At 65, Barb Winkler defies ice and age as a competitive figure skater

On TV, figure skating sparkles with temporary glitter. Olympian Michelle Kwan is old at 25. Yesterday's champion becomes tomorrow's coach or commentator.

It doesn't have to end, though. Skaters 30 and older practice, compete, work with coaches, and win medals.

Barb Winkler of York, Maine, is one of them. Passionate about skating for all her adult life, she entered her first competition at 60. Today, at 65, she has more than 30 medals, and no intention of giving up.

''People ask me, 'How do you pay for your skating?' and I say, 'Social Security,' " she says, showing off the sequined blue dress she'll wear at the International Adult Figure Skating Competition today in Oberstdorf, Germany.

Only in the past 10 or 12 years have adults had their own venues for competition. Thom Mullins of San Francisco, who edits 32degrees, an online journal for adult skaters, says dedication like Winkler's is common.

''Adults do this for themselves. Some can be a bit obsessive, some over the top, some racked with nerves, others as confident as can be."

How do you prepare a Medicare-aged body to compete on the world stage? Winkler walks the beach every day, doing jumps on the sand. She drinks lots of water, gets lots of sleep, and eats right. She warms up before every practice, and stretches afterward.

She knows her jumps may not be as big as her competitors' -- ''but they will be!" she insists. As she builds physical skills, she also focuses on the mental side of skating, striving for a confident, appealing presence.

Does she fall? Sure. She remembers a practice session at the venerable Skating Club of Boston when she cracked her head on the ice. A coach nearby told her he was surprised she got up. ''I wasn't aware there were other options," she replied.

Winkler first skated on ponds as a child in Michigan, wearing secondhand skates. She was in her teens before she saw an indoor rink. At college she began her tests, the hurdles a skater must pass to be judged ready for competition.

When she was a young woman, skating was her hobby. She practiced for tests through two marriages with four children. She managed her time, practicing during her sons' skating classes or the two hours that a bundled-up baby would nap at rinkside.

Coached by Switzerland's Hans Gerschwiler, a former world champion, in New Jersey, she skated into her sixth month of pregnancy. Shortly after daughter Julie's birth, Winkler passed the bronze test, the first big hurdle that proved her a serious skater. She was in her 30s.

In 1982 she wanted to go to the World Championships in Copenhagen but couldn't afford the trip. Instead, she became a tour operator and rounded up a group to pay her way. As she left for the airport, her husband said he was leaving her.

Devastated, she still had a responsibility to Gerschwiler -- her celebrity guest on the tour -- and clients. She determined to have a good time and appreciate every moment. She treasures a memory of US champion John Misha Petkevich cheering her on the dance floor: ''Go, Barbara, go!" That exuberance fuels her jumps and spins today.

After that trip, Winkler's skating became a struggle. Her husband returned, but the marriage was off and on before ending in divorce. Her children still needed her time and attention.

Yet she worked with her coach whenever she could. She remembers one particularly bad day. Her car got rear-ended, she'd had a root canal, and her concentration was shot. With the stoicism of a German who'd been through World War II, Gerschwiler said, ''We're given these days to test us, to see what we're made of."

Whatever Winkler is made of, it likes a challenge. She forgot her troubles and earned that rare gem, a coach's compliment: ''You have never skated more beautifully." She was 48.

In 1990 Gerschwiler retired and the US Figure Skating Association abolished the school figures she'd practiced for years. Divorce, money troubles, and legal problems were finally enough to discourage Winkler. She hung up her skates soon afterward -- for good, she thought. ''I don't think I could have skated then, my heart was so broken."

While she was off the ice, adult skating was growing and changing. Adults were discovering not only the pleasures of skating but the thrill of competition. ''You now see skaters doing triple jumps and double/double combinations, high-level footwork -- it's amazing," says Mullins.

Winkler isn't at that level, but she says she sees no reason to believe she can't get there. She's tackled big challenges before. A magnet on her refrigerator reminds her: ''Success is the best revenge."

In 2000, when she entered her first competition, she chose one on the West Coast where she didn't know anyone. She practiced alone, assembled her program at the last minute, and frantically worked at a weight-loss program. When she reached the ice, the judges' faces were forbidding. ''I was hoping I could get through the number before I burst out of the dress," she says. Groping for motivation, she seized on an advertising slogan: ''Thank you, Jenny Craig!" she said to herself as she skated out. She took a silver medal.

Emboldened, she entered a contest in Michigan, invited her family to watch -- and blanked out on the ice, skating aimlessly till the music stopped.

For her third competition, she again struck out for unknown territory, heading to France. A coach there asked about her program, and she said cheerfully, ''Oh, I haven't made it up yet!" ''Don't you think it's about time?" he replied severely. Only then did she realize her competitors had choreographed their routines months in advance.

At that event she met Boston coach Byron Darden, who worked with her for three years. Those years helped shape and focus the love she feels for the ice.

She traveled to Estonia and Hawaii to compete, and became more professional in her preparation, working to play a role along with completing her moves. When she went back to France last year, she brought two fully choreographed programs. When she came back, she brought two medals, a gold and a silver.

Frequently she skated against women much younger and better qualified -- and, to her surprise, found that some perceived her as a threat. ''Competitors play games," she says, but cold stares and icy hellos became another motivator. ''You want threat, I'll give you threat," she says.

She buys secondhand practice outfits to save money and reads motivational books to bolster her confidence. Unlike many other adult skaters, she has no full-time job, but she does photography and other freelance work, fitting in practice sessions in New Hampshire and Massachusetts.

These days, she spends part of every month at the Ice Castle Training Center in California -- the rink where Kwan trains -- and is coached by Anthony Liu and Mary Couense, who are young enough to be her children.

Some skaters might call their parents for encouragement. Winkler relies on her daughter Julie, who lives in Israel. When Winkler takes the ice in Germany for her 1 minute and 40 seconds in the spotlight, Winkler will wear Julie's gift, a gold-and-silver skate pendant.

After that? There are more tests before the Adult Nationals next year. She wants to pass the silver test, the one she was pursuing when she had to quit skating. When she does -- she won't say ''if" -- she'll get a skater's best reward: more time on the ice.