The rink stretched out before us, a gleaming sheet of ice that appeared exciting and completely terrifying. My breath came out in little clouds, and the sharp cold bit at my skin. I hadn’t brought gloves, and my coat remained in the car, forgotten in my rush. My best friend, Livy, stood next to me, tying her skates with an efficiency that made me feel even more out of my depth. I fumbled with my laces, my fingers already numb from the cold. 

 

“Life begins outside of our comfort zone,” Chad Foster once said. And here I was, standing on the edge of my discomfort.

 

My mom used to be a figure skater, and for some reason, I’d convinced myself that her skills would magically pass down to me. I’d heard all about her spins and jumps growing up, and I’d assumed that stepping onto the ice would be no big deal. That illusion shattered the second my skates hit the ice. My legs turned to spaghetti, wobbling uncontrollably, and my arms flailed as I clung to the wall for dear life.

 

Little kids clipped by, some no older than five or six, moving with the confidence I’d only ever dreamed of having. One tiny girl in a bright pink jacket came out of nowhere and slammed into the wall right in front of me. She just laughed, pushed herself off, and skated away as if it meant nothing. Meanwhile, I stayed glued to the wall, gripping the edge so tightly my knuckles turned white.

 

All around us, kids my age showed off, laughing loudly and attempting tricks they hadn’t mastered. One boy, trying to impress his friends, attempted a spin but ended up sprawled out on the ice while his friends burst out laughing. I watched, feeling the heat of secondhand embarrassment, even as my anxiety kept me rooted to the wall.

 

Livy turned back to me after quickly scanning the rink. “You’ve got this,” she said, holding out her hand.

 

I shook my head and tightened my grip on the wall. The cold metal bit into my hands, but there was no way I’d let go.

 

“Come on, I’ll help you.” She said while playfully rolling her eyes at me. She grabbed my hand and started to pull gently. My skates slid a little, but my legs refused to move. 

 

“You’re not even trying,” she said, pulling me along like a sled. My face burned, partly from embarrassment and partly from the strain of staying balanced without moving my legs. A group of skaters glided past us, one spinning effortlessly before darting off. They made it seem so easy.

 

Inch by inch, Livy dragged me away from the wall. Every movement of my skates and each slight shift in the ice beneath kept me on edge. The cold had fully settled into my fingers and face, making the whole experience feel even more miserable. After what seemed like an eternity, we finally made it around one corner.

 

“See? You’re doing it!” she said, skating backward in front of me. I shook my head, still too afraid to let myself move. My knees locked in place, but I finally bent them just a little, testing the tiniest bit of motion. It wasn’t pretty, but at least it was a start.

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