In my last post, I briefly mentioned my narrow escape from the parent-child hockey game. I thought I was so clever, arriving too late to suit up and play. Well, games were held both Tuesday and Thursday, and tonight was my night.
Rewind to my noon-ish workout session with my dear friend and fitness coach/sadist, Kari, who keeps me from falling off the elliptical machine and injuring myself or innocent bystanders while our children attend their homeschool PE class. This particular day, we did resistance training focused on the legs and fanny area, as well as about seven or eight thousand miles on the elliptical torture machine.
See, all this would have been fine, but for my debut as a hockey player this evening.
So even in my post work-out pain, how was it? Well, I was able to spend more time vertical on my rented skates than horizontally laying on the ice. I was able to get my stick on the puck (this is a good thing) a few times. I only wiped out a few of my own team members due to the fact that I was incapable of stopping (hockey skates don’t have the toe-pick of figure skates that I’d tried decades ago in high school). When I did spin around and fall down on my touckas, I was able to stop doing my turtle-on-its-back impersonation before the other team scored.
Other than that, it was a blast! I haven’t had as much fun making a complete fool out of myself in a long time. My daughter wasn’t completely humiliated by my valiant effort. And I definitely got a grasp of what she’s been doing the past five months.
That part was great. After months of hard work, these little superstars had the chance to get their parents out on the ice and skate circles around them. Of course, being wonderful, upstanding parents, we have spent months in the stands in various freezing arenas shouting pearls of wisdom like, “Get the puck!” So they were able to enlighten us kinesthetically about how much we really knew!
It was awesome to be so soundly beaten by a group of youngsters who had so earned the right through their consistent practice, hard work, and heartfelt competitiveness, to whomp us. My nine-year-old daughter got to play goalie and she really was great (proud mom, but she really did do an excellent job!). This was her first year and it was an incredible experience for her–and for the rest of her family.
At first I was kinda concerned about my little girl playing hockey–not a ton, because girlfriend is a toughie and can hold her own, but she is still a girl, for heaven’s sake. But when I saw the amount of padding these kids wear, I thought, there were few sports or life events that were safer for a person that age to play.
So we have been a hockey family and my participation in tonight’s festivities I suppose earns me the right to call myself a full-fledged hockey mom. I’m so grateful for the opportunity my daughter has had to be a part of this scrappy little team this season. I’ve been so pleased at the focus and self-control and loyalty and even (serious!) physical strength she’s developed in such a short period of time.
As for me, it remains to be seen whether this debut will yield any long term pains, injuries, or other character development. I’m sure there are many philosophical and spiritual issues that remain to be explored regarding this experience, but they will have to wait til another day–as will figuring out how to post some cool pictures here.
Are you a hockey parent or a (perhaps former) hockey player? I understand it gets in your blood! Or have you had the chance to have your kid’s team beat you soundly at your best game? I’d love to hear about your experiences!
For now, I’m content to let my daughter bask in the happy glow of a great game and a great season. And soon, we’ll be on to warmer weather adventures–assuming, of course, I recover from this one!