potential

I used to have it once.

---

Today, I went back to the ice rink to watch a competition, a pretty big competition that I used to skate in all the time. It was surreal, just being in the same atmosphere that I had once been so comfortable in. The excessive rhinestones, the two-faced attitudes of competitive skaters and their bitchy moms...but also the beauty of it all. I felt like a fish out of water and I wanted to cry out, "I belong here! I was once that girl out there on the ice!!!"

But of course, that would just make me even more irrelevant. And I was already feeling irrelevant enough as it is. The tiny little kids I used to skate with had grown up. At 11 or 12, they were getting closer to my height and quickly surpassing any skill I ever had on the ice. These tiny, talented girls. Practically bouncing with potential and actually utilizing it, honing their talent because it was something they loved, and it could probably take them somewhere. I wanted to tell them how LUCKY they were. I wanted to tell them to hold on to it and love it as long as they could.

They spoke of such big dreams. I forgot how competitive and BIG everything was in the ice skating world...big competitions, big names, and that translates into big schools when talk of college got around. It made me feel smaller...it's a different world in there.

It was quite the fish tank. I was extremely left out. It's the worst feeling: when you're no longer relevant in a world that you were once an integral part of. When something that was once your whole life moves on without you.

I was filled with envy and regret. Watching everyone skate made me realize how much I had lost and how much I had wasted. I guess now I really know what it feels like to take something for granted, and realize too late how much it meant.

Running into my old coach only cemented this fact further. "Are you ever going to come back?" he asked, with the same tone of voice that I once feared. I knew I missed the sport, dearly. But a lot had changed; my body and lifestyle wouldn't allow for an easy transition back into this world. I wish I had at least skated for the rest of high school (do I really? This is tough). Or I wish that I had at least valued it while I had it, because by the end of it, I was ready to forget about skating. I was tired, jaded...and I needed a break. But it was laziness that changed that break into an altogether halt. Even when I knew I missed it, I didn't return.

"You were amazing." We relived some memories and talked about the old days, which made me miss it even more. Competitions, routines, music, strengths and weaknesses...it all came rushing back and I realize how much fun it really was. And now I beat myself down -- why did I throw that away? Why didn't I appreciate it at it's full value?

There's nothing I can really do now. I'm planning on lacing up my skates again, hopefully in the near future, but it'll just be a hobby. There won't be that chance for improvement, that rush for competition, that thirst for learning something new, and that satisfaction of a weary body and a lesson that pushed me hard. It'll be different but this is one of those times I feel like I'll be lucky to settle.

---

And lately I've been surrounded with so much potential like this. Running into my old tennis superstar family friend, just talking to friends, watching dancers, watching skaters. Where's my potential? Did I really waste it all, when I was younger and unaware of my own luck? Where could I be now, WHO would I be now, if I had realized so much earlier?

I guess there's a different kind of potential now. When my coach asked me what I wanted to do for a living, I told him I wanted to write, with no hesitation. But there was a quiet voice inside my head telling me it wouldn't be enough. Because I want some stronger, more expressive form of expression to be part of my life again. Maybe that's why I'm trying to run back to ice skating, or half-heartedly trying to run towards dancing. We'll see where that takes me, I guess.

If anything, this whole experience has taught me to do whatever I can to do what I love. That part of growing up -- recognize your desire, then chase it. Simple.