Greatness Hangs by the Edge of a Blade.*

I love ice skating.  To some it is mere spectacle, a sport that cherishes the prima donna who somehow winds up the darling of an entire nation.  I don't know why I've always been so fixated by it.  I mean, why should I uphold a sport that judges greatness by the edge of a blade?

There must be a part of me that empathizes with the sport.  Only I skate not under the banner of Olympic glory, but this stage called Life.  The judge?  My Father, who--talk about scandal--is quick to award a perfect 10.  Even if that triple triple combination doesn't quite work out.

Important thing is, I have to keep getting up.  And sometimes, darn it, I fall hard.  I lose confidence.  But I have the Judge's favor.  And there's no other applause that can top that.

*inspired by Torino 2006