The surface of the ice rink glistened under the spotlights as sparkles of snow descended gently from the night sky. Students and Baltimoreans alike, regardless of their differences, united in this place for a common purpose — to simply have a good time with friends and family. As song and laughter permeated the rink, the warmth of hot chocolate melted its way into the soul, and skates carved into the ice the feeling of carefree joy. Winter at Hopkins began to feel a little less cold and lonely. But man, did my wrist hurt.
Reflexively, I had thrown out my arms to break my fall and landed directly on my left wrist. The impact resonated up to the hands and fingers, carrying a tingling, numb pain as if from the repeated pecks of a flock of ferocious blue jays. There I sat, resigned on the ice, completely overwhelmed by the wild momentum that had sent me tumbling backwards in such unspectacular fashion.
Between the discomfort and feeling of powerlessness, this was my “welcome to the Hopkins ice rink” moment. Allow me to share my story of ice skating as a complete newbie…
Shortly after the start of the spring semester of my freshman year, a good friend of mine (let’s call him S) told me about the Hopkins ice rink. As someone who had never ice skated before, yet was eager to give it a try, I made arrangements with him and another good friend (let’s call him R) to go check it out on a Friday evening. Fortunately for my inexperienced self, R and S had both skated before and were willing to show me the ropes.
After arriving and putting on the skates, a sort of muted orange color with flattened blades for safety, it was time to set foot on the ice – or so I thought. I actually needed to get used to walking with skates normally first. Ok, now we’re ready. As my blades came in contact with the ice, it felt as if I had entered a different dimension, drifting in a space where friction had left the chat, where every minute movement could snowball into a frantic avalanche.
“Hold on to the rails and go slowly,” R advised me. “Keep your center of gravity low and bend your knees.”
And so I made my first lap around the rink at a snail’s pace, and then I completed another. Around me, I observed a variety of skill levels. Some glided effortlessly like R, others navigated with steady confidence like S and a few trudged cautiously by the rails just like me. With the guidance of my friends, as well as a skating aid in the form of a blue seal, I ventured an arm’s length away from the safety of the rails and closer to the uncertainty of the center. Several shaky laps later, I had mustered the courage to trust my own balance.
R suggested putting my hands on my knees, ensuring that my center of gravity stayed low and my balance remained stable. To turn at the corners of the rink, I needed to angle my feet and let my momentum carry me naturally. I practiced, slow and steady, and gradually increased my speed. At some point, I got ahead of myself, as I tend to do, and the rest is as you already know — ouch.
When I went down with a thud, a pestering thought entered my mind that maybe I should give up on skating — maybe I’m just not cut out for it. But after a moment, I pushed it aside and reminded myself that I was just getting started. Not to mention, I was having a ton of fun. R and S came over, offered a hand and helped me up. And so I continued skating, no matter how ungracefully, with the lingering pain in my wrist as a reminder to stick to the fundamentals.
The three of us returned every week until the rink shut down for the year, and I could feel myself improving each time through a growing collection of battles with lost balance. Somewhere along the way, I realized that my experience on the ice mirrored much of what it means to be a student at Hopkins.
Let’s be real here. Hopkins is tough. There are moments when you feel like you’ve finally found your groove, only to realize that the next midterm, project or paper is already looming over the horizon. Hopkins is competitive. It’s easy to feel left behind when it seems that everyone else is perpetually on the grind to build their resumes, progress in their research and seek out internships, on top of excelling academically. But, like skating, what looks effortless from the outside is usually built on a lot of stumbling and recovery, and it’s rarely done alone.
Hopkins is the flock where real, unshakeable bonds are built. In between the stress and the constant motion, you find people who are going through it with you, and that shared connection becomes something special. Much like on the ice rink, it’s through a cycle of stumbles, adjustments and getting back up again that you grow — one stride at a time.
Andrew Wu is a sophomore majoring in Biomedical Engineering from Northville, Mich. and is a Cartoons Editor for The News-Letter.
