Which Way's Macy's?

Some of the bizarre perks to being a rollergirl are the events you get involved in. Some are charity based, some are guest bartending based, and some involve you freezing your tookus off skating in a parade for two hours, avoiding horse poop to the best of your abilities. This was my second year skating in a parade - the first year I definitely took a more subtle approach. Instead of waiting in the cold pre-parade line up, I sat on the curb by my house, laced up and ready to go as my neighbors stared sideways at me. "I'm in the roller derby, " I said. "Really, I'm going to join my friends as they come by."  "Seriously, I'm one of them, I swear." They sipped their coffee suspiciously and tried not to engage me in further conversation. Finally the parade marched on, my fellow skaters whizzed by, and I was able to prove that I did actually know them. "See? See?? I'm cool!" Well, until a block later when I bit it on an asphalt crack.

This year I decided to attend the whole kitten caboodle - skate in the whole parade - and BOY what a mistake that was! I don't care who you are, you cannot be festive and wearing skates and wearing enough to remain warm in 30-degree-snow-flurrying weather. Not possible. Not even the giant inflatable candy cane balloon that kept blowing into our line of vision could cheer us up as we wondered things like "What's taking so long??" and "How come the Ravens football team gets to sit in a warm BUS, the big wusses??"

But eventually, thankfully, the parade started, we de-iced our toes and numbly skated along, trying to stay upright on the pothole-ridden street and emit tidings of happy jolly derby cheer. And it wasn't long before the community spirit hit us. We thought WE were cold - there were people of all ages sitting, standing, bundled up, lining the entire parade route. We were going to advertise the league, say hi to our fans, participate in fun local camaraderie. But these people on the sidelines - they were freezing their balls off just to say hi, smile, and encourage us on.

And that has to be, by far, one of the best parts I've experienced since moving to the city. Neighbors who will come out, hell or high water, all rosy-cheeked and drunk at 2:00 in the afternoon, just to show their support.

The title of this post is courtesy of John Roberts. :)

Weak Sauce

Yes folks, I'm still hibernating. :) Actually, since the off-season began in November, I was going to practice about once a week, and stressing out over not going more than that. Then after having to miss a couple practices in a row, I thought - you know what? Eff this noise. This is the off-season, a time to re-assess and get all my little derby and non-derby duckies in a row, relax, enjoy, get fat, etc. etc. I keep getting trapped between having to miss practice for one reason or another, and then stressing/obsessing over what I missed out on. I did enough of that at the end of last season, so I need to end this trend NOW.

Derby is incredibly demanding and can swallow your whole world up if you let it. For some people, that's what they want, and that's awesome. For those of us who are a bit all over the place, want to do EVERYTHING they're interested in all the time, and forget you need time to work and play and socialize and run errands and work on art projects and work on writing/illustrating books, ... it gets a little stressful. So I started to neglect derby. A LOT. And it's not something you can ignore or take lightly (see above with the swallowing).

I'm not saying you can't do derby and do other things. That's what I'm trying to work out at the moment. I just think everything that deserves your attention deserves ALL of it. So if it's Monday night and you have practice, you go to practice. That time has been allotted for derby. End o' story. If it's Tuesday and you could go to practice or catch up on stuff you've been neglecting, catch up. And so on. Make time for derby and put all your gusto into it, but treat the rest of your life the same way. I'm trying to think of it as tunnel vision. Or as my multiple personalities kicking in. "Derby Monica can't hear you right now, unless it's about Derby. But talk to me after a couple of hours, and Friend Monica or Illustrator Monica might be able to answer your question."

So in emphasis of this fact, I quit going to practice half-assed in the off-season. I said, I am taking time off, this is the date when I will return. And once I return, I will be newly committed. And until then, I'll still be exercising and stretching because - oy. Those muscles do disappear fast!

Beep-beep-beepin' Outside That Comfort Zone

Derby's already taught me a lot about what I'm capable of. But another wonderful side effect is what it's taught me about what I am willing to do to get there. Like most people, I prefer not making a spectacle or an ass out of myself in any way, shape, or form. It's just something I'd rather not do. I don't like being the center of attention, and most of the time I prefer to blend into the background. (Does that mean I prefer to wear conventional clothes, make-up, hairstyles, and do what most people do? No. That's another story.) Unfortunately, I tend to be quite noticeable, which was unfortunate throughout my school years. I don't have the best possession over my appendages, I'm someone who should never eat in public, etc. etc. Then something magical happened as I meandered into adulthood - I really stopped caring. Enough awkward, embarrassing, cringeface things had happened to me by that point, that I figured adding another thing or two to my list wouldn't really matter. After all, this line of thinking is responsible for getting me skating in the first place (full awkward story featured in the JAM! book). This has done nothing but benefit me so far throughout my derby career - as long as I don't mind making a complete fool out of myself, I will keep progressing. After all, how many times have I seen skaters I admire take embarrassing tumbles? Many. So many. And all it does is add to my love and the feeling of camaraderie and companionship within the sport.

Anyhoo. So we had a practice the other night led by a former childhood figure skater, who showed us all kinds of crazy drills to test your balance on skates. One, she had us balance on one leg, while swinging the other leg like a pendulum to the left and the right in front of our body. In theory, the momentum would eventually propel us forward as we remained balanced on the one leg. It was an extremely awkward and weird feeling (especially reversing the process, swinging a leg behind you in order to skate backwards) that made me feel like I didn't even know how my body worked. But from my experience, this has been the only way I've learned anything about skating so far - doing something that feels SO odd, SO crazy, that the more I do it and get used to that feeling the more I've expanded my skills repertoire.

