Morning Madness

November 20, 2007

alarm-clock.jpg

(Note: This installment is dedicated to all the coaches who subject themselves to the Before-School Shift, a concept surely invented by a madman, or Lucifer himself.)

I am a wimp. I only coach one early morning per week, Wednesdays. One season, I scheduled lessons on Friday mornings, as well, and it just about killed me. Several of my colleagues rise at the crack of dawn three, four, five times per week. I’ll never understand how they do this. I suspect that, despite how human they seem, they are in fact robots specifically programmed to coach at ungodly hours, to also coach later in the day, and, to do all of this, miraculously, with their eyes open.

The reason to go in early is that the sessions are less crowded. Skaters can actually fit in a run-through of their program or an entire pattern of a dance. They can even skate the Spirals from the Novice Moves without beheading anyone or spraining their own necks trying to see who is behind them.

Okay, the main reason to go in early is that, strangely, some skaters want to take lessons at this time! This is also difficult for me to comprehend. When I was a kid, there wouldn’t have been enough money or chocolate to coax me to the rink before school. Granted, I skated early every Saturday and Sunday of my young life, which severely impacted my visibility on the slumber party circuit, took me out of the Saturday morning cartoon loop, and to repeat a refrain from above, just about killed me.

I’ve learned that there really are two kinds of people in this world – night owls and early birds – and it’s pretty obvious which category I’m in. Believe me, I’d go to sleep earlier if I could, but there’s so much to get done (both petty and profound) and insomnia has long been a loyal companion.

If Early Morning Coaching were a reality show, the producers would probably assign us three extreme, nearly-impossible challenges: Getting Up, Getting to the Rink, and Coaching Coherently. Here is what the viewing audience might see, in my case.  

Challenge One: Getting up.

I have proven that I am incapable of using the so-called “snooze button” responsibly, therefore, I no longer purchase alarm clocks that offer this function. Instead, I set two alarms, 10 minutes apart and place them across the room so that, in order to stop their screeching, I have to actually stand up and take a few zombie-like steps. But after that first alarm rings at 5 AM, I promptly re-bury myself under the covers deep enough for a whole winter’s hibernation or, at least several more hours of slumber. After all, it’s so cold outside that bed, and the rink is at least 75 times colder.

Of course, sleep turns out be impossible since my brain is busy cataloguing legitimate reasons to cancel. Perhaps the weather is too bad (this may require a peek out the window). Perhaps all the north-bound streets in New York City are randomly closed. Maybe my garage guy has lost my car keys. Unable to come up with anything external that will get me off the hook, I decide each and every Wednesday morning that… I just can’t do it. Plain and simple.

Next, I compose a mental list of the phone calls I need to make. The problem is that my commute is longer than any of my students’ so even my first student probably isn’t awake yet and my later students won’t be up for hours. I imagine groggy, confused parents croaking the word, “Hello?” into the phone so I can tell them, “I just can’t do it.” In order to avoid waking them up, I plan to make one cancellation call every half hour. It takes me a few moments to realize that this means I definitely won’t get back to sleep. And right about now, it also starts to dawn on me how ridiculous my excuse is.

I eventually admit to myself that it’s easier to just go in. But, still, I am unable to get up. The only way I manage to finally get out of bed (and turn off that other alarm before it rings) would make Homer Simpson very proud: in my mind’s eye, I dangle a donut.

Challenge Two: Getting to the rink.

The good news is that it doesn’t matter what you wear in this business since it’s just going to get covered in several layers of fleece, Gore-tex, and down-feather coats, anyway. For the record, I’ve never worn my pajamas to the rink, but I have contemplated it. The only form of primping I can manage is deciding which baseball cap I’m going to hide under. I live in the illusion that this disguises how tired I look (and if not, please don’t burst my bubble.)

It’s weird how empty the sidewalks of New York are at this hour. It’s dark, quiet, and downright eerie: I swiftly cross the street and sneak around the block toward my garage with my eyes darting around nervously. In the three years I’ve lived in the city, I’ve only had one slightly distressing early-morning incident and this wasn’t nearly as harrowing as the time, back in the suburbs, I had a pre-dawn stare-down with a skunk.

