Teflon and Ice Don't Mix

For those who know me, the following post will elicit an "it's about time" comment. For the rest of you, it's probably more along the lines of "why in the world did you bother?" reaction.

I went curling last night.

Okay, that's an overstatement. Curling is an actual sport where talented individuals slide 42-pound rocks toward a target some 90+ feet away, angling for the best position after 16 stones are thrown. There are other talented individuals who race down the ice as fast as the stone, sweeping hard enough to melt the pebbled ice just so that the stone can travel farther or straighter.

Key words that make it clear that what I did last night was NOT curling: talented, slide, 90+ feet, 16 stones, race, sweeping hard.

What I did last night can best be summed up with this description: a very clumsy individual tried desperately to balance on ice while wearing TEFLON on one foot and made desperate attempts to push a stone farther than I fell. Oh, I did so-so on the sweeping, as long as the stone was travelling really, really, REALLY slowly.

To back up a bit: The Potomac Curling Club graciously held an open house last night to infect gullible idiots encourage fans of the sport to take it up.

I had done my homework. Heck, I'd been an avid curling fan since the 2006 Olympics. I have my subscription to CurlTV and spend a good deal of time at The Curling Zone and The Curling News blog. I have bought The Black Book of Curling (even if it hasn't arrived yet) and subscribed to The Curling News.

I knew it wasn't easy.

But I didn't know how hard it really was.

Three friends and I descended on the curling club (a four-sheet club that is part of a HUGE ice skating/hockey complex (three rinks!) outside of Washington, DC. I dragged them along, although they all were good sports and seemed to have a decent time despite injuries and pain.

The stretching was fine. I can stretch. I can't stretch well, but it seldom involves fearing for my life.

Then they put a slider on my shoe.

For those who have never curled, a slider is a device that attaches to your shoe so you can slide when delivering the stone. The bottom of this instrument of torture is Teflon. Let me tell you here and now, there is a huge difference between "sliding" and "putting Teflon on the bottom of your foot and removing all friction in the known universe."

Just standing became an issue. First secret I learned -- the brooms are really there to give beginning curlers something to keep them from falling over as often. Second secret I learned ... always step onto the ice with the non-slippy shoe first, and step off of the ice with the slippy shoe first.

Third secret: "thunk" is not a good sound. One friend fell at the first station (which was basically the "this is ice, that is Teflon, we're going to laugh hysterically as we watch you try to cope in a world where the two come in contact with each other"). She went from vertical to horizontal without seeming to pass through any intermediate positions. Her head went "thunk." "Thunk" is not a good sound. Fortunately, she got up quickly and rejoined the group before we got to the next station.

Fourth secret: curling is a lot easier when you're pushing two stones and not required to let go of either one of them.

At the second station, they taught us how to push off from the hack. (The hack is a small rubber thing that you put your non-slippy foot in so you can completely lose any balance you ever had.) In this exercise, we pushed off with a curling stone in each hand. I'm not good at this by any means, but I am a helluva lot better than I am pushing off with a broom and a stone, or (heaven forbid) actually having to let the stone go.

(Fifth secret: Sometimes it hurts worse when it doesn't go "thunk." At this station, while simply moving to get off the ice, another one of my group fell onto her wrist. From that point forward, she sat and watched with ice on her wrist.)

Very few of your here probably remember Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In, but they had a old-man character played by Arte Johnson who would ride a tricycle slowly, eventually falling over.

If you change the image from an old-man to a middle-aged woman, and a tricycle into a Teflon shoe, you'd get the same effect. I push off. I go a few feet (barely to the button for those who know the layout). My momentum runs out. I tip over.

This pattern changed little as I moved from the "hold on to two stones and don't let go" station to the "hold on to the stone and use your broom for balance but don't actually release the stone" station.

With this level of ineptitude skill under my belt, they actually asked me to let go of the stone.

The comparison between that old man on the trike and me became painfully obvious when we got to the "the game requires actually letting go of the stone" station.

Yeah, it worked about as well as you think it did. I think I got it to go about halfway down the ice. Maybe. Okay, I'm probably exaggerating.

(Give me credit, though. I did not -- as two of my friends did -- resort to trying the long stick thing that allows you to deliver a stone without even bending over.)

Sixth secret: sweeping isn't as hard as it looks. In fact, it was actually kind of fun and I could do it ... albeit slowly. I can actually see myself getting better at that.

At this point, the lesson ended, and the comedian running the final station (the "letting go of the rock is kinda crucial" station) invited us to join in a practice game. There was no way I was ruining the sport for anyone else.

Today? Today, I'm not nearly as sore as I thought I would be. My back's tender, and there's one small place on my thigh that's acting as though it wants to complain, but can't quite work up the energy.

So I've tried it.

And I'm going to try it again.

Yes, I was horrible at it. Yes, with my utter lack of coordination and grace, this is probably not the sport for me to participate in. Yes, I felt foolish and frustrated.

But I liked it.

So I've signed up for a three-hour course on Saturday. (And please notice that the course description starts with "safety on ice." They're kidding, of course. They're putting Teflon on your foot, putting you on the ice, then telling you to be careful.)

Saturday will probably be my "fish or cut bait" session. If I don't ever see myself pushing out from the hack and getting near the hog line, or delivering a stone over the hog line at the other end (on my sheet -- you'll notice I didn't even talk about my aim in my earlier description), I may have to rethink this. If I see even a little progress ...?

Well, let's just say you'll hear all about it right here.

Don't you feel lucky?