I just returned from one of the most exhausting but rewarding skate experiences of my entire life. No, I didn't skate from San Francisco to Los Angeles, roll to the top of a mountain, win a race or even set a new record. What I did do was conduct a weekend skate camp in Tampa, FL. It was officially dubbed "Matzger's Mountain Climbing Clinic" but actually touched on more than hills alone. I tried to expose the complete skating animal through a combination of lectures and chalk talks, group skates, videotape analysis sessions, technique drills, and off-skate exercises.

25 skaters from all over the country came and became better skaters. I tried as much as possible to give my personal side of the story: the skinny on how I train, what I eat, my technique, what equipment I use, and how I psyche myself up for a race. I did a lot of talking and luckily my campers nodded understanding rather than nodded-off. They didn't just listen either; they all did something about what I said Therein lay the payback: I saw eyes light up with sudden glimpses of understanding; I heard testimonials about how one thing I had demonstrated had changed them forever; I saw skaters experience the joy of discovery of learning a new technique; I reveled in their pleasure at forsaking old bad habits and acquiring new good ones. In everybody I saw progress being made literally overnight.

On Friday evening we all met for a social skate along the Pinellas trail, a converted railway that's now a black satiny strip of asphalt. This was the ice-breaker skate. We blew off a little steam after a long day of traveling and familiarized ourselves with each other's company. No problems there. There were friendly exchanges and intelligent questions. It was obviously a fun bunch committed to improvement.

Later that night we gathered at the Flynn's, whose dining room had been converted into a lecture hall. After distributing the party favors generously donated by my sponsors (which instantly made everybody feel as if the clinic had already been more than worth it), I launched into the day's main event, a discussion of the objectives of the weekend, a history of how I had accomplished what I had, and an overview of all the various topics I'd be covering. These included, but were not limited to: long race preparation, short race preparation, fundamentals of technique, training with a heart rate monitor, my weekly workout planner, skating hills, power training, pliometrics, training behind bicycles, skating in pacelines, recovery, nutrition, stretching and warming up, interval training, cross training, blister care and prevention, and equipment.

I told a story how the most useful coaching I'd ever had was by a guy who had given me only one thing to think about when I saw him once a week, like driving my left leg forward. I told them that because of obvious time constraints I wasn't going to be able to use this teaching technique. Rather, I was going to subject them to a barrage of information about skating. Their job was going to be to pick out those points they felt were the most useful, translate them onto their skates, and commit them to their muscles' memory so they needn't keep reminding themselves. I told them that it was a daunting task to synthesize all the components of good technique in one weekend, but that we'd try.

I forewarned how many of the drills we were going to do, like pushing out to the side, were exaggerated so that we could eventually find a happy medium. In our sculling drill and and even during normal skating, for example, I emphasized that at full extension the pushing skate should be in front of the gliding skate. This got everybody pushing more with the heel and out to the side, instead of so far to the back. I likened this over-exaggeration exercise to trying to straighten a bent piece of metal. You need to bend it back the other way a little in order to get the bend out and be straight again.

One of the last points I made after a marathon lecture was that I was not a miracle worker. It was up to them to turn within themselves and listen. To listen to their own bodies' feedback about what they were doing right and wrong and make the necessary corrections. This type of listening was going to be the hardest exercise of the weekend. I explained how it was the attention to detail, not how hard we could hammer, that was going to make us better skaters.

I told them what my own weaknesses were (turns, sprinting, and balance over my left side) and how for so long I shied away from taking extra time to practice these weaknesses. I pointed out that if we spent enough time on our weaknesses eventually they'd become our strengths. I promised not to remold every skater in my image. I was simply going to be a facilitator. I would take the best of what everybody had and improve upon it, refining here and there but ultimately letting everybody's own style shine through.

