The Making of Champions

Last night, I woke up at midnight so I HAD to get up to watch the finals of the Olympic figure skating competition.

I had taped it from 11:00pm my time, so I turned on the television, quickly muted it and turned my head so as not to see the screen just in case they were still airing the event and would spoil the news for me, immediately queued the tape to roll and was able to catch the final flight of contenders.

OK, I'll admit it.

By the time I was eight years old, I was a winter rink rat.

That's right.

Through my teen years, I practically lived at the local outdoor skating rinks.

And I loved watching figure skating on television.  I would fantasize that it was me on that ice, wearing those fabulous outfits and gliding around the rink doing all those magnificent jumps and twirls. (If only we hadn't been so poor?)

Practice eventually allowed me to master a good number of tricks but I never did manage jumps and twirls with any kind of grace.

But I was a skater.

I had my little chickadee in skates from the time she could walk (well, OK, she walked at nine months so maybe I waited 'til she was two years old).

By the time my little chickadee had mastered skating, we had established an 'annual event' of seeing if we could skate the length of the Ottawa canal (we did it more than a few times).

Even when I grew bunions and skating became increasingly difficult, I kept at it, incorporating various solutions to deal with the pain.

Following my bunion removal surgery, my wider-foot molded skates didn't allow me to skate for any great length of time but I persevered.

My sister and I used to meet for coffee before taking the bus together for our commute to work, and I recall having convinced her that we should take advantage of our proximity to the canal and perhaps get off the bus and skate the last distance to our offices.

Silly girl.

She agreed.

Trouble was, she hadn't skated in many years.

Fortunately, there are change huts situated along the canal.

We didn't get very far before she had to stop and change back into her boots.

Her heels were bleeding.

Right through the leather skates!

It was not pretty.

So, I skated the distance rather slowly as she limped along.

We didn't attempt it a second time.

But I did then leave my skates at the office and would occasionally meet a friend for a quick skate on the canal at lunchtime if my workday allowed for it.

Eventually, I had to hang up my blades because I simply could no longer tolerate the pressure of the skate on my foot.

Still can't, almost 30 years after the surgery (and obviously, there are now a whole lot of other barriers to my strapping on a pair of skates).

But I still love to watch figure skating.

I guess I'm still living my dream through those young women.

Last week, when the Canadian pair won gold in the ice dancing competition, I watched their skate and saw them bask in their much-deserved glory.

It was especially thrilling to see them belt out the Canadian anthem with such pride during the medal ceremony.  They were truly excited to be there and deservedly so.

Their unabashed joy in their achievement was palpable.

Scott Moir and Tessa Virtue displayed such youthful bubble on their win, I was giddy with joy for them.

And it was delightful to witness the two interact with the press and each other.

Yet when they interviewed on CTV following their win, clutching their coveted gold medals, they displayed the maturity that got them where they were sitting that morning.

And still, the pair's love of fun and having a good time together shone through.

They already know, at such a young age, that you have to work hard and stay focused when it matters, but it's still important to have fun and enjoy what you do.

That's what makes them champions.

Then, two nights ago, I watched Joannie Rochette skate her short program in the Ladies' Figure Skating competition.

The fact that she skated at all is a testament to her focus and commitment to the sport.

But when she finished her program, there wasn't a dry eye in the place because it was evident how very emotional it had been for her to have skated at all.

Her pain was palpable and I and most everyone else cried along with her as the tears streamed down her face.

Last night, I again woke to watch her skate the long program.

Her performance wasn't 'brilliant' by any measure; she in fact failed to land one of her early jumps cleanly.

But she still managed to hang on and complete the rest of the skate flawlessly.

She placed third overall, which is exactly where she had placed after the short program. 

She had a bronze medal and the crowd went wild.

I could not believe her poise and grace as she took her final bows, picked up a stuffed animal that had been thrown on the ice, and waved to the crowd.

What amazes me even more than anything about this young woman, is the television interview she did following her win.

When asked what she was thinking when the Olympic medal was placed around her neck, she said words to the effect of, "I was thinking how happy I was that I had won, but how sad I was that there was one person not in the stands beside my father to see it."

How Joannie Rochette managed to skate both her programs in the days following her loss I truly get.

She is a disciplined athlete and has trained for her Olympic moment all her life.

This was her life's goal and her mother had been her driving force.

She was motivated to complete what she started, both for herself and for her mother's memory.

That I understand.

I couldn't do it but I certainly understand how she did. 

What I don't understand is how she managed to hold herself together to conduct that CTV interview, discussing the joy of the win as well as her great personal loss, without losing her composure.

She talked openly about her close relationship with her mother and how she herself had been too tired to join her parents for dinner the evening they had arrived in Vancouver.  She begged off, saying she was too tired; she would see them the following morning.

"Of course," she said, "that never happened."

I was crying just watching the interview (OK, I cry with Oprah lately but that's a whole other discussion) and she wasn't even holding a kleenex!

Joannie Rochette has learned, at such a tender age, that no matter what life throws your way, you have to stay focused and work hard if you want to achieve your goal.

That she found the personal inner strength to maintain that focus and continue working that hard for a television interview just blows me away.

Obviously, that's what makes her a champion.