I am fortunate that, as a customer of an indoor garage, I never have to warm up my car or scrape snow off the windshield. Though, sometimes I do have to wake up the attendant by pressing the obnoxious buzzer. If that doesn’t work, I call the garage phone located directly beside his ear. As he stumbles toward the security gate, I greet him apologetically and we both shake our heads, in mutual misery.

Once in my car, I ponder two things. 1) Who are all those people in the diner on the corner? Have they gotten up early just to beat the omelete rush or have they been partying all night? And: 2) Though the sidewalks are empty, the streets are teeming  with traffic. Who are all these crazy people on the roads already and what could possibly be so important that they need to be getting to it this early?  

To describe my state once I am out on the highway, I must once again conjure the image of Homer Simpson, who is prone to falling asleep at the wheel. In one episode, his eyelids slowly close as his car transforms into a plush, four-poster bed carried along on the wings of angels…

Thankfully, I’ve never dozed off while driving, but I have to constantly and vigilantly resist it. One of the ways I do so is by striking up the old Coffee Debate: Will I or will I not purchase it? And then: What size? And after that: Will I really indulge in a donut? I believe that coffee is unhealthy, so I’m not proud of this addiction. The styrofoam it’s served in is horrible for the environment. And, really, I need a donut about as bad as I need to install a spare tire around my waist, an eventuality to which a donut is only going to contribute. Then again, don’t I deserve some kind of reward for getting up this early?

Results: My car makes a right turn into Dunkin’ Donuts 100% of the time. I order a medium coffee without fail. I add a donut to my order about 1 out of 10 Wednesday mornings and gobble it down voraciously, messily, and guiltily before I even pull out of the parking lot.

Challenge Three: Coaching Coherently

Upon entering the rink, I make the morning’s first attempt at a smile. My target is the zamboni driver who seems to be in a trance at the front desk. The bags under his eyes are almost as large as mine. While lacing up my skates and chit chatting with whomever else is on the benches, I pretend I am awake. I pretend I am chipper. I pretend I am happy to be at the rink.

Once on the ice, I groan along with the sparse collection of other coaches, who would like me to believe they are struggling with this early hour as much as I am (and which is surely not the case.) We engage in a camaraderie that I’m only be able to fully appreciate after I open the little tab on my coffee cup and take exactly four swigs.

Fortunately, music is already playing. I have instructed my first two students that, on Wednesdays, they are not just skaters but also DJs. I don’t care what this music is, as long as it’s pumping loudly throughout the arena (and it’s not ice dance music). They happily oblige by queuing up the playlists on their ipods. The combination of music, caffeine, and the expectation that I am supposed to be a source of information is what finally snaps me fully awake.

Thus, the teaching begins. I find that, usually, the skaters are in much better shape than I (in more ways than one.) If, every once in a while, they complain about how tired they are, I look at them incredulously and take a few more sips of coffee. “Are you kidding me?” I cry with exaggeration. “This is the best time of the day! Are you saying you don’t love this as much as I do? This is the first day of the rest of our lives and we have the honor of starting it off in this beautiful rink!” 

I rattle off a few more lies before I notice that they can see right through me. I might as well come clean. “Yup,”  I back-peddle. “I know. This early morning stuff stinks.” I gesture toward the rink with my mitten.  “…But at least we have clear ice?” On this point, they agree with me, and head out to skate upon it. I drink yet more coffee and embark upon what usually turns out to be, despite all the resistance and all the pain, some of the most productive lessons of the week.

                                                                     ***

Do you have any tips on surviving Early Morning Coaching for the rest of us? Please advise.

Note the newest CSOM addition: I have written a few articles for icenetwork.com and you can link to them, over there, in the column to the right.

Thanks for reading and Happy Thanksgiving.   

