This One Time…

I join my sister-in-law at her sons hockey game. Apparently, there’s a parents league that plays after the kids are done. Her team annihilates the other team. The other team never gets any new players because, well, I don’t know the reason. I can see it in their faces; the faces of defeat every week.

At the end of the game, they do a race from mid ice to see who can get to the end the fastest. My sister-in-law says I should do it. So I lace up my skates and hesitantly get on the ice. Oh man, it’s slippery! I take my place next to her and the wall at the end of the line. The bell goes off and the line of parents scramble to gain traction on the ice to propel them forward. I do the same. Soon, the fastest emerge from the starting line and I’m just behind them. I start passing parents right and left and my speed picks up. I can’t decide if I’m really slow and these parents are even slower or I’m somehow a natural when it come to speed skating.

I’m in second place, eying the first place mom who’s looking behind her. I easily skate past her and make my way full speed to the finish line (the wall). Surprised at my out-of-no-where finish, the announcer asks what team I’m part of and I answered back, “No team.”

My sister-in-law steps in and says “She’s on our team!”

The losing team look at each other and start to cry. I feel bad for them and can see how much a skater like me could help. I’m uncomfortable with my unexpected fame so I walk away.

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