Progress, although punctuated oftentimes by leaps and bounds, is mostly incremental. It's something that you don't necessarily notice day by day along the way until you take a step back and realize how far you've come. I made this point the next day in relation to my stretching routine, a series of active, standing stretches that have improved my flexibility and prevented injuries. Seemingly impossible contortionist postures, these poses are attainable after only a couple weeks of diligent effort yet take years to master. That's what makes stretching, and skating for that matter, so attractive. It's something difficult enough to keep us continually challenged, and we can always stay motivated by holding out the hope for future improvement.

After stretching on Saturday morning we set up an oval in the parking lot of a large mall and began skating the track, regrouping every few minutes for pointers and new drills. We were all looking for the perfect balance point which would allow us to glide effortlessly, without having to flex all the little muscles around our ankles and shins to correct our imbalances. If we could just teach our bodies to find this point in the straights and turns, the energy savings would be enormous, especially in a long race like Athens to Atlanta.

After more turning drills, it was time for everybody to skate a straightaway and a turn for the camera, which we would analyze later that evening during a pot-luck dinner. This provided an opportunity to critique form in a friendly setting. I had a form on which to make comments about each individual skater. These were their report cards.

The afternoon session was held in a well paved, practically deserted business park. There was a 1 mile stretch which we skated back and forth on, regrouping at each end in the shade for mini-lectures to illustrate certain points. For example, I explained my idea of gears on skates, actually a continuum of ratios limited only by our stroke frequency and the power we can apply to our skates. We practiced skating these gears, alternating between super low gear, which meant a high stroke frequency with a minimal application of power, and high gear, which required lots of power but a marked decrease in tempo. Another important drill we practiced was sculling, or skating without ever lifting our wheels off the ground. This helps emphasize a lateral push directed with the heel, with a little carve at the end. Prolonging our glide was another major objective. We spent as much time as possible on one skate stalled in a balanced glide position. We also had a practice race unlike most races we're accustomed to: a slow race. The idea was to skate in super slow motion and be the last one over the finish line.

On Sunday, we held the race for real. The only rule was simply to be on one skate or the other at all times, a difficult proposition indeed. The last 15 finishers of the slow race got a special t-shirt. Desmond Shaw was last, and therefore declared the slow race winner. After our race we worked the hills, incorporating some of the previous day's work with gears to help us get up and over them. We broke up the hills into various segments and talked about how to pace our effort and what combination of gears was needed depending on the hill's length and pitch. We discussed the psychological importance of going over the crest of a hill with a good head of steam.

Downhill technique was also covered. We went over when to tuck and when to skate down a hill, the ideal aerodynamic position, and how to prevent and correct speed wobbles. We had another race. This time the objective was to accelerate up to maximum speed going downhill and then tuck and roll as far as possible. Victor Crichton won this one.

The afternoon session consisted of off-skate workouts that complement my skate training by delivering extra power and explosivity. Traditionally called dryland training or pliometrics, I refer to these exercises simply as jumpies. Jumpies, simply variations on the theme of leaping and bounding, make your legs feel heavy and sore, but after backing off on them for a few weeks, you feel the rebound effect, and are as springy as a gazelle. The beauty of jumpies are that they can replace weight lifting and make you just as strong (and sore) but more explosive. As a group we did some jumpies with dry skating in place as recovery in between. These were probably the most intense 10 minutes of the whole weekend.

After jumpies I broke out the ultimate torture device, the stretchcord. It's a bungie cord with a waistbelt on either end, worn by two people. One person dry skates a crossover stroke while the other offers resistance. This is an incredible training tool which builds power and encourages good habits, like leading with the hip into the turn.

All too soon it was time to go. There were 25 very tired, but happy campers at the end of the day. I have to thank them all for coming. I ended up really admiring my pupils for their commitment to learning, their abilities to process information and put it into practice. I hope to see them again soon to make sure that some of the stuff I said actually sank in. That satisfaction would be my ultimate possession.

Eddy Matzger has been skating professionally for six years and is based in Berkeley, CA. His livelihood is made possible by the generous support of his sponsors, TWINCAM bearings, Kryptonics wheels, Roces Roadskates, PowerBar, and Breathe Right. Those interested in attending a weekend clinic should contact Bob Flynn (813) 443-3038.