Healing a Broken Sport: My Story
There is a common adage among figure skating coaches that a figure skater must be talented, hardworking, and wealthy to become a champion. Talented, hardworking, and wealthy. Has the world ever been anything but an oyster for such a young person? The other thing that coaches like to mention about skaters is whether or not they have “good parents,” meaning parents that will do whatever the coaches suggest. They listen, obey, and don’t think too hard about how things might affect their child’s long term wellbeing. This might sound harsh to some, but anyone who has been in the sport for a long time knows that it is true. There are, of course, exceptions, but those kinds of coaches often go unnamed and uncelebrated.
As a young figure skater, I had three out of four of these qualities. I was talented, hard working, and had “good parents” but I was not wealthy. My parents were both elementary school teachers which landed me firmly in the middle class. Luckily, I had “good parents” who were willing to spend money on figure skating as if we were wealthy. As far as my coaches were concerned, the money kept flowing into their bank accounts, I had good lines and the right body structure, I worked crazy hard, and my parents did whatever they said, so I had what it took to be a champion.
Very few people in the world possess all the qualities that coaches look for. Among the internationally ranked figure skaters I knew during my competitive career, most were missing at least one of these qualities. Everyone was talented, but most were either a little lazy (compared to their high ranking peers), not wealthy, or had parents who wanted them to, heaven forbid, go to college. As a result, they faced immense pressure to win medals despite being at a handicap. That pressure has broken many young skaters. And when I say broken I’m not just talking about their figure skating careers. The pressures common in figure skating have led to severe mental health issues, addiction, jail time, and even death.
When elite figure skaters experience trauma, such as the issues mentioned above, there is virtually no safety net for them. In her 2024 memoir, “Outofshapeworthlessloser,” Gracie Gold describes how officials berated her for lacking discipline when she experienced a major mental health event that led her to gain weight and lose some of her skills. It took someone out of the sport, a trainer, to see Gracie’s struggles for what they were and get her help. I had a similar experience.
I developed an eating disorder that went untreated. In one summer, the summer after my parents went through a tumultuous divorce, I dropped 20 pounds in one month to reach a weight of 99 pounds at 5’7’’. My weight loss was applauded by both coaches and skaters at my training rink, who asked me for diet and exercise advice. It wasn’t until a judge noticed my extremely low weight that my coaches suggested I gain a few pounds. At the suggestion of this judge I ate a bit more. Once I’d gained 4 pounds to reach 103 pounds, my coaches applauded me for my 4 pound weight gain and said that I was now the perfect weight and to please not lose or gain any more weight. The pressure to stay exactly 103 pounds, along with my parents’ inability to handle mounting training costs, led me to severe anxiety and depression. And since my parents were accustomed to listening to my coaches advice over their own conscience, I had no advocate or safety net. I once called my mother from a friend’s house, sobbing and saying that I was afraid that I would die because I couldn’t eat. She took me to one therapy session where they put me on 5 mg of Lexapro and that was considered a solution. I went back to training and everyone was happy, except for me.
Where is the help that young figure skaters need when the pressures of the sport break them down? Many figure skaters opt for homeschooling since the rigorous training and travel schedule for international competition make it challenging to attend traditional school. As a result, the sort of issues that might get picked up on by teachers and addressed by school counselors go unnoticed. It is in coaches’ best financial interest to keep skaters training no matter what their students are experiencing. And if skaters stop competing and winning medals for even one season, they can lose Team USA funding. If a skater does manage to see a doctor to get treatment for either mental health issues or an injury, the treatment protocol usually includes time off the ice. Taking time off the ice comes with the consequences listed above, so skaters keep training and ignore physical and mental health issues to avoid angering their coaches and losing funding. This is a vicious cycle that has no end unless one exits the sport, which is the route I took to get the help I needed.
I left the sport to go back to school and construct a normal, healthy life. But I miss figure skating. And I wish every day that I could have gotten the help I needed and stayed in the sport so I could have realized my full potential. I love figure skating and want to find a way for athletes to work through their struggles without having to numb out, bow out, or exit this world entirely. I want to heal this broken sport.
I want to heal the brokenness in figure skating, but I don’t exactly know how. However, I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, so I’d like to write a series of posts that highlight some of the ways that healing is occurring in the sport, such as coaches training on injury treatment and nutrition, DEI efforts, and sub-disciplines like Solo Dance and Theatre On Ice. I hope that this will provide a starting point for deeper thought, and perhaps even action, especially from former figure skaters.
Much love,
Mo