Becoming
Inspired by Odd(GAEUL solo)-IVE
IMPORTANT NOTICE: HIT PLAY ON THE AUDIO
HAVE YOU?
OKAY THEN CARRY ON.
HAPPY READING.
(Please I just really want y’all to read while the song is playing to get the vibe. Thank you)
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, the next skater to take the ice represents her country in what is nothing short of a remarkable return to the sport.”
“A former rising favorite for the podium, her career was put on hold two years ago following a devastating ankle injury that kept her away from competition, and the ice, far longer than anyone expected.”
“But after a year-long recovery and an incredible journey back through rehabilitation and training, she has fought her way here, to the biggest stage in figure skating.”
“And fittingly, she’ll be skating tonight to Odd by Gaeul. A piece that speaks to embracing imperfections and finding beauty in what makes us different.”
“A powerful choice, and one that feels deeply personal given everything she’s been through.”
The music starts, too loud for my drifting thoughts. My body catches on before my brain does and I am gliding through the ice in my practiced routine before I even realize.
The rink looks bigger than it did in practice, the lights harsher. I can feel every eye watching me, waiting until I fall again.
You don’t belong here.
Third after the short program, but it still feels wrong, like someone mixed up the scores and hasn’t noticed yet.
I still expect it to be taken back.
Okay, no irrational fears, no talking down. Remember what the therapist said. Positive affirmations. I’m third because I did well. It’s not a fluke.
Did I hit full extension on that spiral?
Was my free leg high enough?
Fuck, was that spin centered or did I travel?
I pass the judges’ side and force my chin up, like that’ll fix anything that already happened.
My left ankle twinges as I push into the first edge. Not pain, not really, just an annoying ghost of it.
Why did I agree to my first jump being the triple axel? The same jump that cost me two years of my career.
“If you clear it first, most of your fear would be gone for the rest of the routine.”
Well, I’m fucking terrified now.
What if my ankle gives on the takeoff?
What if I under-rotate and it twists again on landing?
No. Don’t spiral. Don’t be a pessimist.
I’ve made this jump multiple times since the injury. I made it in the Grand Prix. Because I fucked it up during the short program doesn’t mean I’ll fuck it up again.
Stop saying fuck.
Did I rush that transition? My timing feels off.
My arms feel stiff. Am I holding tension in my shoulders?
Relax. Breathe. Skate.
Ugghh, if I get through this, I’m buying those boots. The expensive ones I keep pretending I don’t want.
I build the speed for the first jump. Crossovers. The ice hums under my blades.
My ankle again, just a flicker but it’s there.
Ignore it.
Breathe. Timing.
I try not to think past that and take off.
It’s immediately wrong.
I’m going to land wrong.
I know by the tilt, by how my weight is pitched just slightly too far forward. My axis is off.
I’m going to fall.
And for a split second, I remember the crack, the way the world dropped out from under me, the months after.
No.
I refuse.
I won’t lose any more time.
I pull in tighter, fighting for the rotation, forcing my body back over itself—
And I save it.
Somehow.
I don’t know how, but my blade finds the ice and holds. My knee bends, deep, catching the impact. There’s a wobble, but I ride it out.
My ass isn’t on the ice.
That’s a good thing.
Fuck, that’s a great thing.
A half-laugh escapes me before I can stop it.
I didn’t fall.
I just landed a triple axel.
On Olympic ice.
Suddenly I’m aware of where I am.
The Winter Olympics.
Not a dream. Not a someday.
This ice.
This moment.
Images flicker through my head as I skate. Standing on the podium at Worlds, gold around my neck; the Grand Prix Final, finishing second and not quite believing it even as it happened; every small, impossible step that got me here.
Two years.
That’s all it took to go from starting over to this.
I step into the next sequence, and something shifts.
My edges press deeper into the ice. My arms open instead of bracing. I let the curve stretch, taking up space I would’ve rushed through before.
The program—the one about finding beauty in imperfection—finally makes sense to me in a way it didn’t before.
