Today, a dad walked into the rink with three kids—about nine to fourteen—and the unmistakable look of a man who planned to supervise from the sidelines.
I gently nudged him toward the rental counter.
“We’ve got a family discount,” I told him. “You’re practically free.”
He laughed. Good sport. But I could see the hesitation. The kids were laced up and flying before he even knew his shoe size. By the time he stepped onto the floor, he looked exactly like every brand-new adult skater does—equal parts brave and betrayed by gravity.
There’s a very specific look. Knees locked. Arms hovering. Eyes wide.
So we started at the beginning.
I showed him how to fall (with dignity), how to get up (with strategy), and how to do a simple forward bubble so he could at least move without panic. He approached it like he was being graded for finals. Every lap around the rink, I caught his eye and gave him a thumbs-up.
And something shifted.
By the time the hokey pokey started, he was breezing around the rink with the most ridiculous grin on his face. Not cool. Not composed. Just pure, unfiltered joy.
After they turned in their skates, he came back over to thank me. He said he hadn’t just had a great time with his kids—he’d discovered he could face his fear and try something new.
That’s the moment.
Not the medals. Not the choreography. Not the polished performance.
The moment when someone realizes they’re capable of more than they thought.
Sometimes purpose doesn’t announce itself with fireworks. Sometimes it shows up in rental skates, wobbly knees, and a dad who decides not to sit on the bench.
Every beautiful spin. Every confident edge. Every soaring jump.
They all begin in the same place.
The foundation.
This Spring Semester at Sk8Arts Academy, our theme is Strong Foundations — and we’re dedicating the coming weeks to reinforcing the essential elements that make everything else possible.
Because advanced skating isn’t built on tricks. It’s built on posture, balance, and core strength.
And if the foundation is weak, the structure above it will always wobble.
The Core: Your Skating Power Source
In artistic roller skating — just like in ballet, gymnastics, or figure skating — the core is not just “abs.”
It includes:
Deep abdominal muscles
Lower back stabilizers
Pelvic alignment
Glutes and hip stabilizers
Sports science consistently shows that proximal stability (core control) creates distal mobility (controlled arms and legs). In simple terms:
If the center is stable, the limbs can move with power and precision.
Without core engagement:
Jumps lose height.
Spins travel.
Edges flatten.
Arms flail instead of finishing lines.
With a strong core:
Rotation becomes faster and cleaner.
Edges deepen naturally.
Free legs extend with control.
Power transfers efficiently from the floor through the body.
The core is the engine. Everything else is steering.
The Weight of the Head: The Hidden Balance Factor
Here’s something most skaters don’t think about:
The average human head weighs 10–12 pounds.
That’s roughly the weight of a bowling ball sitting on top of your spine.
If that weight is even slightly forward, backward, or tilted to one side, it shifts the body’s center of mass — and on wheels, that shift is amplified.
A dropped chin?
Pulls the upper body forward.
Forces compensations in the hips.
Flattens edges.
A tilted head?
Breaks alignment.
Disrupts rotation axis in spins.
Causes off-centered turns.
When the head is balanced directly over the spine, something remarkable happens:
The body stacks.
The core engages naturally.
The skater feels lighter.
Alignment isn’t cosmetic. It’s mechanical.
Posture: The Architecture of Skating
Posture in skating is not stiff. It is dynamic alignment.
Imagine building a cathedral. If the base is crooked, no amount of decoration will fix the structure. Skating is the same.
Correct posture:
Allows power to transfer from the floor through the legs.
Keeps the center of gravity over the skating foot.
Creates clean lines that judges see immediately.
Reduces fatigue and injury.
Poor posture:
Wastes energy.
Creates tension in shoulders and neck.
Makes skills feel harder than they are.
When posture is correct, skating feels easier — not because it is easy, but because the body is working efficiently.
And efficiency is elegance.
Balance: The Beginning of Mastery
Balance is not static. It is controlled motion.
In this semester, we’ll revisit:
One-foot balance and edge quality
Weight placement over the ball of the foot
Knee bend and ankle articulation
Controlled upper body carriage
True balance begins in the core and radiates outward.
When the center is steady:
Free legs float instead of swing.
Arms finish movements instead of correcting mistakes.
Skaters appear calm — even during difficult skills.
That calm is not magic. It’s structure.
Why We’re Slowing Down to Go Faster
It may be tempting to rush into higher level dances, advanced choreography or more daring tricks.
But here’s the truth every champion eventually learns:
The skater who masters fundamentals progresses faster in the long run.
