Skating Accessory Review: Zuca Sport bags

So my poor, long suffering husband-to-be, F, finally gave in and did it. It was my birthday last week and I woke up in the morning to find a large, lumpy shape lying next to me in my darkened bedroom, light pouring in from the hall. 

My first thought was, Oh my God. I'm in the Godfather and it's a horse's head. 

My second thought was, Oh my GOD!!!! It's a Zuca!!!

I've been having an internal battle about purchasing a Zuca for my very own, for longer than I care to admit - torn between my love of all things kitsch and over-the-top, and the generally upheld rink etiquette whereby you can only get away with a Zuca if you are a. six or b. landing at least your doubles. I am neither, therefore entertaining the thought of buying myself a Zuca was always a guilty pleasure.

So the dilemma was solved for me. Okay, yes, maybe I did send F the link to the Zuca site. And bizarrely he got directions to the skate shop from my mate Headscarf Skater, that I had given her for blade sharpening the month before! Karma. But I was still surprised and delighted to find he had for the second time in a year (the first time involved The Ring) got my present spot on!

So, to the review. Needless to say I am in love with my Zuca. For those who don't know, it is a two-part jobby (F bought mine whole from the shop) - the hard frame, which you can buy in different colours (mine's pink, as above) for around £100; and the inner bag, which is replaceable and costs around £40, and for which there are plenty of colourful designs. The frame is AMAZING - it can support up to 300lbs in weight so doubles up as a seat which is fantastic on public transport in rush hour!! You can also stack on top of it so it's brilliant for pulling your shopping home. 

The bag is durable and water-repellent, with more pockets than a magician's trousers. There is room for EVERYTHING I need to train - the bag is basically like a locker on wheels. In the main bag itself I can fit my skates, hard guards, off-ice kit including trainers, and skating kit. There is a mesh pocket at the top of the inside section, like a hammock, where I put spare socks, my gloves and legwarmers. The locker "door" also unzips leaving space for my blade chamois, and has two further inner pockets attached to it where I put my work pass and wallet. On either side of the outer part of the bag there are two large pockets (which I use for my skipping rope, program CDs and ankle supports) and two small mobile-shaped pockets, which I use for my mobile phone, rink swipecard and spare change for the metro. 

Pros of the bag are, in particular: a. it's VERY lightweight, which makes it easy to heft in and out of cars and up longer flights of stairs (for shorter staircases and kerbs, there are two sets of wheels, one on top of the other, to ease the bag up. The bottom set light up when you roll the bag and are self-generating, so no need for battery changes!). b. When you pull it, even when it's full, it feels like you're pulling nothing at all - I don't know how they did it but it's amazing! c. You always have a seat, no matter where you are; and d. it's SO roomy - just amazing what you can fit in that bad boy.

Cons: a. it doesn't handle going down kerbs or stairs as well as it does going up them, but if you take a good firm grip on the handle, it manages a lot better. b. The back of the bag (where it meets the frame at the rear) is the only place that is not double-lined and therefore if you have longer blades, like me, you'll find small holes appear at the back very quickly. Forums online suggest they don't get worse too quickly so I'm keeping an eye on them. c. The only other con I can mention is the top of the bag. You stick it to the frame with sticky-back velcro that's not so sticky, so the top can collapse away from the frame. I find it's easy to quickly re-stick but research suggests a dab of superglue might put a stop to it once and for all. 

Basically, I've not stopped smiling since the Zuca landed in my bed, and every night I have trouble relinquishing my grip on it long enough for F to prise it out of my arms and take me to bed. 

So my advice is do it. Get a Zuca. It's a controversial issue among skaters - do you have one? If not, have you thought about it? What's your opinion - super seat-bag or status symbol?

The Benefits of Practice Ice at a Competition

I’m a firm believer in as much practice ice as can be had at a competition rink. I haven’t skated a comp yet where the practice rink is not the same as the competition rink, which is why I have found it helpful. In the low number of competitions I have attended, I can compare two extremes: 1. 20 minutes practice ice, about 20 minutes before 6-minute warm up. And 2. 3-4  hours of practice ice (2 the day of the artistic, 1 the day of the freeskate, and another hour the day following the end of the free skating). Number 2 was by far, BY FAR, the better option, because it involved plenty of time.  

