The second lift development had a horizontal component in the first movement that she had been working on for three weeks without it clicking into place. She understood the mechanics intellectually. She could describe precisely what the entry required: instead of the clean vertical commitment of the fall program's lift, this one demanded that her center of gravity move laterally across him for the first two counts before the vertical component began. Two counts of trusting a direction that felt wrong before the direction that felt right became available.
The felt-wrong part was the problem. The felt-wrong part activated something in her nervous system that her training had spent fourteen years calibrating: a lateral weight shift in the air without a clear vertical resolution in the first two counts was, in the structural language of her body, a falling trajectory. Not a lift trajectory. Her body kept trying to correct it before the horizontal travel was complete.
She had discussed this with Coach Han on the second week of the development work. He had said: "You are trying to fix a problem that isn't there yet. The lateral movement isn't falling , it resolves vertically. But you're anticipating the fall before the resolution arrives."
She said: "I know. I know it intellectually."
He said: "Your body doesn't know it yet."
This was the specific category of technical problem she found most difficult: not the ones that required more strength or more precision, but the ones that required her to not do something her body had been trained to do. Unlearning was harder than learning.
On a Thursday in the third week of February, midway through the spring program development, she ran the lift entry for what felt like the thirty-seventh time that session and something different happened.
The two counts of horizontal travel , which had been producing a correction impulse she was having to suppress, which left her holding two opposing instructions simultaneously, which was exhausting and visible and making the lift mechanical rather than fluid , simply did not produce the correction impulse.
She was in the horizontal travel and she was not falling. She knew she was not falling not because she suppressed the signal but because the signal was not there. Her body had revised its assessment of the trajectory.
Casimir held the entry perfectly. The vertical resolution came. The lift completed.
She landed.
Coach Mira said, from the boards: "Again."
They ran it again. The horizontal travel without the correction impulse. The lift complete.
Coach Mira said: "Stop there."
Both coaches had been watching the entry for three weeks. Coach Han looked at Coach Mira. Coach Mira nodded once.
Coach Han said to Harin: "Tell me what happened."
She said: "My body stopped anticipating the fall."
He said: "What changed?"
She thought about this honestly. Something had changed in the third week that had not been present in the first and second. The intellectual understanding had not changed , she had understood the mechanics from the beginning. The training volume had not dramatically changed. What had changed was something more subtle.
She said: "I stopped trying to prevent the wrong thing from happening. I gave all of my attention to the thing that was happening instead of to the thing I was afraid would happen."
Han looked at her for a long moment. Then: "Yes."
Mira said: "That's the entry. Exactly that."
Cas had not said anything. He was standing at the boards where he had landed after the second run, and she looked at him and found him looking at her with the specific quality she associated with him having received something he wanted to think about before speaking.
She crossed to the boards.
He said: "You stopped bracing."
She said: "Yes."
He said: "I could feel the difference on the entry. The weight was different."
She said: "Less held back?"
He said: "Not less. More. You gave more weight." He considered this. "When you were bracing for the fall, you were withholding some of the weight. Even though the withholding made the entry harder, not easier. You were protecting yourself from something that wasn't going to happen, and the protection was creating the problem."
She said: "Yes."
He said: "I've been doing that in every performance for eight years."
She said: "I know."
He said: "You knew before I told you."
She said: "Yes."
Both of them at the boards, in the specific quality of a conversation that was about the lift and about something more than the lift. Coach Han was making notes. Coach Mira was reviewing the footage on her tablet. Neither coach was interfering with the conversation. This was also how the coaches operated: they knew when to be present and when to give the ice.
She said: "The spring program step sequence. My conversation with Han last week, about not building toward the sequence but being in it from the first beat."
He said: "Yes."
She said: "Same mechanism. The building toward was a form of bracing. Gathering energy to protect against the fall that was going to happen if the sequence wasn't approached carefully enough."
He said: "And the sequence doesn't fall."
She said: "The sequence doesn't fall. The brace was preventing the full quality, not protecting against a real threat."
He said: "So the spring program is substantially about removing braces."
She said: "From both of us."
He said: "In front of an audience."
She said: "In front of an audience."
He held this. She knew, from five months of paying close attention, that this was a significant thing for him to sit with. His wound was about audience specifically , the family in the stands at competitions from the time he was nine years old, the specific shape of love that came contingent on performance. The spring competition would have an audience. He had spent a month renegotiating with management specifically to protect his right to not be shaped by an audience's presence. And now Petra was asking him to not brace in front of that audience , to give the full weight even while knowing he was being watched.