Strong foundations:
Build confidence.
Reduce fear.
Improve consistency.
Create power that doesn’t rely on force.
We are not “going backward.” We are reinforcing the roots so the tree can grow taller.
The Bigger Meaning of Strong Foundations
This theme isn’t only physical.
It applies to:
Discipline in practice.
Respect for classical technique.
Commitment to details.
Pride in doing basics beautifully.
Because artistic skating is not built on shortcuts. It is built on intention.
And when your foundation is strong, everything else becomes possible.
This spring, we strengthen from the inside out.
Core first. Posture aligned. Head balanced. Edges deep.
I come from a roller skating family. And when I say that, I don’t mean “we went on Friday nights sometimes.” I mean deep roots, hardwood floor, generational wheels.
My parents met at the Grand Old Rink in Portland, Oregon—Oaks Park Rink—which opened in 1902 and is still rolling strong. My grandmother’s father and grandfather helped build it, so the rink shows up in our family history the way a favorite relative does: always there, always important. My aunt and uncle skated competitively in the early 1950s, and by the time I was two (around 1956), I was already on skates and underfoot.
So no—“grew up at the rink” isn’t poetic license. It’s literal.
Some of my fondest childhood memories revolve around competitions, club activities, and rink life. When I was ten, I was chosen to be Cinderella in the annual skating show. This was a big deal: two nights, packed grandstands, media coverage, the whole magical production. My family was so proud they bought tickets for an entire section in the grandstand. For those two nights, I truly felt like a princess—and that moment bonded my mother and me forever. Nearly every birthday after that included some small Cinderella trinket, as if to say, remember who you were on wheels.
Then we moved to Texas.
Roller skating there was… different. Fewer shows, more pressure. Competitive skating was cutthroat in the best and worst ways, and coaches were training skaters to win—period. Our club produced national champions, and suddenly I wasn’t Cinderella anymore. I was just another pretty good skater.
I won my share, but by high school I was ready to widen my world. I cut back on skating to experience something resembling a “normal” teenage life in the early 1970s: captain of the drill team, chorus, drama club. And honestly? I loved it.
I never stopped skating, though. When disco hit in the late ’60s and early ’70s, I found my way into paid performances—special events, theater openings, appearances. I loved performing, and it was a great way for a young skater to make a little money. Of course, earning money meant losing amateur status and the ability to compete. That was fine with me. I was in love, planning my wedding (to a non-skater), and knew I couldn’t fund a competitive career while going to college and starting a marriage.
So when the chance came to teach at a brand-new rink near the university, I jumped—literally.
It was the perfect setup: classes during the day, teaching evenings and weekends. By the time I was pregnant with my first daughter, I had a small skating club and students heading into competition. I taught entire families—parents and kids together—and many of them are still lifelong friends. The rink moms helped watch my children, and everyone knew to keep an eye out for two little ones toddling around the skating floor in walkers.
Skating wasn’t just my job. It was our village.
My husband’s aerospace career eventually moved us around—California, Texas, and beyond. Each move meant leaving behind skaters I’d mentored, families I loved, programs I’d built. That part never got easier. Short stays made it hard to develop national-level competitors, but I kept building anyway. Because somewhere along the way, I realized it wasn’t the winning that mattered most to me.
It was the becoming.
Taking beginners and helping them grow into confident artistic skaters. Teaching courage. Teaching joy. And always—always—wanting my students to love skating as much as I do.
So yes, skating is my life. And the lessons I learned on the skating floor have shaped everything that came after.
Lessons from the Floor
Sportsmanship
There is honor in both winning and losing. Learning to congratulate the winner when it isn’t you is one of the hardest—and most generous—lessons a young person can learn. Being a graceful winner matters too. Some of my dearest friendships are with people I once competed against, and that is a gift competitive skating gave me for life.
Perseverance
Some people learn quickly. Some learn visually. And some have to try a move a hundred times before it finally sticks. I was a quick learner—until I wasn’t. I’ve fallen so many times on one elbow that I still have a permanent bump. I also have a broken tailbone that makes sitting squarely… complicated. Perseverance—through pain, frustration, and disappointment—prepared me for real life. It taught me that if I keep going, things do get better.
Musicality
Music has always been the soundtrack of my life. I grew up under the glow of the neon organ loft at Oaks Park, with the Mighty Wurlitzer playing and Don Simmons cueing “Linda” as I stepped onto the floor. We knew every classical overture used for freestyle. I’ll never forget watching Bobby Greer land a triple right on the crescendo of Slaughter on 10th Avenue, pointing at us kids like a touchdown celebration. Music is to skating what air is to breathing—it’s the reason I skate. It’s how movement becomes emotion.
