Life of the Lintee Bean

I started Hockey 101 classes. I’ve been a hockey fan for years, but this was the first time I’d donned the equipment myself. In fact, I’ve rarely put on skates.  I’ve gone to ice rinks a few times, and slowly circled the ice, but this was definitely a new experience.  Hockey 101 was advertised as “for total beginners; adults who would love to learn how to play the great game of ice hockey but have never skated before.”  I’m an adult, and I’ve barely skated before, I figured the class was perfect.

I drove to the rink with butterflies in my stomach. I picked up a few last-minute things, and headed to the locker room. About 20 minutes later, I was exhausted and sweaty, but I had my hockey equipment on. I got on the ice (after the assistant instructor showed me where the door was). I started skating. I muddled around the ice trying to hold my stick over my head or behind my back as the instructor called out instructions and other students whipped around me. None of my fellow classmates looked like they’d “never skated before”. My feet ached and protested being in ice skates.

Then we started drills. The first drill was to skate at top speed across the ice, five at a time. After watching me crash into the boards and fall on the ice several times, the instructor decided we should practice stops. He said if we didn’t know “hockey stops” (looking at me) we could push out with our ankles, forming a triangle.

After stop drills, we moved on to turns. The instructor put out little safety cones that we were  to skate around. First time out, I fell, hitting the cone and sending it flying across the ice. My fellow students skated around my prone body and flailing stick. Next time out, I fell… but I didn’t take out the cone. Third time, I didn’t fall! I was super impressed with myself.

We continued with various skating and puck-handling drills. I thought I’d die. I was panting and sweat was pouring off of me, probably hitting any classmates unfortunate enough to skate behind me. All the aches and pains from my falls had taken my mind off my feet.

The last 13 minutes were scrimmage, two teams of two five-person lines. I was in the second line so I’d have a minute to catch my breath. The guys on my line asked which position I played. I just stared at them and said “I’m going to be lying prone on the ice, it really doesn’t matter what position I am.” They decided I’d be right wing.

If you’ve ever watched hockey, you’ve seen the players change shifts by leaping over the boards between the bench and the ice. The first whistle blew, and I went over the boards – and fell on the ice. By my third shift, I decided I’d do my teammates on the first line a favor and open the door so they could go through it (after I did, of course).

After class, I struggled to the locker room.  I rested a few minutes, then started removing all my equipment.  I changed into a t-shirt and pants that weren’t drenched in sweat. I drug my huge bag of equipment and sticks out to the car and heaved them into the trunk and back seat. I collapsed into the driver’s seat.

I sat there for a few minutes, thinking about how really awful and exhausting that was.  I’m absolutely the worst in class, and probably the oldest by ten years.  I hurt all over. Professional hockey players’ injuries are vaguely described as “lower body”, “upper body”, or “concussion”.  I think I had all three.  That was an hour of pain and agony… and I LOVED IT.

Submitted for publication in the Greeley Citizen