She said: "You've been doing it. Since Fukuoka."
He said: "Yes. But Fukuoka felt like , the distance helped. It was far enough from the people who held the weight of the contingency that I could be present without bracing against them."
She said: "The spring competition will be closer."
He said: "Yes."
She said: "What was different in Fukuoka? From the previous Grand Prix events, when you were still performing."
He said: "You were there." He said it simply, not dramatically. "The specific kind of attention you bring , I've said this before , it's harder to perform for someone who is actually looking. In Fukuoka, on the ice, you were looking. Not watching. The looking made the audience's watching less relevant. I could feel where the real attention was."
She said: "The audience at the spring competition will also have me looking."
He said: "Yes."
She said: "Is that enough?"
He held her gaze. "I think so. I've been on the ice with you for five months. The bracing is weaker than it was."
She said: "The bracing is weaker. The lift entry works now."
He said: "Yes."
Mira called them back for the next element. They went. The rest of the session ran with the specific quality of a session where a technical breakthrough has just happened and the body is integrating it , not everything runs at the new level immediately, but the new level is present as a reference point that the previous plateau can no longer pretend doesn't exist.
After the session, walking back to her building: he walked the first four blocks with her and then turned north toward Saint-Laurent. But before he turned, he stopped.
He said: "The horizontal travel. Before you figured it out , you were giving ninety-something percent, right? Holding back a small amount because your body thought it needed to."
She said: "Yes."
He said: "The review period. The lift at ninety percent."
She said: "Yes."
He said: "Same mechanism. Your body was anticipating a fall that didn't happen."
She said: "Yes."
He said: "The review ended. The lift is at a hundred. The horizontal travel now also."
She said: "Yes."
He said: "I'm noting that."
She said: "I know."
He turned north.
She walked the remaining three blocks.
She was thinking about braces. The specific structures she had built to protect herself against falls that were either not going to happen or that she was causing by bracing against them. She had been building these since she was sixteen. The best ones had been nearly invisible , not walls, which would have been too obvious, but a slight angle of approach, a measured distance, a careful withholding. Enough to insulate without being seen as insulating.
She had spent the past five months with someone who was paying close enough attention that the careful withholding was not working. The braces had been found and named, one by one. The lift at ninety percent. The eight feet at the boards. The forty-eight-hour withdrawal. All of it found.
The braces were weaker now.
She was going to skate in March without them.
She believed she could.
She unlocked her building. She went up. She sat at the desk and did not write in the notebook , she was tired in the way that meant she needed sleep more than she needed to process. She would write tomorrow, after the session, when the integration had continued overnight.
She turned off the light.
She slept.
In the morning the horizontal lift entry was still there, clean, the correction impulse still absent. The body had kept the revision overnight. This was how it worked when the learning was real: the body kept it.
She ran it three times at the start of the joint session, to confirm.
Three times. Present. Clean. The weight before the fall that wasn't going to happen.
Coach Han watched all three. He said nothing.
She knew what his silence meant.
It meant yes.
Petra's choreographic notes for the second lift had described the horizontal component as "the moment the program admits what it's about." She had sent this annotation alongside the technical entry description, which was rare for her , Petra typically kept choreographic intention and technical instruction separate. The annotation meant something.
Harin had read it twice and had not been certain what Petra meant. Now, two weeks into working the entry and one day past the breakthrough, she thought she understood.
The fall program had been built around the question. The question was: what is this, what are these two people to each other, is what is happening between them real? The fall program's every element carried that question. The lift in the fall program was the physical version of it: she gave weight, he caught it, the outcome confirmed something about trust , but the question was still there beneath the confirmation.
The second lift was different. The horizontal travel before the vertical resolution was not a question. It was , Petra had said it , an admission. The admission that they had already found each other, that the finding was done, that what followed was not discovery but habitation. Living in the thing rather than approaching it.
The horizontal component required moving toward someone before the reliable ground of the vertical was available. Moving toward them specifically, not toward safety. The body's instinct, trained over years of competition, was to protect against lateral displacement , it was the most dangerous axis for a skater, the one that produced the most catastrophic falls. She had spent the fall learning to trust vertical falls into his hands. This winter she had to learn something different: that moving toward him laterally was also safe, not because he would catch her in the same way, but because the direction was right even before the resolution was available.