Balance
And I don’t just mean on eight wheels. Skating taught me how to fall without quitting, how to get back up without drama, and how to find center when everything feels off. Funny how often that skill comes in handy off the floor.
Community
A rink is never just a building. It’s a family. A refuge. A place where generations overlap, where everyone knows who’s struggling and who needs cheering. Skating taught me that we are never really doing this alone—even when the music is just for us.
And I’m Still Learning…
If there’s one lesson skating keeps teaching me, it’s this: you’re never finished.
Not finished learning.
Not finished growing.
Not finished being surprised.
Even now—especially now—I learn something every time I step onto the skating floor. Sometimes it’s a technical reminder I’d forgotten. Sometimes it’s patience. Sometimes it’s courage, watching a beginner try something that scares them. And sometimes it’s joy, pure and unfiltered, when a skater finally feels a piece of music land in their body for the very first time.
People often assume that because I’m the teacher, the learning flows in one direction. But that’s never been true. My students teach me how to see skating through fresh eyes. They remind me not to rush the process. They show me new ways to listen to music, to interpret movement, to celebrate progress that doesn’t come with medals or titles.
They also keep me honest.
Skaters know immediately if you stop caring, if you stop listening, if you start teaching from habit instead of heart. So I stay curious. I ask questions. I adapt. I learn.
What I hope my skaters understand—new and old—is that skating doesn’t end when competition does, or when life gets busy, or when the music changes. It can grow with you. It can comfort you. It can challenge you. It can give you community when you least expect it.
I may have started this journey as Cinderella, and I may no longer wear the tiara every day—but I still step onto the floor with the same sense of wonder. Wheels under my feet. Music in the air. Something new waiting to be discovered.
As long as I’m skating, I’ll be learning.
And as long as I’m learning, I’ll keep teaching.
Because this life—this art, this community, this beautiful, rolling journey—was never meant to stand still.
January is where we begin again—not with tricks, not with speed, but with something far more essential.
A beat.
Every great skating moment—every clean edge, confident turn, expressive dance phrase, or powerful jump—starts with timing. Before style, before difficulty, before polish… there is rhythm. This month at Sk8Arts Academy, our January theme is “It Starts with a Beat,” and we’ll be exploring timing, tempo, and musicality across all of our classes.
Whether you’re gliding your very first patterns, dancing to music you love, or sharpening technical skills, the beat is your best teacher.
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Why the Beat Matters
Music isn’t something we skate to—it’s something we skate with.
Timing teaches control. Tempo teaches intention. Musicality teaches artistry.
When skaters learn to listen—not just hear—their skating changes. Movements become clearer. Transitions smoother. Confidence grows. Suddenly, skating feels less like “trying to remember steps” and more like telling a story through motion.
That’s what we’re aiming for this month.
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The Move of the Month
Each month, we introduce a Move of the Month—a choreographed skating phrase designed to connect skills, rhythm, and expression.
In January, this Move of the Month is built around: • Clear counts • Repeatable rhythmic patterns • Adaptable difficulty levels
That means the same movement idea can live in multiple places at once: • Groove Skaters will explore the beat through flow, body movement, and musical accents • Artistic Dance Skaters will refine timing, edges, and phrasing • Skills Students will use the rhythm to support balance, precision, and control
Different paths. Same pulse.
(Musical selections and specific cues will be added here once choreography is finalized.)
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How We’ll Build It in Class
Rather than rushing to the finished product, we’ll layer skills week by week: • Week 1: Finding the beat — skating on the count • Week 2: Playing with tempo — slow vs. quick, sustained vs. sharp • Week 3: Musical phrasing — beginning, middle, and finish • Week 4: Expression & polish — making it your own
You’ll notice that we repeat ideas on purpose. Repetition is where confidence lives—and confidence is what allows artistry to emerge.
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For Skaters (and Parents)
If you’re practicing at home or during open sessions, try this: • Count out loud while skating • Clap the rhythm before you move • Notice how your body wants to respond to different tempos
You don’t need more speed to improve—you need better timing.
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Looking Ahead
Everything we build in January becomes part of the foundation for the rest of the year. Rhythm leads to flow. Flow leads to confidence. Confidence leads to performance.
I noticed something recently while talking with a few “old skaters.” Amongst us, there’s a phrase that comes up almost instinctively, as if it’s part of our shared vocabulary: “Who did you take from?”
