There are so many hills on campus—a sick design flaw, if you ask me—that my knee is aching by the time I reach the student center. I reach down, rubbing it through my jeans, feeling the surgery-smooth scar. Like every figure skater, I had my fair share of injuries, but my last one, my knee, never quite healed as neatly as the doctors hoped. When it’s cold like this, the air seeping through my clothes, it makes my body even stiffer.