You need time to practice all your elements before your program. If my scratch spin is not centring, I cherish any extra time I have got for me to put my brain back in and figure out what I’m doing wrong, before I even attempt it in the program. I want to run all my jumps so I can get the technique in my head before I skate the program, because I usually concentrate so hard on my choreography that I regress my jumps. So it’s better to be on the ball beforehand. Besides. There is no way I will ever be ready to skate a program without getting the ice under my blades first. I can’t just step on to the ice and do a perfect camel. I need to warm up to it. Rest is important too, of course, but I can’t rest if I’m constantly wondering “how is my dodgy Salchow today?”. 

You need time to calm down. It’s a comp, for God’s sake. No one is ready after 20 minutes’ practice. Whatever rink it’s on. You want a good couple of hours while you are there to relax on-ice and get used to the atmosphere. Rushing increases nerves and mistakes. 

Of course, this time is predominantly important for an international (the only comps I’ve skated at) because if it’s a local comp you won’t generally have all the extra time to practice in the new town, you haven’t had to fly to a different country and it’s less of a worry if you’ve not got your gloves and your tights are laddered – you speak the language, you can blag some more. But if I was skating in a local comp, I would still take the day or the day before off work to train. Not for 8 hours, but maybe for 2, and then a nice long rest and early night. Time to calm down is important, whether you’re skating locally or internationally. I would be so uncomfortable if I didn’t skate at all before 6 minute warm-ups on the day. I need to know things are going okay, and if they’re not, have time to work out why not. 

You need time to map out your program. There is no way this can be done in 6-minute warm-ups, or from the stands. You need to get comfortable with how your program will fit on the ice, work out where the judges are sitting, where your step sequence will start and spirals end, which advert board you are facing before your camel-scratch, and skate it through until you are getting things in the right place. 6-minute warm-ups are there for warming up. Running your elements, maybe your step sequence, some transitions. You can’t work out your program on that ice. You need time. 

You need time to get ready for warm-ups. I can’t stress this enough. Warm-ups are important - the judges and “crowd” and all the other skaters are already watching. It’s your last chance to run all your elements.  And there’s nothing more you can do now to change the outcome of your program, so you just need to get some ice under your blades and prepare. If you feel cool and calm(ish) during warm-ups, chances are that’s how you’ll feel when you skate out to start your program. 

I had a bad experience in my first comp (an international – I was staying in the foreign town, but it took place in the same country I live in). This was the one where all I had was 20 minutes’ PI about 20 minutes before my warm-up group went on. I was nervous as all hell (it was my first comp, after all). I couldn’t even hold a simple spin – my muscles were in spasm. I was shaking so hard. A friend who was there but not competing took me by the arm after PI and led me to the hot chocolate stand. All fine. Suddenly I realised I’d better go and get ready. The timetabling was late as usual so I wasn’t sure of the exact time I’d be skating. I had my skate dress on, and tights and boots, as I’d worn on practice ice – but also tracksuit bottoms. 

After a trip to the Ladies’, I went to remove my trackies – and couldn’t. They wouldn’t go over my boots. I had no time and there was nothing for it but to take off my skates, then my trousers, then put my skates on again, and readjust my OTB tights. As I was putting the first boot back on again, a friend ran in to the changing rooms. “OUR WARM-UP GROUP’S ON.” “Now??” I jittered. “Now.” she confirmed, and scarpered. Oh, crikey. I was so not ready. By the time I got on ice I had about 3 minutes left and was in absolute panic mode. I fell twice, screwed up all my elements and dashed off the ice at the bell. I was shaking, out of control, unfocussed, and rushed. Rushing increases nerves and mistakes (a sentence worth repeating!). I know it was my first competition, but I was completely thrown by being late and not having skated a single move well. Needless to say, everything collapsed in my program. I two-footed A THREE JUMP. I didn’t get one rotation of my sit spin, and my final element, a scratch-spin, was the worst I’ve ever skated it.  

The next comp I went to (in Italy), I took 3 hours of practice ice for two programs (each session well in advance of the program), and a morning ice session the day after my last skate. I was so ready, it was crazy. Of course I was still nervous, but I was ready so early I couldn’t panic. I warmed up off-ice and then sat in my costume (with ZIP-LEG trackies to hand if I got too cold!!) and my club fleece and watched the Zamboni on the ice. I concentrated really hard on my breathing – very deep, slow breaths, the whole time I was waiting, not just 2 or 3. I ran through my program twice in my head, focussing on a clean skate, and then emptied my brain of all thoughts of the upcoming skate. I was first rinkside and I stayed there until warm-ups started. Every so often I’d move around and stretch gently to keep my muscles warm. At the call I skated carefully but reasonably well, nailed all my elements, took a sip of water, ran my step sequence and got off the ice. I was second to skate, and while the first skater took the ice, I went out of the nearest side door and sat waiting for her to come off, talking calmly to a friendly Ice Mum. And when I went out there, I skated well. I managed a clean program and completed all my elements. Of course I was still nervous, but I was able to focus anyway and put my fears to the back of my mind. It was 1,000,000 times better and even though I didn’t win, I was very pleased for myself – I had skated my best and I was proud of that.  