When we talk about past skating champions, we don’t just mention their medals or their style—we mention their lineage. “He took from Bob in California.” “That’s the year she started taking from Peggy.”
It’s a curious phrase when you stop and really look at it.
So… what are we taking?
Of course, we’re talking about teachers and coaches. But the word take implies something more intimate than just instruction. It suggests transmission. Inheritance. The passing of something living from one person to another.
And that got me thinking.
I’ve been a giver all my life. Most of the time, I’m a pleaser. My identity—whether by nature or by habit—has often revolved around what I can offer: to my family, to my friends, to my skating students, and to the world at large. That thread runs through nearly every chapter of my life.
And you know what? I’m actually okay with that.
So when a student says, “I take from Linda,” I feel something warm and grounding. Pride, yes—but also gratitude. Gratitude that I have something worth taking. That the years I spent practicing, studying, failing, returning, and beginning again didn’t just disappear into time, but became something transferable. Useful. Alive.
When we say we “take from” a teacher, what we really mean is this: We are the recipients of someone else’s lived experience. We are borrowing wisdom that cost them time, effort, heartbreak, and devotion. We are trusting that what they’ve given has value—even when we’ve paid for the lesson.
And as teachers, we are giving.
We may not say, “I give to Justine,” the way a student says, “I take from Linda.” But teaching is a form of giving that goes far beyond steps and technique. It is patience. It is seeing potential before it’s visible. It is offering structure, encouragement, and perspective earned over a lifetime of showing up—especially on days when it would be easier not to.
When I teach, I feel humbled by the exchange. Honored by it.
Because teaching is not about depletion. It’s about continuity.
Every time a student takes what I offer and carries it forward—adds their own artistry, their own courage, their own voice—I am reminded that giving and taking are not opposites. They are partners. A cycle. A lineage.
So as we begin a new year, maybe it’s worth asking ourselves a slightly different question—not just who did you take from? but also:
What are you carrying forward? What has been entrusted to you? And who might someday say your name with the same quiet pride?
If someone says, “I take from Linda,” I hope they say it knowing they are part of something larger than a single lesson or a single season. I hope they say it knowing that what was given to them was given freely, lovingly, and with the hope that they would someday give it forward in their own way.
That, to me, is the real legacy of skating. And maybe of life itself.
There’s a reason they call this time of year The Big Dark. By 4:15 the sky has already decided it’s time to clock out, and most of us are left wondering if we should follow suit. It’s easy to sink into hibernation mode and let the season swallow our energy whole. I’ve certainly had days where the only thing getting me moving is the promise of a warm cuppa and a thicker pair of socks.
But every week, when I walk into the rink and the lights hit that polished floor, something inside of me wakes up. It’s as if the wheels say, “Come on, now—we’ve got things to do.” And suddenly, there it is again: Joy. In motion.
This year, our guiding theme has been The Joy of Skating—and as December arrives, it feels more relevant than ever. Joy doesn’t just bubble up out of nowhere. It grows from movement, from showing up, from the little victories that happen between the first push-off and the last glide of the day. And in the middle of The Big Dark, choosing movement is one of the healthiest, brightest things we can do for ourselves.
Skating gives us light even when the sun is stingy. It keeps the body warm, the mind engaged, and the spirit lifted. It gives us a place to be active, creative, and connected—without needing sunshine, fair weather, or perfect conditions.
And this year, I’ve watched joy appear in so many ways: • The brand-new skater taking her first confident stroke. • The adult skater who thought they’d never cross-roll… suddenly cross-rolling. • The graceful breakthroughs in posture, flow, and edging. • The friendships forming across generations. • The shared laughter when someone (usually me) nearly wobbles into a snowplow stop. • The quiet pride of rediscovering a part of yourself you didn’t know you’d missed.
But underneath all of that joy is something deeper—something I’ve felt strongly this year: Joy grows from fundamentals.
When skaters start craving artistry, musicality, flow… that’s when technique becomes the doorway. This is where The Art of Plain Skating comes in—those beautiful, unadorned skills that look simple but carry the whole world of skating on their shoulders. Skaters who skip or never receive these classical basics often hit a wall later—and not the fun, padded kind. They struggle to express what their bodies haven’t been taught to support. But when a skater reclaims their basics—edges, posture, power, alignment—the joy returns as naturally as breath, and the artistry finally has a canvas.
In other words: Joy is not just found in motion. It’s found in beautiful, intentional motion.
