking bets on how long I'd survive...
This is a rather long post, I apologise for that, but if you want a taste of what my first private lesson was like then I recommend consuming the whole thing in one sitting - that's right, the food metaphor has already begun - as my first lesson proved to be a similar feat of endurance.
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Sweat poured off my face, my hair was already soaked and I was beet red as I puffed for breath in the middle of the rink. I hoped, in that instance, that I could've been described as a "hot mess", but I've long suspected that my hair drenched in sweat doesn't look in any way as sexy as it can do on some people.
Side note - At this point, I was going to illustrate the above description with a picture of some good-looking, sweaty-haired man and a not-so-witty caption about how I looked nothing like as good, but then I realised I was Google image searching "sweaty man hair" and was like "WHY AM I DOING THIS AGAIN?" (Someone tell me we've all been there...? PLEASE, SOMEONE!)
ANYWAY...
The group lessons I'd had in the past didn't even compare to the workout the Tammasaurus had just given me. In group, you are given an exercise to get on with and you kinda meander around practising it as you fancy. The coach wanders around and visits everyone to check how you're all getting along, so you can kinda slack off if you're tired or want a break to think about how to execute the devilish move you're supposed to be doing beautifully. There's plenty of time to chip away at the exercise quietly in your own way without feeling judged for your bad efforts - pressure is, overall, pretty low, and that can be a perk for many people.
My first experience of one-on-one lessons was an entirely different kettle of fish. The Tammasaurus was no-nonsense, all-business and relentless in her teaching. She initially skated around casually with me, which lulled me into a false sense of security. I was about to endure a multi-course meal and this stage was her showing me to the table; a table that came equipped with no less than seven sets of cutlery laid out in preparation for all the courses. She passed me the menu and asked me what my goals were, to which I wasn't really sure what to say. I explained that I felt I'd exhausted the group class curriculum and wanted to go beyond that, whatever "beyond that" was. I might as well have just loftily said "let chef decide!"
We started with warm up exercises. The Tammasaurus laid before me forward and backward cross rolls as her entrée of choice, with forward and backward slaloms as the accompanying palette cleanser.
I liked forward cross rolls a lot (still do!), so I demonstrated my wide sweeping forward cross rolls with pride, however she immediately grabbed the salt & pepper pots to start seasoning my technique:
"...push off the skating edge more as you swap foot... keep your leg lower as you swing round... rotate your hips more with the movement... keep your arms level and try not to move them as much."
She delivered her comments with technical precision, accompanied with her own demonstration whenever my confused face betrayed my lack of comprehension - it was a master class for my novice skills!
My cross rolls weren't fundamentally wrong in any way, they just needed fine tuning to smooth them out more; after all, figure skating is mostly about making everything look nice. A drizzle of gravy here, a dash of herbs there... You'd be amazed how many layers of finery and complexity a coach can heap on an exercise you thought you had nailed down. We got to the backward cross rolls and I bashfully explained that I was still just stepping them in to get them going, as opposed to just launching straight into the gliding; mercifully she seemed unfazed.
The forward slaloms were okay, but when it came to the backward ones then, honestly, it was a bit like I'd ordered the fancy-sounding item on the menu to look sophisticated, even though I hadn't the faintest what it was. I'd never done backward slaloms before, and I knew I could've asked for a demonstration, but I figured they were something I could just guess at as we went along. I poked at them cautiously to get used to the taste and managed to finish them better than I thought I would. The Tammasaurus continued to appear unfussed by any semblance of my competence (or lack thereof); a true professional!
The whole time I was skating I felt like I'd never been under so much pressure in my short skating career, all self-applied I should add. I wanted to do well and demonstrate some modicum of ability - she taught a lot of excellent, young skaters and, while I knew I wouldn't be measured against their standard, I still wanted to aspire to it, however unattainable it really was for an adult skater. Pressure was also being slathered on with a butter knife just by the sheer nature of one-on-one teaching. It was just as intense as when someone just sits and watches you while you're eating a meal - kinda odd and unsettling all at the same time. Little corrections and prompts were delivered as I was skating - there was no hiding the bad attempts here.
I tried to dab the stains of the entrée from my mouth as we moved on, but there were no breaks; proceed past Go, do not collect £200. The Tammasaurus produced before me crossovers for the first and second main courses, forward and back, clockwise and anticlockwise... have I mentioned no breaks?