The biggest, ever, lesson, is GIVE YOURSELF TIME. You need time. If you’ve had a gentle skate and done what you needed to do, had time to plan out your program and practise your elements, and got ready well in time, you’re gonna skate well. I found that the best way of making this time is making use of your practice ice.  

And the cool-down, early ice the day after the last free skate? A wonderful chance to chill out, not work hard but enjoy skating for skating, get to know the other skaters, all sing along madly to Lady Gaga, and make use of cheap ice in a tiny Alpine village before everyone else was up. Definitely a winner. 

The Annoying Training Partner

So. We all have them. People we think will always be there to help motivate us and promote healthy competition – you know, not the kind where you put gravel in each other’s hard guards, but the kind where you think, “Her loop jump is good. Why isn’t mine? Mine needs to be at least that good. I’m going to devote a whole session to my loop jump”, etc. 

But one day you realise your training partner – the one who shares your private coach to give you a discount on lessons, the one who knocks on your door at 9pm wondering why you’re not ready for evening ice, the one who clips up your OTB tights at comps and stays at the barrier when you’re on program ice, so you’ve got one less body to look out for – is losing (or has already lost) their ice addiction.  

You know how it goes. They’ve been on a lot of holidays but don’t put the work in to make up lost ice time in between trips. They don’t take their skates on trips home. They don’t have 7500 figure skating vlogs bookmarked on youtube (OK, so they never have - we're not all MASSIVE ice geeks, IN2L2S) and they have no idea who won Worlds, even though you were there watching with them for the ladies’ programs. 

Worst of all, they stop bothering in lessons. They always have some reason why they have to sit out during off-ice (“I’ve got a consistent stomach problem (when I feel like it)”, “my ankles hurt from walking around too much at the weekend”, “my hamstring’s tight”, “I had the ‘flu 2 months ago”), and call off-ice Axels in the gym “all that jumping around”.  

Some evenings your coach gets roped in to teach a group which means you get less attention in your lesson and have to work around other people, which you duly do (you’re getting a discount, after all!) - but you notice Training Partner’s stopped joining in after footwork and is practising their camel over and over again in the corner. (A tiny evil part of you notes it’s not getting any better). When you ask TP what’s up, it’s everyone else – getting in their way, targeting them. TP NEVER jumps – out of lessons they work on spins, in lessons they get off the ice at jump-time, adjust and re-adjust their boots, stare into space, stare at your crappy flip-loop combo, drink some water, and then get on as the Zamboni’s firing up, with a faint (not-very-believable) expression of surprise that the session's ended. 

You can’t even seem to get there on time lately – when you swing by at leaving time, TP’s not ready/has fallen asleep and has no plans to hurry/is not in at all and is not answering her phone.  

In short, instead of driving you forward, TP is driving you nuts. 

What do you do in this situation? At the moment, it’s SkateMate who is having ice-nonchalance and it’s me and my coach who have to suffer. If we have a lesson together, Coach will come over to me and stay with me for as long as possible because SkateMate is being “difficult” (now don’t get me wrong, it tends to be in SM’s nature to be a bit of a stick-in-the-mud/come across as rude. But I always feel embarrassed if this happens with our coach). I hate it and I don’t know what to do. 

For the most part, I’m trying to ignore her. SM can be really churlish sometimes – off- and on-ice – and I have difficulty dealing with her. When it happens normally, I laugh it off, don’t answer or just completely ignore it and keep up my default good mood. But when SM’s in a bad mood, ain’t no-one gonna take that cloud away. And ice-wise, it’s all the time now. I’ve stopped understanding why she bothers to put her skates on at all. It’s clear she’s not interested in putting the work in any more.  

So, as I say to Coach – 95% of the time it seems best just to ignore SkateMate. I’m sure she’s looking for a rise out of me so she can be all indignant. And I don’t even like the person I am if I train with her out of lessons – I watch what she’s doing out of the corner of my eye and gripe in my head about it. “Why are you doing just your sit spin? You know your sit-spin's your best element. So why aren’t you working on your dodgy camel?” “Why have you spent half an hour on brackets when you still can’t jump a loop properly? You're always talking about how your flip jump is quite good, but you never jump and I’ve never seen you practice it!” “Your scratch spin has not improved for 6 months. You’re not holding your shoulders properly and you’re closing your legs before your arms” etc, etc. Problems arise when these gripes slip out and I start to sound rude, so, it really is best to ignore her.  After all, she’s not the important one in my training. I am, as selfish as that may sound.