And so, as we wrap up 2025, I want to offer this encouragement:
When the world outside grows darker, let your movement be your light. Roll, glide, stretch, dance, wobble, learn—any motion is good motion. Your body will thank you. Your heart will thank you. And yes… your skating will thank you too.
December is our month to celebrate everything we’ve built together: the confidence, the technique, the friendships, and the unmistakable joy that comes from being part of a thriving, artistic, wheel-powered community.
This month, we honor the light we create ourselves—and the joy that grows when we move through it.
Starting over isn’t failure. It’s an opportunity — a chance to learn not only from what worked, but from what didn’t. I’ve learned that as long as you keep trying, life keeps handing you new beginnings. Luck, I’ve discovered, lives in the courage to believe that this time, you’ll reach your goal.
I married young, still a college student, and couldn’t afford to skate competitively anymore. So I began teaching artistic roller skating instead, learning the ropes from some very generous rink owners who knew how to build strong programs. It was a blessing in disguise — I was still on skates, still teaching, still connected to the sport I loved.
When I had my first child, I stepped away from teaching for a while, only to find my business so successful under a friend’s care that she didn’t want to give it back! So I started again — new rink, new students, new dreams. And it worked. My second skating program grew quickly, from beginners to competitors within two years. I even had my second child during that time and raised my girls in the rink alongside the other “skate kids” of my little skating family.
Then my husband’s aerospace career took us to California. Once again, I packed up my skates and started from scratch — driving two hours through Orange County traffic with two little girls in tow to build yet another skating club. When a new job brought us back to Texas, I did it all over again. Each rink became a new classroom, not just for my students but for me.
In Texas, I had the good fortune to work with a master teacher who taught me the business of skating — how to move skaters from first steps to national-level competition. Those lessons and the lessons and support of the other generous rink operators I worked with became the foundation of my teaching philosophy today.
As my daughters grew, I shifted careers for a while — working in marketing and public relations by day and running a costume design business with my mother by night. Together, we created custom costumes for roller and ice skaters, ballroom dancers, and even pageant contestants around the world. Teaching took a back seat during those years, but the love of skating never left me.
Fast forward thirty years. I’m older now, but still young enough to lace up my skates and chase that feeling of freedom and grace. Today, I’m back at the rink — teaching again, building clubs, mentoring teachers, and helping skaters of all ages discover the joy of motion and artistry.
When I look across the rink and see twenty students focused, smiling, and skating with confidence, I know I’m right where I belong. This time, I have the benefit of every lesson, every stumble, and every restart that brought me here.
My goal now is simple: to leave a legacy of joyful rolling. If even one of my skaters goes on to inspire others to do the same, then every “new beginning” will have been worth it.
I am, truly, blessed and grateful for this chance to begin again — one more time, on wheels.
As a skating instructor/coach, I see struggling skaters all the time. It’s part of the job. Even when I’m clearly wearing a coach’s jacket, ID badge, or that universal symbol of authority—holding a clipboard—some folks still wave me off with a polite, “Oh, no… I’m good.” And you know what? In a public skating setting, I believe them. I smile, introduce myself, and leave them with: “If I can help, just let me know.” Then I skate off into the sunset like a respectful roller skating cowboy.
Because here’s the thing: knowing how to “read the room”—or more accurately, read the rink—is an essential coaching skill. Not every skater wants help, even if they’re clearly locked in a life-or-death battle with their inside edges. Maybe their friends or family are watching and they’re self-conscious. Maybe they’re just trying to survive their last lap so they can collapse onto the bench with dignity. Or maybe (and this is real) they’re not convinced I know more than they do about skating.
The Ego Equation Offering help can unintentionally say: “I skate better than you.” (And sometimes, that’s true. But still.) Ego is a fragile, slippery thing on wheels. No one likes feeling corrected—especially by a stranger—and especially if they’re already frustrated. So if your well-meaning offer is met with “I’m fine,” take them at their word. It’s not personal. Sometimes, the best help you can give is to back off and let them figure it out on their own.
That said, teachers have a sixth sense. We might not say anything, but we’re definitely watching. You can spot us across the rink doing subtle “coach charades”—tilting our head, rotating our arms, or silently demonstrating the correct position like some kind of skate whisperer. If you see us gesturing vaguely in your direction, don’t worry, we’re not casting spells. We’re just hoping you’ll notice the better way to do it.
For Instructors: Ask, Don’t Ambush If the skater is a student or someone you recognize from class, it’s totally okay to skate up and casually ask: “What are you working on?” It opens the door to a conversation without barging in with “Here’s what you’re doing wrong.” (Because, yikes.)