The Tammasaurus reached for the hot sauce on my forward crossovers: more knee bend; upper body twisted more into the circle; more lean into the circle; hold the glide on each foot longer before transitioning to the other; arms needed to be stretched an insane distance apart (try reaching your arms as far apart as possible, then twist your upper body, bend your legs and imagine they're motoring away underneath you). They were still the crossovers I knew from group lessons, but the hot sauce made them leaner, more aggressive, more powerful, more efficient. Backward had a similar list of improvements. As with the cross rolls, I didn't come out feeling that my crossovers were fundamentally incorrect, just that layers were being added for a higher standard. To continue the meal analogy, it was like I'd been cooking my casseroles for just two hours and she was now showing me the richness of the eight hour, slow-cooked version.
My poor legs didn't care much for finesse or higher standards though, the strain of focusing while holding moves for longer, all the time under the rapt attention of the Tammasaurus, had them on fire as I struggled to hold the aggressive crossover stance without slipping. Tumbles were had - food spilled all over my napkin - she would ask if I was okay and I would get straight up and tuck back into the fillet steak she was setting. If there was one thing I didn't need to finesse it was falling. I'd done plenty of that up to now and I foresaw plenty more in the future.
I panted heavily after the crossovers, but, NO BREAKS! The endurance-testing seven course meal that this lesson was emulating continued onto its next course with continuous outside 3 turns, both directions... N.O. B.R.E.A.K.S.
One 3 turn was fairly easy for me these days, but my continuous 3 turns were more barebone than functional. To make matters worse, the Tammasaurus wanted them done in the waltz 3 style. This was like trying an alternative Indian takeaway place to your regular one: you order your favourite curry only to discover they make it in an entirely different fashion. I had no idea what the waltz 3 was so she demonstrated: standard outside 3 turn then swap your free leg onto the ice while using the former skating leg to make a small half circle pump on the ice, which you then lift into a nice, long leg extension and hold for a moment. Bring the extended leg back down and step onto it to return your facing to forwards. Do the next 3 turn, foot swap, leg lift, repeat.
Much like the endless British debate on the order in which to apply jam and cream to scones before eating, I got decidedly confused as we went round and there were several false starts as I tried to get all the components in the correct order. Despite this, the Tammasaurus continued to add ingredients and spices as we went along:
"... keep your arms out in an L-shape and try not to move them... straighten your skating leg more as you do the 3 turn... make sure you pump the foot on the ice before you lift into the extension after the turn... bring the extension leg back close to your skating leg before swapping back to forwards, instead of stepping really far into forwards... turn your head before stepping to forwards to start the next 3 turn."
The exercise was dizzying and not just because I was constantly doing 3 turns round the centre of the rink. Oh and the other way round? Yeh, that was even worse. At this point, I hoped that just making it through all the courses would prove my potential as a good student!
My legs were like lead, but the adrenaline of my first one-on-one lesson kept me upright. You'd think we'd be over, BUT NO, there were still at least two more courses to come. Also...
Background: I'd just set up my first one-on-one lesson with the Tammasaurus. Some called me insane, the others were taking bets on how long I'd survive...
This is a rather long post, I apologise for that, but if you want a taste of what my first private lesson was like then I recommend consuming the whole thing in one sitting - that's right, the food metaphor has already begun - as my first lesson proved to be a similar feat of endurance.
-------------------------
Sweat poured off my face, my hair was already soaked and I was beet red as I puffed for breath in the middle of the rink. I hoped, in that instance, that I could've been described as a "hot mess", but I've long suspected that my hair drenched in sweat doesn't look in any way as sexy as it can do on some people.
Side note - At this point, I was going to illustrate the above description with a picture of some good-looking, sweaty-haired man and a not-so-witty caption about how I looked nothing like as good, but then I realised I was Google image searching "sweaty man hair" and was like "WHY AM I DOING THIS AGAIN?" (Someone tell me we've all been there...? PLEASE, SOMEONE!)
ANYWAY...
The group lessons I'd had in the past didn't even compare to the workout the Tammasaurus had just given me. In group, you are given an exercise to get on with and you kinda meander around practising it as you fancy. The coach wanders around and visits everyone to check how you're all getting along, so you can kinda slack off if you're tired or want a break to think about how to execute the devilish move you're supposed to be doing beautifully. There's plenty of time to chip away at the exercise quietly in your own way without feeling judged for your bad efforts - pressure is, overall, pretty low, and that can be a perk for many people.
