From ice to concrete: rediscovering myself

Written by Gabrielle Patracuolla

When people ask how I found skating, I always pause for a minute. I clutch my board and try not to get choked up, because it is not a short story.

I grew up figure skating, and I lost that dream to injury and chronic pain at 15. So many years of my life revolved around the ice at my home rink. I met my best friend there. I had my first crush there. I broke my first bone there. I coached kids there. I learned what it meant to work hard there.

The rink was my second home.

When I lost skating, I did not just lose an outlet. I lost my community. I lost a huge part of my identity. It had been the foundation of so many friendships and so much of who I was. Suddenly, that foundation was gone and I was not sure I would ever find something like it again in this lifetime.

Through the rest of high school and college, I coached as a way to stay close to the sport that raised me. I loved working with kids, but something was still missing. My inner child was screaming to feel that indescribable magic again.

Looking back, I realize I was not just searching for another sport. I was searching for the community and sense of belonging I felt every time I stepped into the rink.

When I moved to Central Texas, I brought my longboard with me. But I lacked the confidence to ride it, so it sat collecting dust for almost four years.

Then, in the spring of 2025, I found three incredible women in Austin organizing a womxn’s skate group through Instagram. I dragged my best friend to one of their group skates. I walked away with a renewed sense of purpose.

There they were, a group of women and allies teaching, laughing, and embracing each other. It felt like a scene from a movie. More than ten years after losing the ice, I realized I was closer than ever to that feeling I had been searching for.

At the start of the new year, I wrote this about what these women mean to me:

“This group brought me to so many incredible women who cheer each other on both on and off our boards. These women have taught me that strength is not just about landing tricks, it is about showing up scared and doing it anyway. It is about celebrating when someone finally nails the trick they have been working on. It is about the way we sit together after sessions, comparing bruises and sharing stories, building something deeper than friendship.

In this community, I have found women of all ages and skill levels who remind me that it is never too late to start something that scares you. We have created a space where falling is not failure, it is just part of the process. Where progress is not measured against anyone but yourself. Where every session is an invitation to be brave, to be playful, to be exactly who you are.”

This skate community brought me back to myself. I found joy again. Sure, it is cool to learn new tricks and build confidence on the board, but the best part is that I rediscovered that indescribable feeling. I feel closer to myself than I ever have.

It is more than freedom.

To every woman who has shown up, pushed through fear, and offered a hand or a cheer, thank you. You gave me back something I had been searching for over a decade.

If you are searching for belonging, confidence, or a way back to joy, I hope my story resonates. Dust off that board or go find your very first one.