But—and this is important—that question doesn’t entitle anyone to a free 15-minute private lesson in the middle of a busy public session. Teachers are often keeping an eye on everyone’s safety, multiple students’ progress, and their own stamina. So if you want more in-depth feedback, book a private lesson or sign up for a class. Quick advice? Always happy to give it. But please don’t treat skating teachers like a vending machine for free tips—we’ve gotta make a living too!
For Skaters: Beware of Rink-Side Advice Givers Here’s a truth bomb: not everyone who gives skating advice should be giving skating advice. You’ll run into self-declared experts who might’ve seen a triple toe loop on TikTok and suddenly think they’re Olympic coaches. Then there are the well-meaning helpers who are actually skilled, but are using a completely different technique than what you’re learning in your lessons. It can be confusing at best, counterproductive at worst.
So what should you do? Try it. Seriously. If the advice seems safe and doesn’t go against the basic laws of physics or your better judgment—give it a spin. Worst case? It doesn’t work. Best case? It might just click. Sometimes it’s not what someone says, but how they say it that finally makes your brain and body sync up. One person’s “push through the inside edge” might be another person’s “dig into the floor with your big toe wheel,” and suddenly you’re flying across the floor like a pro.
Being open to feedback—even from unexpected sources—builds more than just your skills. It builds your community. Skating is better when we’re supporting each other, cheering each other on, and occasionally laughing together when we all wipe out trying that new footwork. (Hey, it happens.)
Final Thought: Mutual Respect Rolls a Long Way Whether you’re a coach, a student, or a self-taught roller artist carving your way through the rink—mutual respect is the smoothest path forward. Teachers, don’t assume. Skaters, don’t dismiss. Stay curious, stay kind, and above all… stay upright (as much as possible). And remember: the best help is offered with humility, received with openness, and occasionally punctuated by a dramatic fall and an even more dramatic comeback.
Welcome to this week’s class theme—“Finding Your Skating Style”! Whether you embrace the graceful moves of traditional roller dance or groove to the vibrant energy of contemporary recreational styles like GrooveSkating, this is your chance to discover and develop a style that’s uniquely YOU. Let’s break it down:
Elements of Skating Style: Building from the Floor Up
Your skating style is all about the details! From your posture to your attitude, here are the key elements to consider as you roll into self-expression:
Expressive Edges: How do your skates carve into the floor? Smooth, sharp, bold, or understated—your edges tell a story.
Freelegs and Toe Points: Are your freelegs elegant and purposeful? Do you swing or tuck? Your toe point adds grace and flair, and the simple turn of the toe can create a whole new position.
Hip Position: Are your hips open and dynamic, or do they stay centered and grounded? A hip movement can change the vibe! Shifting your weight to one hip gives a move or step an attitude of confidence.
Shoulder Position: Explore the impact of open versus closed shoulders, whether they’re fluidly moving or strong and stationary.
Head Position & Focus: Where you look makes a world of difference. Confidence begins with your gaze.
Hand Position: Relaxed or sharp? Outstretched or casually draped by your sides? Palms up as in an offering, or a sharp hands down as an emphasis. Hands are a dancer’s secret weapon.
Facial Expression: Your emotions shine through your face. Smile, smolder, or keep it cool—your face completes the package!
Musical Interpretation: How does the beat inspire your moves? Whether it’s a subtle knee bounce or sweeping arm movements that narrate the melody, show your connection to the music.
Costume or Apparel: Your style doesn’t stop at your skates—what you wear influences how you feel and skate. Dress to impress yourself!
Dance & Musical Influences to Spark Inspiration
Your skating can draw from the rich tapestry of dance and music. Here are some inspirations to fuel your creativity:
Classical Influences: Ballet, ballroom, waltz, and folk dances.
Dynamic Styles: Tap dancing, electronic dances, and street dance.
Cultural Flavors: Latin styles like salsa, bachata, and the jive, as well as Indian classical and Irish step dance.
American Soul: Breakdance, disco, funk, hip hop, lindy hop, and swing.
Global Rhythm: From social dances to ceremonial rituals like lion dances and Haka performances.
And so much more! Every dance holds potential to shape your skating.
Crafting Your Unique Style
Your skating style is deeply personal—it reflects your goals, experience, personality, and chosen discipline. The artistic flair of traditional dance skating evolving from ice skating and ballroom dancing definitely differs from the carefree vibes of contemporary recreational skating. But each takes from the other to develop styles of skating that inspire a uniquely personal creation. Here are some steps to cultivate your own unique style:
Watch and Learn: Study skilled skaters. Notice the little things—how they flow through curves or bounce to the beat. What resonates with you emotionally?
