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Childhood Recollection
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I had an intersting childhood, to say the least. I started taking private skating lessons at age 3, and a few months later I began a ten year spree of success and isolation that would ultimately become a great source of pride and sadness for me.
At the age of 8, I had already qualified for the national circuit. By 12, I was ranked 12th in the nation in two separate categories, and by 13, my childhood had passed me by. During my ten year skating "career" I basically lived in a skating rink. From 4pm, directly after school, until 9pm, 5 days a week; and, 10am until 2pm followed by 5pm until 7pm on the weekends.
My skating coach became a pseudo father for my real dad who was always working his ass off to support the family. My mom was really the only person I had to keep me company, with the exception of a couple other skaters equally occupied with perfection, and equally pushed by their parents to either put their heart into the sport, or walk out the door.
Hell, the first time I ever went trick or treating was when I was twelve; that's because every holiday, with the exception of Xmas, was spent in a motel room at some skating (or swimming) competition.
Ironically, for all the energy and years abandoning normal childhood experiences, I was forced to quit by my parents. You see, I was premature and always a tiny little thing, which helps with sports like gymnastics and skating. However, I started growing into my genes (I'm 5'10)and couldn't keep winning in the manner I had in the past. Therefore, my parents decided that they were spending too much money on me to have a "hobby", where as before it was alright to spend the money because it was a "sport". It's not the idea of money that bothers me. Afterall, in order to compete I sacrificed other things. For instance, I went school clothes shopping at Goodwill. But these decisions were always phrased "you can continue skating or we can go school clothes shopping at a real store"--it was a continuous test of dedication. Don't get me wrong, I am greatful for everything I receive, but when your childhood surrounds putting your whole being into a sport, and then to have all of your dedication torn from you because, out of no fault of your own, you lose that gift--it's heart breaking, and makes a young kid feel like their entire life until that point was for squat. My parents pushed for skating, and because I excelled they pushed it even harder, but the moment I lost that sense of near perfection, they tore it away.
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