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13 Responses to “Morning Madness”

  1. BA Says:

    I do not have any tips on surviving early morning coaching, but I can tell you my way of surviving early morning skating was keeping myself as warm as possible both before getting to the rink as well as once on the ice. Somehow that helped me feel at least somewhat like I was still snug in my bed with the rest of the world! Happy Thanksgiving!

  2. Spicedaddy Says:

    Having witnessed you in action at 6am, Jocelyn, you had me fooled. I, for one, don’t do nearly as well as you do at disguising what I call the MORNING MEANIES! (says moi, who before skating each AM has to drink a brand of coffee called “Deadman’s Reach: Served in Bed Wakes the Dead”, whch I buy in bulk at the only shop in the tri-state area that sells it, in the East Village. Hmmm, East Village…perhaps it is so strong that it is a controlled substance, hence why it is sold only there!)

  3. lori lee Says:

    I got nuttin’ for ya Jocelyn. If I could learn to wind down, turn off, tune out and get some sleep at a reasonable hour of the evening, then I know I’d be much better at the “faking it” on the rink on the early sessions. My holistic doc just recommended L-Threonine…..I’ll keep you posted. In the meantime, see you on the ice!

  4. Mark Says:

    This gets me outta bed: The alternative is sleeping ’til 7:00 and then going to a job at an office. Couldn’t bear it…

  5. sarah Says:

    aha! i knew it! coaches are people too! haha (well, some of them…)
    good to know that you get as miserable as we do on those dreadful (and oh so strangely productive) mornings! i think all figure skaters should buy stock in dunkin donuts, they strategically place them in close proximity to every rink in the area!
    happy thanksgiving!

  6. Jesse Says:

    The very first time I had to get up early to go practice at 5AM, I must have been 6 yrs old. My Mother says the night before, why don’t you sleep in your skating clothes so you can sleep to the very last second and you can even put on your skates in the car to save some more time. Then she says, maybe you should just sleep in your skates too.
    True Story!!!

  7. peanut Says:

    I laughed so much at this post that I cried! You’re a very good writer. I have no tips for you though, sorry. Coffee sounds good.

  8. sony Says:

    ahh….the joys of early a.m. coaching. really enjoyed this blog! music w/ good vibe is essential. getting up and out the door super early does have a erie feeling about it. always check the weather the night before and lay out what you intend to wear. also turn on the lights when the alarm goes off and as difficult as it sounds, take 10 min to listen to the news/ traffic on the radio or tv, LIGHTS ON, have a cup of tea. if commuting, take a tea in the car and coffee or espresso-up when closer. also consider a cup soy milk/ soy latte, the protein from the soy is beneficial with out filling you up at that hour.

  9. DVJ Says:

    Happy Thanksgiving Jocelyn!
    I laughed so much after reading this past post….good God,I am so happy I dont do early morning teaching anymore.It really is tough but you are so correct to mention how productive the a.m. ice time is…and profitable.
    I,too ,was a frequent visitor to Dunkin Donuts for the a.m. sessions and I ,too struggled with the donut or no donut decision.Sometimes I would get a muffin and feel very good about myself but really the calories are the same!

  10. Martina Says:

    If I had to teach early in the morning I would definitely be wearing my PJ’s sleep-walking and drinking lots of coffee. Preferably something stronger than Dunkin but weaker than Starbucks. Kudos to the morning crew of coaches.

  11. Ann-Marie Says:

    You can try what my brother used to do for our 6am practices…as the sun was peeking out, he would play Cat Stevens’ “Morning Has Broken” on his portable CD player. It always made me laugh and wake up!

  12. nancy Says:

    I also hate the dreaded 6:00 am practices. I even trained my own children to sleep late in the morning after having to get for a 5:00 am practice when I was in training (I am from the olden days of school figures). Then, low and behold, I started having students who needed to skate early in the am. I have now resorted to taking half a sleeping pill early in the evening so that I can unwind and get some sleep. It seems to help. Oh, the wonders of modern medicine!


  13. […] tale of woah. In last year’s post entitled, “Morning Madness,” (to read, click here), I detailed my extreme difficulty with the morning shift. While some people seem to coach at the […]

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