Two counts of knowing the direction without the resolution.
She had been doing that all fall, she realized. Two counts in the dark, moving toward something before it was confirmed. She had been doing it consciously since week four when she had noticed that his attention was real rather than performed. She had done it throughout the review period, giving weight on the lift while the ISU was still deciding. She had done it in the conversation in her apartment when she had told him about the wound, before she could know whether the telling would make things better or worse.
The entry before the cue.
The horizontal travel before the vertical resolution.
The same movement, different register.
She thought she might tell Petra this, on the next call. Not as analysis but as observation. Petra would find it useful for the spring program's choreographic architecture , she built from what was actually there in her dancers, not from what she imagined should be there.
She ran the lift entry two more times in the afternoon session, after Coach Han's comment, and both times it was clean and unbraced and the weight was complete.
Coach Han made one note. He said: "The entry is now ahead of the rest of the program. The step sequence needs to catch up to this quality."
She said: "I know. I've been thinking about the same thing."
He said: "The same mechanism?"
She said: "Yes. The bracing in the step sequence is different from the bracing in the lift , less dramatic, harder to see. But it's the same category of problem."
He said: "Then you know how to address it."
She said: "Stop anticipating the fall that isn't going to happen."
He said: "Yes."
She nodded. She went to cool down.
She was thinking, while she cooled, about the architecture of bracing , all the places in her life where she had built the low-level structural protection against falls that weren't going to happen. The step sequence was one instance of it. The lift entry had been another. The review period had shown her the personal version: ninety percent weight when the ISU notification arrived, the eight feet of distance at the boards, the increased solo sessions.
All of it the same: anticipating a fall that wasn't going to happen, and the anticipation costing her the full expression of what was there.
The spring program was going to ask her to give the full expression in front of an audience.
She was going to do it.
She was not afraid of the audience in the way she had once been afraid of audiences. She had been on ice in front of audiences since she was nine years old. The fear was not of the audience itself but of what the audience represented: the contingent version of value, the love that came for performance and left when performance faltered. Her wound's specific shape.
She had been in the presence of someone who watched her without that contingency for five months. The recalibration was not complete , she did not imagine the wound was healed simply because it was named and addressed. But the recalibration had made the audience less relevant than it had been. She had a reference point for a different kind of attention, and that reference point changed what the audience's attention meant.
She was going to skate in March with that reference point.
She believed it would be enough.
She unlocked her building. She went up. She sat at the desk.
She opened the notebook.
She wrote: February. The horizontal entry works. The body stopped anticipating the fall. The step sequence next.
She paused. Then she wrote: All year I've been removing things I put there to protect myself. The counting. The ninety percent. The entry correction. Each one: a structure I built when I was afraid and maintained past the point of needing it. The spring program is going to be what's left when I take the last one out.
She did not close the notebook yet. She looked at what she had written.
She added: I think I'm ready.
She closed the notebook.
That evening he texted: The entry was clean today. Both runs.
She replied: Both. Yes.
He: What changed?
She thought about how to answer this honestly in a text. Then: I stopped guarding against the fall. The guarding was the problem.
He: The same thing I've been working on with the audience.
She: Yes. Different surface, same mechanism.
He: Did it feel different when you stopped guarding?
She: It felt like more. Not less weight , more. The guarding was taking something away from the entry.
He: Yes.
A pause. Then: The step sequence next?
She: Han thinks so. I agree.
He: I'll work on it tomorrow's solo session.
She: Good.
She put the phone down. She was glad he had texted rather than waiting until the morning session. The habit of sharing things while they were still forming , it went both directions now. He reached out when something was in progress, not after it was complete.
She thought this was probably the most significant change in him across the season: not the personal statement or the management renegotiation, but this. The willingness to be in the incomplete version together.
She went to bed.
She woke at five-thirty-two thinking about the step sequence. The bracing in the step sequence was subtler than in the lift. She would need to bring it to a session deliberate enough that she could observe it rather than simply executing the sequence in the normal way. The observation was the first step.
She was going to observe it.
She was going to find the brace.
She was going to remove it.
She was going to be in the full version of the step sequence by the spring competition.
She believed she would.
The step sequence was the next thing to understand. She was going to find the brace and name it the way she had named the others, and then she was going to remove it. She was practiced at this now.