Be Authentically YOU: Skating is a no-judgment zone! Whether you’re reserved or a “spicy tomato,” don’t shy away from embracing your individuality.
Mix It Up: Artistic skating is an open canvas. Try blending different styles and tricks to create something new. A rhythm skater’s fresh move can inspire freestyle spins—or vice versa!
Practice & Experiment: Play with timing, positioning, and combinations. Add your personal flair to every move. The world needs *your* one-of-a-kind creativity!
Know your Identity!
As the legendary Steve Jobs said: “Good artists copy; great artists steal.” So gather inspiration, make it your own, and leave your mark on the skating community!
As you learn and practice, you’ll instinctively be drawn to one or several skating styles. It’s tempting to focus on just one thing too early in your skating journey, when you should be exploring and experimenting with different techniques and skills. But at some point you’ll want to specialize in a particular genre or discipline and practice to master that challenge. Once you’ve achieved some level of mastery in several different styles of skating, you’re ready to find your own identity for your creative expression.
The first step is identifyingthe skaters that demonstrate the styles you like the most. Watch those skaters you admire in videos and in-person at the rink carefully… what do you have in common with them? Do they share any physical characteristics or a confidence that you’d like to project through your skating? It’s not just about tricks or techniques, but a real way of moving and “being” on the skating floor that you’d like to emulate. There are so many talented and generous skaters to study, and they in turn learned from someone who was just as generous with their time and inspiration. Remember; you aren’t borrowing, you’re stealing! Take those characteristics and make them your own.
In developing a unique identity, you’ll follow a standard process of mastery:
Learn: new skills are introduced and applied to build a foundation on which more difficult techniques can be added.
Practice: take what you’ve learned and combine with other progressively more advanced skills. Wash, rinse, and repeat.
Make it your own : make changes and modifications of these skills to fit your own unique skating style, physique, and personality
So every time you are training, ask yourself this question; how can I make this my own?
It can be a step, a concept, or an idea. You can be telling a story, describing a personal event or emotion, or performing a moving work of art… whatever you’re doing, bring your own point of view to the skating floor. First LEARN the skill, then PRACTICE the skill, then MAKE IT YOUR OWN.
Remember, skating is a joyful form of self-expression. It’s about telling your story, connecting with music, and sharing your passion with the world. So, lace up those skates, let go of inhibitions, and roll out your own dazzling style. The skating floor is yours to own—so show the world your joy in motion!
See you on the skating floor!
~Coach Linda
Bonus Content:
Here are some examples of using personal style to communicate your unique skating personality:
Groove Glider: Smooth, low-to-the-ground movements with fluid edges, subtle arm sweeps, and controlled spins, blending chill grooves with elegance.
The Showstopper: Bold and theatrical skating with dramatic hand gestures, exaggerated facial expressions, and sharp, precise moves inspired by stage performances or musicals.
Old-School Funkster: Retro-inspired skating with funky footwork, quick double bounces, and shoulder pops, channeling the disco and funk vibe of the ’70s.
The Freestyler: A mix of breakdance and roller skating, featuring power moves, ground spins, and jaw-dropping tricks like cartwheels and stalls.
Cinematic Storyteller: Skating to tell a story, using expressive arm movements, narrative choreography, and costume changes to create a mini-drama on wheels.
Soulful Groover: A soulful style centered on musicality, connecting deeply with the rhythm and beats, and moving with a relaxed but precise cadence.
Urban Rebel: Drawing from street dance, this style incorporates edgy moves like glides, slides, and rhythmic toe jams for a bold and confident vibe.
Whimsical Wanderer: Inspired by fantasy, this style uses dreamy arm movements, soft spins, and an ethereal skating quality that feels weightless and magical.
The Power Skater: Strong, athletic movements with daring jumps, deep lunges, and fast spins, focusing on strength and precision while maintaining grace.
Cultural Fusionist: A blend of global influences, like African dance’s rhythmic footwork, Indian hand movements, or Latin hip isolations, creating a unique hybrid of styles.
Classic Elegance: Timeless sophistication with graceful lines, steady movements, and an air of poise, akin to ice skating performances.
Pop Diva: Dynamic and high-energy moves, inspired by pop music choreography, featuring sharp stops, bold turns, and confident strikes on the beat.
The Experimentalist: Mixing unexpected elements like contemporary dance, robotics-inspired isolations, or martial arts movements to craft something truly avant-garde.