 So, SkateMate, I've decided not to let you get to me. I know we'll continue our friendship off-ice but I’m not taking any more notice of you on-ice – it just distracts/annoys me. I won’t let it affect my skating. And if I think I need you on the ice to motivate me then I don’t want it enough. So I’ll happily make use of the extra coaching when you skip lessons, and skate with other friends outside. Sorry, SM. I hope you get your ice-love back.

Get Off My Ice!

My friend Headscarf Skater jokes in our training time that I need to have this slogan emblazoned on my skating top.

 

Along with a big hockey skate behind a red cross.

 

Where I train (with my coach), we have a private rink that our club use. The only people you need to look out for are higher level skaters speeding across your path on their way to a double lutz. It’s a bit like permanent patch ice, I guess, but in general there are 2-3 group lessons as well as our private 2-person lesson going on at one time. The coaches mark lines in the ice so that we have a vague patch to use and can attempt to prevent collisions.  

Out of lessons, however, it’s a different matter. We don’t have patch/freestyle ice times. Our nearest ice rink has public skating, 10am-midnight weekdays, 10am-5.45am weekends (so you can’t even use 6am ice, because the rink has just closed). This means putting up with those I unfairly call the Plebs (i.e. the general public/people in rental or paper skates/beginners –yes I know we were all there once) AS WELL AS private lessons, child prodigies speeding around doing double-doubles (this is Russia after all), dance pairs meandering around at their own will, the occasional pro- or up-and-coming-figure skater and, of course, Those-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. I am incredibly irritable when on practice ice with these people and easily distracted if they don’t give me some space (I give them theirs, fair’s fair). 

So I have decided to get this off my chest - not in the usual way (by scowling forcefully at anyone wearing hockey skates within a five-mile radius) - but by writing a letter to the imaginary personification of my least favourite type of non-figure-skater: Those-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. I’ll call him: the Hockey Goon.  

Dear Hockey Goon, 

I don’t mean to be a Snotty Figure Skater. I don’t want to give us a bad name, it’s not fair on other, more rational skaters. I’m honestly not happy about having a sore forehead at night from concentrating very hard on wishing that you’ll fall in the deep mine you’ve just gouged out of the ice, but maybe you could help me control this by learning some courtesy. 

Perhaps you could start by apologising to that small child who just bounced off the ice when you flew into them. Maybe you could even prevent that from happening next time by looking behind you when you’re charging around backwards. Perchance you could hold off on ruining our just-resurfaced rink for maybe an hour, so I can practise my spins? In a corner. Out of your way. 

Is it also inconceivable that you might give me some space when I’m jumping? Surely it’s not asking a lot. I just feel uncomfortable about taking my life into my own hands whenever I pull up into a combination and come face-to-face with Bulky the Caveman, looming into view attempting to sabotage my Salchow. Is it such a huge request that you do not give lessons to your tiny minions using up half the rink in a crowded public session? I have little space as it is. Are you specifically training them to attempt to hockey-slide into my forward camel? Because it’s not me who will come out the worse off – it’s the child with the toe pick embedded in its neck. Perhaps you could also a) not tear up the ice with your infuriatingly blunt, scratchy blades making me fall off my edges and b) not practice your stops by moving side to side, scratching up about 6 inches of ice into two piles and creating a death trap for all who skate there after you. 

If you promise to make more of an effort re: the above, I will promise to stop a)declaring loudly about how ugly your form of “skating” is, and, indeed, putting inverted commas around the word “skating” in a hockey context; b) aiming for your face with my free leg when I enter a camel for the gazillionth time because I could swear you are charging around the rink to interrupt every single entry; c) muttering about where I would put your stick if said stick was actually in your hands as opposed to you miming holding aforementioned stick in an annoying way; d) not accepting with amicability that if you choose to tie your skates that loosely it is not my problem (and I will not laugh) if you break your ankle; and d) wearing an expression that looks like I’m standing in the middle of the sewage system whenever you or one of your fellow goons is on my, sorry our, ice. 

If we can come to this agreement, I’m pretty sure the calmer, happier ice will benefit the rest of the rink as well.  

Yours, 

IN2L2S

If I ever do give this to a Hockey Goon, rest assured it will be ignored. Just like the rink rules.