You've reached the end of this chapter
The second lift development had a horizontal component in the first movement that she had been working on for three weeks without it clicking into place. She understood the mechanics intellectually. She could describe precisely what the entry required: instead of the clean vertical commitment of the fall program's lift, this one demanded that her center of gravity move laterally across him for the first two counts before the vertical component began. Two counts of trusting a direction that felt wrong before the direction that felt right became available.
The felt-wrong part was the problem. The felt-wrong part activated something in her nervous system that her training had spent fourteen years calibrating: a lateral weight shift in the air without a clear vertical resolution in the first two counts was, in the structural language of her body, a falling trajectory. Not a lift trajectory. Her body kept trying to correct it before the horizontal travel was complete.
She had discussed this with Coach Han on the second week of the development work. He had said: "You are trying to fix a problem that isn't there yet. The lateral movement isn't falling , it resolves vertically. But you're anticipating the fall before the resolution arrives."
She said: "I know. I know it intellectually."
He said: "Your body doesn't know it yet."
This was the specific category of technical problem she found most difficult: not the ones that required more strength or more precision, but the ones that required her to not do something her body had been trained to do. Unlearning was harder than learning.
On a Thursday in the third week of February, midway through the spring program development, she ran the lift entry for what felt like the thirty-seventh time that session and something different happened.
The two counts of horizontal travel , which had been producing a correction impulse she was having to suppress, which left her holding two opposing instructions simultaneously, which was exhausting and visible and making the lift mechanical rather than fluid , simply did not produce the correction impulse.
She was in the horizontal travel and she was not falling. She knew she was not falling not because she suppressed the signal but because the signal was not there. Her body had revised its assessment of the trajectory.
Casimir held the entry perfectly. The vertical resolution came. The lift completed.
She landed.
Coach Mira said, from the boards: "Again."
They ran it again. The horizontal travel without the correction impulse. The lift complete.
Coach Mira said: "Stop there."
Both coaches had been watching the entry for three weeks. Coach Han looked at Coach Mira. Coach Mira nodded once.
Coach Han said to Harin: "Tell me what happened."
She said: "My body stopped anticipating the fall."
He said: "What changed?"
She thought about this honestly. Something had changed in the third week that had not been present in the first and second. The intellectual understanding had not changed , she had understood the mechanics from the beginning. The training volume had not dramatically changed. What had changed was something more subtle.
She said: "I stopped trying to prevent the wrong thing from happening. I gave all of my attention to the thing that was happening instead of to the thing I was afraid would happen."
Han looked at her for a long moment. Then: "Yes."
Mira said: "That's the entry. Exactly that."
Cas had not said anything. He was standing at the boards where he had landed after the second run, and she looked at him and found him looking at her with the specific quality she associated with him having received something he wanted to think about before speaking.
She crossed to the boards.
He said: "You stopped bracing."
She said: "Yes."
He said: "I could feel the difference on the entry. The weight was different."
She said: "Less held back?"
He said: "Not less. More. You gave more weight." He considered this. "When you were bracing for the fall, you were withholding some of the weight. Even though the withholding made the entry harder, not easier. You were protecting yourself from something that wasn't going to happen, and the protection was creating the problem."
She said: "Yes."
He said: "I've been doing that in every performance for eight years."
She said: "I know."
He said: "You knew before I told you."
She said: "Yes."
Both of them at the boards, in the specific quality of a conversation that was about the lift and about something more than the lift. Coach Han was making notes. Coach Mira was reviewing the footage on her tablet. Neither coach was interfering with the conversation. This was also how the coaches operated: they knew when to be present and when to give the ice.
She said: "The spring program step sequence. My conversation with Han last week, about not building toward the sequence but being in it from the first beat."
He said: "Yes."
She said: "Same mechanism. The building toward was a form of bracing. Gathering energy to protect against the fall that was going to happen if the sequence wasn't approached carefully enough."
He said: "And the sequence doesn't fall."
She said: "The sequence doesn't fall. The brace was preventing the full quality, not protecting against a real threat."
He said: "So the spring program is substantially about removing braces."
She said: "From both of us."
He said: "In front of an audience."
She said: "In front of an audience."
He held this. She knew, from five months of paying close attention, that this was a significant thing for him to sit with. His wound was about audience specifically , the family in the stands at competitions from the time he was nine years old, the specific shape of love that came contingent on performance. The spring competition would have an audience. He had spent a month renegotiating with management specifically to protect his right to not be shaped by an audience's presence. And now Petra was asking him to not brace in front of that audience , to give the full weight even while knowing he was being watched.
