I Found My Inner Champion
Finding My Footing
Once I acknowledged the little successes, I began to notice how strong I was getting. I could see more definition in my arms from holding them out, and my abs were flatter from standing tall after the first week. At the end of week two, my size 8 clothing was loose on me.
I was getting mentally tougher too. At times, I didn't think I'd be able to skate, let alone perform, when the cameras rolled. Peter and Michael Vernon, the ballet coach, would discuss my flaws and missteps out loud. They were brutally honest. "Her posture is terrible," one would say. "Yes," the other would reply, "and she's not getting that spin in the middle right, either." But the criticism was tempered with support. The first time I fell I was mortified, but Peter wasn't concerned. "Every skater falls," he said. "Try again." So I did.
At one point, though, the show's director wanted to insert a complicated footwork sequence into my routine. I told him, "No way, that will take months to learn." Fear -- of failure and humiliation -- had me ready to bag it before I even tried. Peter looked at me like I was crazy and started to break down the sequence. Too intimidated to pull a diva act, I followed along, stumbling over the steps. Before long I was doing it; today it's one of my favorite little moves. Later that night at home, I wondered what would have happened if I had thrown a hissy fit. Peter probably would've shrugged and moved on. It struck me that my mom was right: When you give up, you only hurt yourself. I was glad I took the risk.
Leaps of Confidence
During all this, I still had to show up for work, bruised knees and achy muscles be damned. You might think I'd be dragging my butt and just going through the motions, but a curious thing happened: I got better at my job. On the ice, I had to know exactly what Peter expected from me. I quickly learned that keeping my mouth shut because I was worried about looking stupid caused confusion and delay, and we didn't have a minute to waste. So I kept asking until I got it. Incorporating this newfound doggedness into my daily life helped me land a big account. As I was pulling together my proposal, I called the client several times to make sure my ideas were meshing with his. Afterward he said, "She knows how to follow directions." Before I would have preferred "she's brilliant and creative," but now I knew the importance of the minute detail. I was happy to take substance over flash.
