HP #32 - Jumps, jumps, jumps
Usual disclaimer applies: this is an old event I'm recounting. See my first HP post for the full notes on these.
Avid readers of this blog might recognise I detail myself as trying the loop jump before having done it with the Tammasaurus, when I explained in the last HP post that her and I were very much in the middle of the process of learning it together. That is because I wrote these out of order, oops!
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Practice, practice, practice. That sentiment never goes away in the endless quest for sporting perfection and it's just as true in all things ice skating. Lately, my Salchow had been coming along (probably thanks to time spent walking through it next to my work printer every time I went to do some printing) and the Tammasaurus had run through the toe loop with me. I kinda hated the toe loop, it felt like a clunky and nasty jump to do. For those unfamiliar with it then you basically just jam one of your toe picks into the ice and "vault" over that pick with your other leg as your launch off it and try and complete a full rotation before landing on the leg that did the vaulting. That's not a great description, I might do a step-by-step write up of the jumps at some point, but for now know that it doesn't feel elegant to do, particularly when compared to the silky smoothness of the Salchow, which flows in a beautifully circular way as you execute the jump.
Regardless of my opinion of it, I broadly knew how to do the toe loop and I was getting bored of practising the same things over and over, but what to do in such an instance? Well, much like a cave man with fire, I started to tinker with powers I had no idea how to control...
My first experiment was with the vaunted Axel jump. An unwise choice you'd probably think (it famously has an extra half rotation in it compared to the other jumps, therefore making it the hardest jump), but my mind broke it down as basically just a 3 jump with more power and a tighter rotation position (one I technically didn't know how to do). There was something scary about managing quite that much rotation, so I tested how much rotation I could get out of a two-footed standing jump at home. I was vaguely surprised that I almost managed two rotations so I went to the rink filled with ambition.
I started a run up. I figured that I could compensate for my lack of finesse with the rotation element by adding power to muscle through the jump, very likely an insane thought, but I've never been one for sense when trying new things. I lifted my left leg to start my entry glide and turned to forwards, my mind was racing with thoughts of "CAN'T YOU WAIT A BIT TO KILL YOURSELF?" There was absolutely no way I'd pull this off, yet I still found myself stepping to face forwards and pulling both my arms and right leg back in preparation for the take off.
I swung all my limbs through and leaped.
The next thing I remember was landing on my right skate toe pick still facing forwards. The cynical reader might assume I'd bottled it, but I can assure you that that was not the case. I had actually managed one rotation. "Not bad," I thought, "not risking that again!" was the follow up.
Pleased I'd managed one rotation (a half Axel, I later discovered was the term), I abandoned that one until I could get some supervised help and set my learning sights on a more realistic challenge that I'd watched YouTube videos on: the loop jump.
"Is that really so hard?" I thought, having watched the videos. I walked through the move on the floor at home. Seemed simple enough.
Back on the ice, I stepped through the loop with more care than I had the Axel. Left inside glide into right inside glide, right inside 3 turn, lift left leg a bit (I wasn't going to risk crossing it over) then jump off right foot. I didn't really get far on my first attempt, but two weeks later and a few more short practices and I was just about completing the rotation!
I hoped the Tammasaurus didn't disapprove of unsupervised tampering with unknown jumps...
Avid readers of this blog might recognise I detail myself as trying the loop jump before having done it with the Tammasaurus, when I explained in the last HP post that her and I were very much in the middle of the process of learning it together. That is because I wrote these out of order, oops!
-------------------------
Practice, practice, practice. That sentiment never goes away in the endless quest for sporting perfection and it's just as true in all things ice skating. Lately, my Salchow had been coming along (probably thanks to time spent walking through it next to my work printer every time I went to do some printing) and the Tammasaurus had run through the toe loop with me. I kinda hated the toe loop, it felt like a clunky and nasty jump to do. For those unfamiliar with it then you basically just jam one of your toe picks into the ice and "vault" over that pick with your other leg as your launch off it and try and complete a full rotation before landing on the leg that did the vaulting. That's not a great description, I might do a step-by-step write up of the jumps at some point, but for now know that it doesn't feel elegant to do, particularly when compared to the silky smoothness of the Salchow, which flows in a beautifully circular way as you execute the jump.
Regardless of my opinion of it, I broadly knew how to do the toe loop and I was getting bored of practising the same things over and over, but what to do in such an instance? Well, much like a cave man with fire, I started to tinker with powers I had no idea how to control...
My first experiment was with the vaunted Axel jump. An unwise choice you'd probably think (it famously has an extra half rotation in it compared to the other jumps, therefore making it the hardest jump), but my mind broke it down as basically just a 3 jump with more power and a tighter rotation position (one I technically didn't know how to do). There was something scary about managing quite that much rotation, so I tested how much rotation I could get out of a two-footed standing jump at home. I was vaguely surprised that I almost managed two rotations so I went to the rink filled with ambition.
I started a run up. I figured that I could compensate for my lack of finesse with the rotation element by adding power to muscle through the jump, very likely an insane thought, but I've never been one for sense when trying new things. I lifted my left leg to start my entry glide and turned to forwards, my mind was racing with thoughts of "CAN'T YOU WAIT A BIT TO KILL YOURSELF?" There was absolutely no way I'd pull this off, yet I still found myself stepping to face forwards and pulling both my arms and right leg back in preparation for the take off.
I swung all my limbs through and leaped.
The next thing I remember was landing on my right skate toe pick still facing forwards. The cynical reader might assume I'd bottled it, but I can assure you that that was not the case. I had actually managed one rotation. "Not bad," I thought, "not risking that again!" was the follow up.
Pleased I'd managed one rotation (a half Axel, I later discovered was the term), I abandoned that one until I could get some supervised help and set my learning sights on a more realistic challenge that I'd watched YouTube videos on: the loop jump.
"Is that really so hard?" I thought, having watched the videos. I walked through the move on the floor at home. Seemed simple enough.
Back on the ice, I stepped through the loop with more care than I had the Axel. Left inside glide into right inside glide, right inside 3 turn, lift left leg a bit (I wasn't going to risk crossing it over) then jump off right foot. I didn't really get far on my first attempt, but two weeks later and a few more short practices and I was just about completing the rotation!
I hoped the Tammasaurus didn't disapprove of unsupervised tampering with unknown jumps...
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