She said: "You've been doing it. Since Fukuoka."
He said: "Yes. But Fukuoka felt like , the distance helped. It was far enough from the people who held the weight of the contingency that I could be present without bracing against them."
She said: "The spring competition will be closer."
He said: "Yes."
She said: "What was different in Fukuoka? From the previous Grand Prix events, when you were still performing."
He said: "You were there." He said it simply, not dramatically. "The specific kind of attention you bring , I've said this before , it's harder to perform for someone who is actually looking. In Fukuoka, on the ice, you were looking. Not watching. The looking made the audience's watching less relevant. I could feel where the real attention was."
She said: "The audience at the spring competition will also have me looking."
He said: "Yes."
She said: "Is that enough?"
He held her gaze. "I think so. I've been on the ice with you for five months. The bracing is weaker than it was."
She said: "The bracing is weaker. The lift entry works now."
He said: "Yes."
Mira called them back for the next element. They went. The rest of the session ran with the specific quality of a session where a technical breakthrough has just happened and the body is integrating it , not everything runs at the new level immediately, but the new level is present as a reference point that the previous plateau can no longer pretend doesn't exist.
After the session, walking back to her building: he walked the first four blocks with her and then turned north toward Saint-Laurent. But before he turned, he stopped.
He said: "The horizontal travel. Before you figured it out , you were giving ninety-something percent, right? Holding back a small amount because your body thought it needed to."
She said: "Yes."
He said: "The review period. The lift at ninety percent."
She said: "Yes."
He said: "Same mechanism. Your body was anticipating a fall that didn't happen."
She said: "Yes."
He said: "The review ended. The lift is at a hundred. The horizontal travel now also."
She said: "Yes."
He said: "I'm noting that."
She said: "I know."
He turned north.
She walked the remaining three blocks.
She was thinking about braces. The specific structures she had built to protect herself against falls that were either not going to happen or that she was causing by bracing against them. She had been building these since she was sixteen. The best ones had been nearly invisible , not walls, which would have been too obvious, but a slight angle of approach, a measured distance, a careful withholding. Enough to insulate without being seen as insulating.
She had spent the past five months with someone who was paying close enough attention that the careful withholding was not working. The braces had been found and named, one by one. The lift at ninety percent. The eight feet at the boards. The forty-eight-hour withdrawal. All of it found.
The braces were weaker now.
She was going to skate in March without them.
She believed she could.
She unlocked her building. She went up. She sat at the desk and did not write in the notebook , she was tired in the way that meant she needed sleep more than she needed to process. She would write tomorrow, after the session, when the integration had continued overnight.
She turned off the light.
She slept.
In the morning the horizontal lift entry was still there, clean, the correction impulse still absent. The body had kept the revision overnight. This was how it worked when the learning was real: the body kept it.
She ran it three times at the start of the joint session, to confirm.
Three times. Present. Clean. The weight before the fall that wasn't going to happen.
Coach Han watched all three. He said nothing.
She knew what his silence meant.
It meant yes.
Petra's choreographic notes for the second lift had described the horizontal component as "the moment the program admits what it's about." She had sent this annotation alongside the technical entry description, which was rare for her , Petra typically kept choreographic intention and technical instruction separate. The annotation meant something.
Harin had read it twice and had not been certain what Petra meant. Now, two weeks into working the entry and one day past the breakthrough, she thought she understood.
The fall program had been built around the question. The question was: what is this, what are these two people to each other, is what is happening between them real? The fall program's every element carried that question. The lift in the fall program was the physical version of it: she gave weight, he caught it, the outcome confirmed something about trust , but the question was still there beneath the confirmation.
The second lift was different. The horizontal travel before the vertical resolution was not a question. It was , Petra had said it , an admission. The admission that they had already found each other, that the finding was done, that what followed was not discovery but habitation. Living in the thing rather than approaching it.
The horizontal component required moving toward someone before the reliable ground of the vertical was available. Moving toward them specifically, not toward safety. The body's instinct, trained over years of competition, was to protect against lateral displacement , it was the most dangerous axis for a skater, the one that produced the most catastrophic falls. She had spent the fall learning to trust vertical falls into his hands. This winter she had to learn something different: that moving toward him laterally was also safe, not because he would catch her in the same way, but because the direction was right even before the resolution was available.