My first experience of one-on-one lessons was an entirely different kettle of fish. The Tammasaurus was no-nonsense, all-business and relentless in her teaching. She initially skated around casually with me, which lulled me into a false sense of security. I was about to endure a multi-course meal and this stage was her showing me to the table; a table that came equipped with no less than seven sets of cutlery laid out in preparation for all the courses. She passed me the menu and asked me what my goals were, to which I wasn't really sure what to say. I explained that I felt I'd exhausted the group class curriculum and wanted to go beyond that, whatever "beyond that" was. I might as well have just loftily said "let chef decide!"
We started with warm up exercises. The Tammasaurus laid before me forward and backward cross rolls as her entrée of choice, with forward and backward slaloms as the accompanying palette cleanser.
I liked forward cross rolls a lot (still do!), so I demonstrated my wide sweeping forward cross rolls with pride, however she immediately grabbed the salt & pepper pots to start seasoning my technique:
"...push off the skating edge more as you swap foot... keep your leg lower as you swing round... rotate your hips more with the movement... keep your arms level and try not to move them as much."
She delivered her comments with technical precision, accompanied with her own demonstration whenever my confused face betrayed my lack of comprehension - it was a master class for my novice skills!
My cross rolls weren't fundamentally wrong in any way, they just needed fine tuning to smooth them out more; after all, figure skating is mostly about making everything look nice. A drizzle of gravy here, a dash of herbs there... You'd be amazed how many layers of finery and complexity a coach can heap on an exercise you thought you had nailed down. We got to the backward cross rolls and I bashfully explained that I was still just stepping them in to get them going, as opposed to just launching straight into the gliding; mercifully she seemed unfazed.
The forward slaloms were okay, but when it came to the backward ones then, honestly, it was a bit like I'd ordered the fancy-sounding item on the menu to look sophisticated, even though I hadn't the faintest what it was. I'd never done backward slaloms before, and I knew I could've asked for a demonstration, but I figured they were something I could just guess at as we went along. I poked at them cautiously to get used to the taste and managed to finish them better than I thought I would. The Tammasaurus continued to appear unfussed by any semblance of my competence (or lack thereof); a true professional!
The whole time I was skating I felt like I'd never been under so much pressure in my short skating career, all self-applied I should add. I wanted to do well and demonstrate some modicum of ability - she taught a lot of excellent, young skaters and, while I knew I wouldn't be measured against their standard, I still wanted to aspire to it, however unattainable it really was for an adult skater. Pressure was also being slathered on with a butter knife just by the sheer nature of one-on-one teaching. It was just as intense as when someone just sits and watches you while you're eating a meal - kinda odd and unsettling all at the same time. Little corrections and prompts were delivered as I was skating - there was no hiding the bad attempts here.
I tried to dab the stains of the entrée from my mouth as we moved on, but there were no breaks; proceed past Go, do not collect £200. The Tammasaurus produced before me crossovers for the first and second main courses, forward and back, clockwise and anticlockwise... have I mentioned no breaks?
The Tammasaurus reached for the hot sauce on my forward crossovers: more knee bend; upper body twisted more into the circle; more lean into the circle; hold the glide on each foot longer before transitioning to the other; arms needed to be stretched an insane distance apart (try reaching your arms as far apart as possible, then twist your upper body, bend your legs and imagine they're motoring away underneath you). They were still the crossovers I knew from group lessons, but the hot sauce made them leaner, more aggressive, more powerful, more efficient. Backward had a similar list of improvements. As with the cross rolls, I didn't come out feeling that my crossovers were fundamentally incorrect, just that layers were being added for a higher standard. To continue the meal analogy, it was like I'd been cooking my casseroles for just two hours and she was now showing me the richness of the eight hour, slow-cooked version.
My poor legs didn't care much for finesse or higher standards though, the strain of focusing while holding moves for longer, all the time under the rapt attention of the Tammasaurus, had them on fire as I struggled to hold the aggressive crossover stance without slipping. Tumbles were had - food spilled all over my napkin - she would ask if I was okay and I would get straight up and tuck back into the fillet steak she was setting. If there was one thing I didn't need to finesse it was falling. I'd done plenty of that up to now and I foresaw plenty more in the future.
I panted heavily after the crossovers, but, NO BREAKS! The endurance-testing seven course meal that this lesson was emulating continued onto its next course with continuous outside 3 turns, both directions... N.O. B.R.E.A.K.S.