Because that jump wasn’t perfect.
None of this is.
I can feel every tiny wobble, every moment that isn’t exactly as planned. And instead of tightening up, instead of trying to force everything back into control.
I’m just going to let it be.
Something lighter replaces the fear. Not completely, but enough that I realize, somewhere in the middle of a step sequence, that I’m smiling.
I step into a camel spin, then sit, and I let it breathe, letting the positions stretch instead of snapping through them. It slows just slightly, but it feels intentional, like I’m choosing it.
On the exit, I laugh again, softer this time.
I don’t remember deciding to.
A triple salchow. Easy.
A triple lutz. Clean.
Not perfect, but mine.
The final jump comes. A quad loop, triple loop combo.
As I set it up, I notice something strange.
There’s no voice telling me I can’t do it.
No hesitation.
I land the quad and flow straight into the triple.
I carry the momentum straight into a final spin, faster this time, pulling in tighter, the world blurring as the music swells around me.
The rink doesn’t feel so overwhelming now.
I can hear the crowd, distantly, but it doesn’t matter as much as the feeling of the ice under my blades, the way everything is finally lining up.
I glide into the final pose, my chest rising and falling.
I’m really here.
I made it.
I sit in the kiss and cry, hands tucked under my thighs so no one can see them shaking. The screen in front of us shows the current standings.
My name is still at the top.
It’s been there since I finished.
It feels temporary. Like a placeholder.
“Stop staring at it like that,” my best friend mutters beside me.
“I’m not—”
“You are. You look like you’re waiting for it to disappear.”
The last skater’s program keeps going.
By the end, it’s strong. The crowd erupts.
I feel cold all of a sudden.
“Hey,” she says, grabbing my hand again. “Hey—look at me.”
I don’t want to, but I do.
“You already did everything you could,” she says firmly.
I nod, even though it doesn’t settle anything.
The scores take forever.
The screen is blank for a second.
Then—
Numbers.
They flash up all at once.
My brain doesn’t process them immediately.
I look for placement first.
That’s what matters.
She’s in second.
For a second, I just stare.
Wait.
That means—
My friend’s grip on my hand turns into a full-on grab. “WAIT—”
I blink, looking back at the standings as they update.
My name.
Still at the top.
Still first.
“Oh my—” she cuts herself off with a noise that’s somewhere between a laugh and a scream. “OH MY GOD—YOU WON—YOU WON—”
Her arms are around me before it fully lands.
“You WON—do you understand that? YOU WON THE OLYMPICS—”
“I—” My voice doesn’t work. “I—wait—”
I look at the screen again like it might correct itself.
It doesn’t.
My coach hasn’t moved.
I turn toward him, almost needing confirmation.
He’s watching the screen, eyes narrowed slightly, like he’s double-checking the math.
Then, slowly, he nods.
“You are Olympic champion.”
I got so deeply into the Milano Winter Olympics I’m not gonna lie.
Like I’ve been into figure skating from the years of Evgenia Medvedeva but this was the first year I was properly inside it.
And see what it has brought up.
Honestly I have a list of songs that my brain tagged Figure skating songs and when I heard this one, my brain immediately added it to the list but with the pure unadulterated joy this song gives me when I listen to it, I knew I had to write to it.
Then I remembered that I have a figure skating character that I never gave a sequel.
So my girl. The Olympic champion. Whom y’all might never see again. Might ooo.
Also, with how much I love figure skating as a sport. I know that I’ll maybe end up writing a book about a figure skater someday.
Anywho, I hope you enjoyed reading it.
LIKE||RESTACK||QUOTE||COMMENT||SUBSCRIBE.
I love the song. I had to read the prequel first, then listen to the music, properly translate it, so I could understand it.
The song is a really good fit. Finding something odd to love, and loving the imperfections, sounds like the only way she's ever going to be able to live after that accident.
Love love that it ended on this note
Post finally got restacked, and I can finally write a comment. Blows raspberries.