Page 35 of Breaking the Pucking Rules
It’s full of families and skaters of all different ages and abilities.
I watch a couple of kids who can’t be more than four racing around the middle like little rockets and smile.
That was me once upon a time.
I vividly remember Dad’s proud smile as he watched me.
I’ve been addicted to the freedom the ice provides ever since.
When I was a kid, all I wanted to do was follow in my father’s footsteps.
I joined my first girls’ team at age six, and I played until I was fifteen.
But everything eventually got too much, and I quit.
It’s something I’ll probably always regret.
Mom wouldn’t have wanted me to quit.
I may not have been as good as Dad, and I may never have made the PWHL, but I loved it. And when I stopped playing, I lost a massive piece of myself for quite some time.
I blow out a heavy breath as everything I’ve fought to overcome presses down on my shoulders.
Get on the ice, Casey.
Everything is better when you’re on the ice.
Pushing to my feet, I walk to the gate and straighten my spine.
I step out and then glide away.
The second I do, every muscle in my body relaxes.
I find my place amongst the skating crowd and let go of everything that’s weighing me down.
I don’t count how many laps I do—not that it matters. I’d keep going all day if I could.
But eventually, the ice begins to empty, and over in the corner, the first of the kids' teams congregates to begin their practice.
The sight of the girls in their team uniforms hits me right in the chest.
Slowing to a stop at the exit, I step off the ice and wobble on shaky, tired legs toward the bench where I left my bag.
I might skate most weeks still, but I don’t have the stamina I used to.
Lowering my ass, I take a moment to catch my breath.
Before I lean forward to remove my skates, the girls take to the ice.
I sit there, unable to look away as they start their warm-up laps before embarking on some drills.
Longing to be out there suited up and doing the thing I always loved pulls at my muscles.
I’m too old now; I’d probably break every bone in my body if I even attempted to play. But it’s nice to live vicariously through them.
They look so tiny out there, but they certainly don’t look vulnerable. They’re little savages, and I love it.
I always enjoyed being faster and stronger than most of the boys at school. Looking back, I’m pretty sure many of them were scared of me. Explains why I didn’t have a boyfriend until much later in life.