One 3 turn was fairly easy for me these days, but my continuous 3 turns were more barebone than functional. To make matters worse, the Tammasaurus wanted them done in the waltz 3 style. This was like trying an alternative Indian takeaway place to your regular one: you order your favourite curry only to discover they make it in an entirely different fashion. I had no idea what the waltz 3 was so she demonstrated: standard outside 3 turn then swap your free leg onto the ice while using the former skating leg to make a small half circle pump on the ice, which you then lift into a nice, long leg extension and hold for a moment. Bring the extended leg back down and step onto it to return your facing to forwards. Do the next 3 turn, foot swap, leg lift, repeat.
Much like the endless British debate on the order in which to apply jam and cream to scones before eating, I got decidedly confused as we went round and there were several false starts as I tried to get all the components in the correct order. Despite this, the Tammasaurus continued to add ingredients and spices as we went along:
"... keep your arms out in an L-shape and try not to move them... straighten your skating leg more as you do the 3 turn... make sure you pump the foot on the ice before you lift into the extension after the turn... bring the extension leg back close to your skating leg before swapping back to forwards, instead of stepping really far into forwards... turn your head before stepping to forwards to start the next 3 turn."
The exercise was dizzying and not just because I was constantly doing 3 turns round the centre of the rink. Oh and the other way round? Yeh, that was even worse. At this point, I hoped that just making it through all the courses would prove my potential as a good student!
My legs were like lead, but the adrenaline of my first one-on-one lesson kept me upright. You'd think we'd be over, BUT NO, there were still at least two more courses to come. Also...
NO BREAKS!
JUMPS! I didn't care how much my legs hated me right now, we'd reached the desserts and I opened up my dessert stomach specially for them; I was brimming with excitement. She didn't bring out the soufflé for me just yet, we did the 3 jump instead, which is more like vanilla ice cream, plus I'd tinkered with it before. We ran through it from standing a few times and talked about the correct order to get your arms in when doing it: arms behind you before the jump, then swing them through together with free leg as you leapt, then bring them in to your chest in the air, then back out and to the sides for the landing - it was simple enough, but I was screwing it up anyway when trying to do it all in time with the jump itself.
Why stop there though? The Tammasaurus reached for the crunchy, metal ball sprinkles and added backward crossovers before the jump as well, which was all new to me. The crossovers gave the jump entry more speed, which was harder to control, but also contained complexities in how to transition from backwards to forwards in order to enter the jump (you'd be amazed what a difference how you bring your arms round and turn your head in the step-to-forward transition can make to the chances of doing the jump properly). I stumbled my way through, it was clunky, but I was jumping so I didn't care.
Why stop there though? The Tammasaurus reached for the crunchy, metal ball sprinkles and added backward crossovers before the jump as well, which was all new to me. The crossovers gave the jump entry more speed, which was harder to control, but also contained complexities in how to transition from backwards to forwards in order to enter the jump (you'd be amazed what a difference how you bring your arms round and turn your head in the step-to-forward transition can make to the chances of doing the jump properly). I stumbled my way through, it was clunky, but I was jumping so I didn't care.
BREAKS? THERE WILL BE NONE.
"To finish, we'll look at your spins."
To finish? I'd assumed that there were still many more desserts to come, we'd only been going about fifteen minutes after all... I looked up at the rink clock and was stunned to discover we were in fact already coming up on the end of the half hour lesson time. I was baffled at how fast the session had blown by. We'd covered a huge amount of stuff and I now had so much to practise; the lesson focus was incredibly intense!
We did do spins, but the first rule about my spins is that we don't talk about my spins.
And then it was all over! The Tammasaurus tentatively asked if I'd like another lesson next week. Having just experienced the tour de force that was the Michelin star dining experience of le Restaurant Tammasaure, I eagerly made a reservation for next week. She finished off by saying she wanted to get me the awe inspiring, but also terrifying, 'R' word: a routine. I was ecstatic but too exhausted to show it at the time so I thanked her for the lesson and skated away to collapse somewhere.
While recovering, I gushed enthusiastically to the group lesson skater friends about how good my lesson had been. The pacing had been insane, and the focus intense, but I'd loved it, every minute. I had been challenged and came out exhausted, but it had been so much more productive and useful for me than group lessons. I had some serious work to be getting on with, but first... TIME TO BREAK, AT LAST!
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