Two counts of knowing the direction without the resolution.
She had been doing that all fall, she realized. Two counts in the dark, moving toward something before it was confirmed. She had been doing it consciously since week four when she had noticed that his attention was real rather than performed. She had done it throughout the review period, giving weight on the lift while the ISU was still deciding. She had done it in the conversation in her apartment when she had told him about the wound, before she could know whether the telling would make things better or worse.
The entry before the cue.
The horizontal travel before the vertical resolution.
The same movement, different register.
She thought she might tell Petra this, on the next call. Not as analysis but as observation. Petra would find it useful for the spring program's choreographic architecture , she built from what was actually there in her dancers, not from what she imagined should be there.
She ran the lift entry two more times in the afternoon session, after Coach Han's comment, and both times it was clean and unbraced and the weight was complete.
Coach Han made one note. He said: "The entry is now ahead of the rest of the program. The step sequence needs to catch up to this quality."
She said: "I know. I've been thinking about the same thing."
He said: "The same mechanism?"
She said: "Yes. The bracing in the step sequence is different from the bracing in the lift , less dramatic, harder to see. But it's the same category of problem."
He said: "Then you know how to address it."
She said: "Stop anticipating the fall that isn't going to happen."
He said: "Yes."
She nodded. She went to cool down.
She was thinking, while she cooled, about the architecture of bracing , all the places in her life where she had built the low-level structural protection against falls that weren't going to happen. The step sequence was one instance of it. The lift entry had been another. The review period had shown her the personal version: ninety percent weight when the ISU notification arrived, the eight feet of distance at the boards, the increased solo sessions.
All of it the same: anticipating a fall that wasn't going to happen, and the anticipation costing her the full expression of what was there.
The spring program was going to ask her to give the full expression in front of an audience.
She was going to do it.
She was not afraid of the audience in the way she had once been afraid of audiences. She had been on ice in front of audiences since she was nine years old. The fear was not of the audience itself but of what the audience represented: the contingent version of value, the love that came for performance and left when performance faltered. Her wound's specific shape.
She had been in the presence of someone who watched her without that contingency for five months. The recalibration was not complete , she did not imagine the wound was healed simply because it was named and addressed. But the recalibration had made the audience less relevant than it had been. She had a reference point for a different kind of attention, and that reference point changed what the audience's attention meant.
She was going to skate in March with that reference point.
She believed it would be enough.
She unlocked her building. She went up. She sat at the desk.
She opened the notebook.
She wrote: February. The horizontal entry works. The body stopped anticipating the fall. The step sequence next.
She paused. Then she wrote: All year I've been removing things I put there to protect myself. The counting. The ninety percent. The entry correction. Each one: a structure I built when I was afraid and maintained past the point of needing it. The spring program is going to be what's left when I take the last one out.
She did not close the notebook yet. She looked at what she had written.
She added: I think I'm ready.
She closed the notebook.
That evening he texted: The entry was clean today. Both runs.
She replied: Both. Yes.
He: What changed?
She thought about how to answer this honestly in a text. Then: I stopped guarding against the fall. The guarding was the problem.
He: The same thing I've been working on with the audience.
She: Yes. Different surface, same mechanism.
He: Did it feel different when you stopped guarding?
She: It felt like more. Not less weight , more. The guarding was taking something away from the entry.
He: Yes.
A pause. Then: The step sequence next?
She: Han thinks so. I agree.
He: I'll work on it tomorrow's solo session.
She: Good.
She put the phone down. She was glad he had texted rather than waiting until the morning session. The habit of sharing things while they were still forming , it went both directions now. He reached out when something was in progress, not after it was complete.
She thought this was probably the most significant change in him across the season: not the personal statement or the management renegotiation, but this. The willingness to be in the incomplete version together.
She went to bed.
She woke at five-thirty-two thinking about the step sequence. The bracing in the step sequence was subtler than in the lift. She would need to bring it to a session deliberate enough that she could observe it rather than simply executing the sequence in the normal way. The observation was the first step.
She was going to observe it.
She was going to find the brace.
She was going to remove it.
She was going to be in the full version of the step sequence by the spring competition.
She believed she would.
The step sequence was the next thing to understand. She was going to find the brace and name it the way she had named the others, and then she was going to remove it. She was practiced at this now.
You've reached the end of this chapter