The "Loser" Spot

When I was in high school, I tried out for the precision-skating team in my figure skating club.
I was a late-comer to figure skating, my parents didn't want to get second or third jobs to bankroll any hard-core training, so...

...I wasn't very good.
In fact, I didn't even try out until tenth grade. And then, I had to share a spot with another skater for a year.

At that time, a senior-level team could skate 32.  Not only was that a lot of bodies to move around in formations, when all the skaters lined up for a pinwheel, the ends of the line nearly touched the wall.

And, they moved fast.

Of course, the ends of the pinwheel were prestige spots, reserved for the strongest skaters.  As one moved toward the center of the line, there was less speed and strength required.  At the very center, the two "anchor" spots required only toe-picks and some upper body strength to counteract the centrifugal pull of the rest of the line.

In today's vernacular, the center of the pinwheel was the loser spot.
I spent my three years on the team in that spot.
(That said, I had a blast the whole time.)

Today, with the career I trained for behind me, and another one heading toward the cliff,
I sometimes think I'm back in the center of the pinwheel.  Maybe the "pinwheel of life", to put a metaphorical spin on it.

I got closer to the end position for awhile, enough to feel a little wind in my hair.
That was ok; still...the best spot, the high-profie, all-my-friends-can-see-me, everyone-knows-how-good-I-must-be spot never quite happened.

Now, what am I to make of being back in the center of the pinwheel?
Well, it's humbling, for sure.  Everyone knows the weakest skaters are in the center.
The anchor spot holds zero prospects for glory and recognition.

But...
Somebody's gotta do it.  Without the anchors, there's no pinwheel at all.
It's not glamorous, it's not selfie-worthy, but it IS indispensable.
Maybe not so loser after all.