peoples, places and things

Tessa Virtue & Scott Moir - The Great Gig in the Sky Free Dance

They move completely in unison and conversation not only with each other but the music and the ice. They are mere conduits. Mere vessels.

But at their first practice sessions with such elite teams, the siblings were intimidated by being on the same ice as the champion couples and instinctively stuck by the boards. Alex remembers Moir skating over to tell them that the ice belonged to them as much as it did the other teams who were there. “I’m surprised they remember that,” says Moir. “I certainly didn’t! But we all understood the importance of the training environment and wanted people to feel welcome, take their space, and bring their own energy.” [...] Moir recalls trying to navigate the heightened emotions that come with elite-level competition with Virtue, even as people made assumptions about their relationship. “They said, ‘You are in love, you’re dating.’ We never had a relationship off the ice, but our strength was our relationship,” he says. “It’s the most beautiful part of ice dancing—having to be in perfect unison with someone, having to deal with the human aspect but still perform, and how to be there for someone when they need you the most. How did we get there? It was ugly. It was hard work.” For Virtue and Moir, it took marriage counseling–the closest type of support they could find for an ice-dance team at the time–as well as mental coaching. Moir says that 10 months before their first Olympic appearance, in 2010 in Vancouver, they had an argument that created such a breach of trust that they didn’t speak to each other or skate together for a week. “I know it sounds cliche,” says Moir, “but we didn’t communicate our feelings and that ended up leading to a lot of resentment.”

Tessa Virtue and Scott Moire - Moulin Rouge routine