Whip & Wave: Incorporating smooth whip turns and wave-like torso movements, giving an organic and fluid energy to your flow.
Trick Innovator: Known for pushing boundaries, this style focuses on unique combinations of intricate tricks, unusual spins, and inventive footwork.
Each of these styles can be adapted, combined, or evolved to reflect an individual skater’s personality, influences, and technical skills. Skaters can draw from these ideas, remix them, and make them their own!
“Why do you use organ music for artistic dance?” If you’re a roller dance skater, you’ve probably heard this question a million times. And let’s be honest, the usual answers don’t quite capture the real reason we cling to this (admittedly old-school) music for our traditional skate dances.
For those of us who grew up skating in big, old rinks with a pipe organ (or those classic Rinx organ music records), that music is like a time machine. It whisks us back to our childhoods, to hours of practice and competition prep, to the familiar tunes that became the soundtrack of our skating lives. It’s hard to admit, but we’re a bit attached to that music. It’s like a cozy, nostalgic blanket that might sound a bit dated to our non-skating friends.
But there’s a practical side to it too. Artistic Dance Skating relies on music with a metronome beat. Each dance has a specific tempo and rhythm. For example, a 100 tango keeps a tempo of 100 beats per minute and has the distinctive flavor of a tango. We’ve danced to these same songs for so long that we instinctively know which moves match the tempo and rhythm.
Back in the early days of skating (both ice and roller), recorded music wasn’t a thing. Most venues didn’t have full orchestras (though some did!), but in the 1940s, the organ was cutting-edge technology. It could mimic the sound of many instruments and only needed one person to play it. Organ music became a tradition, and soon, Roller Skating and Organ Music were inseparable. Skaters knew what dances were usually played for each couples skate, and the organist could control the speed and mood of the session with their musical cues. Every session I attended with a live organist ended with “Good Night Irene,” signaling the end of the night with a final flourish.
One of my earliest memories is from the Oaks Park Rink in Portland, OR. I was about six, and I loved making an entrance. Whenever I stepped onto the floor, the organist, Don Simmons, would play an old tune called “Linda” and smile at me from his neon-lit perch. My mom had several of Don’s records, and she even played a beautiful Hammond organ herself. She proudly told everyone that her cousin was the organist at the Oaks in the 50s. Hearing live organ music still gives me chills and brings back sweet memories of growing up in the rink. Here’s a sample if you’re curious: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F-2zcOB48nI
When you’ve been exposed to this music throughout your childhood (and adulthood, if you kept skating), you learn to keep time to the music and recognize a tempo when you hear it. This music binds dance skaters together. I can hum “Quiet Village” around a group of dance skaters, and they’ll all hum along, tell you the tempo, and share stories of their own skating mishaps.
Now, with modern technology, we can identify and adjust the tempos of contemporary music, making it possible to dance to tunes that resonate with today’s audiences. I’ve been working on this project for a while and have started introducing popular songs with modified tempos into my playlist for my Thursday Artistic Social Skate sessions. We love doing the Joyce Lee Waltz to a 138 version of John Denver’s “Annie’s Song”, and “Sweet Pea” by Amos Lee is a fun 92 Foxtrot. Patsy Cline’s “Walking After Midnight” and “Crazy” are favorites, and Nat King Cole’s “L-O-V-E” makes a nice 104 Fox Trot. The key in making these tunes “skate-able” is the ability to modify the tempo without changing the pitch. There are several apps on the market that do this for a price, but my preference is AnyTune. There’s a bit of a learning curve, but just changing the tempo is a fairly straightforward process. The hardest part is converting music into mp3 format, and since I’m not an expert at that process I’ll let you research that part yourself.
Yes, I’ve heard the discussions among “old” dance skaters arguing either for or against organ music, and hopefully I’ve made a case for respecting tradition while making our sport/art more accessible and relatable to modern skaters. Once skaters understand and learn the fundamentals of dance skating using the prescribed music, they have laid the foundation for truly skating to the music, whatever the source. Even without a classical knowledge of music, skaters will recognize tempos, rhythms, and styles of many different genres and styles of music because of their training with the traditional music of skate dancers – organ music. And maybe they’ll even like it….eventually.
I’d be happy to share my own “modernized dance music” on request, and would love to know what kind of music you like to skate to? Are there any songs you think would translate well for a particular tempo or rhythm? Let’s work together to let the world see roller dance skating in a format that will be relatable to modern audiences. My bet is that they’ll want to learn more when they see the skill and expression of our beautiful dances, whether it’s done to organ music or something more current.
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