My off-season goal: to keep practicing awkward drills like this until I resemble Gene Kelly's insanely awesome roller skating in this movie from the 50s.

Carry On My Wayward Off-Season

That's right, the off-season! I made it! I have officially survived my first roller derby season. Whew. And luckily the last bout was enough of a blast that it inspired me to want to train harder and get better even though I'm finally allowed to slack off. One thing I know now is that I fit in roller derby. Now I get to spend the next season figuring out how I want to fit. This will be no easy task. At first I slid easily into the "tall/lanky" category. Then we got a few more tall lankies on the league, so that was out. Tall, lanky, with potential to be fast? Unfortunately I got blown out of the water by other girls a long time ago. Speed can no longer be my thing. Other tallies have also claimed the grasshopper slots, the daddy long legs slots, the ninja slots ... so what's left for me to claim? I can take up room on the track? Roadblock?

Perhaps. I made the huge mistake (never, ever ever try this at home) of watching some of our latest bout footage in the morning before heading to work. In the morning, so there was no booze involved. Watching footage of the bout I was so proud of myself for - the bout where I actually moved and hit people and made a contribution.

Ugh.

It was so painfully horrible to see myself in action. My performance was most akin to the balloons in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade - slow, wide, lumbering. Grraaaadually drifting over to the inside line to hit someone. Slowly eaaaassssssinngg over to help out a teammate. No quick movements, no lateral movement whatsoever. Slow and steady as she goes.

(this isn't the point of derby)

So even though I really, really don't want to, I'm going to gear up to re-watch. People have been telling me that watching yourself on tape is one of the best ways you can learn how to improve. (oh god) And luckily the rest of my team wants to watch, with alcohol, so maybe I won't be entirely focused on my hideous performance. No one likes to watch themself on tape. Even my captain declared that when she witnessed her own performance, she knew then and there she should become an NSO (Non-Skating Official). That made me feel an eensy bit better.

So here we go - onward into the off-season, and all the fun and embarrassing training opportunities it can provide!

Add 'Em Up

... the small victories. The time here when you managed to not fall down when that notorious blocker slammed into you. The time there when you passed someone you've never passed before while jamming. The time when you finally figured out what was going on while scrimmaging. The time when you were able to do skate lunges on BOTH legs down the rink (ok ... that's me-specific since my right leg usually gives out on me). So much of derby is big and bold and fast and in-your-face that it's easy to forget all the little steps it takes to get better and better at it. Every once and a while you realize you've figured something out that hasn't occurred to you before, or even better - when you do something on instinct that you remember purposefully practicing over and over again. Those are the little, teeny, impressively important small victories you really have to hang on to when you're in training. I keep forgetting it's not my job to compare myself to other players, their styles, their skills. I need to keep track of what I've actually done and where I need to go. It's good to selfishly focus on your own improvement during practice so that when you're out there with your team - you're thinking of nothing else but them.

And little by little, you'll see the game start to open up and make sense to you. It will no longer seem like a chaotic mess of limbs when all you're thinking about is staying alive. Suddenly you can see - "oh hey there's a jammer in there" and "oh yeah, I need to be playing defense at this particular moment". The sport will suddenly make sense to you, and that's the moment when you'll forget all the frustration it's taken to get there and realize you are now a part of it and you now belong.

This roller derby is no longer their derby -- it's now your derby too.

Super Role Model

I see a lot of Superman insignias everywhere I go - from people's bags to shirts to getting them painted on the rear windows of their cars. Why the obsession with Superman? He always seemed so boring to me. Born with amazing abilities that no one can touch. Ho-hum. I never found him terribly relatable. Only when I was obsessed with Smallville did I get invested in what Superman was up to (and I blame that on the allure of Tom Welling). But then I came across Bill's Superman monologue in Kill Bill Vol. 2, and Frank Miller's The Dark Knight Returns and I started to get it. People who like Superman are the same people who value natural talent and ability. Have they had to train to get to that point? Yeah. But training just adds on to their already natural ability. They've got the talent and have discovered what they naturally excel at doing.

So those are the Superman fans. The Batman fans are a different breed - they value technology and smarts above everything else. Weren't born with natural talent? No problem. They'll engineer a solution. They put all their stock in not what they already can do, but what they believe they can figure out. They're crafty, because they've had to be. No one gave them anything they didn't earn.

Both of these types I find can be applied (among other things) to sports. I've met both of these types over and over already in derby. The natural talents who, as soon as they make the league, shoot to the top. They don't understand why other people think it's hard, and it all just seems to fit. The Supermans. Fans especially love the Supermans - they're so glossy and amazing and stand out from the pack so easily. It's hard not to idolize them.  Then there are those who immediately recognize that they aren't the Supermans, but have the drive and ambition to get as far as fast as they can with their ingenuity. These Batmans are self aware and not plagued with doubt or uncertainty - they can sum up their pluses and minuses and figure out where to put them to their best use.

Where do I find myself in all of this? My own personal superhero role model? Well, the philosophy I've found fits best with my "style" in life is the House of HufflePuff in Harry Potter. Of course I always wanted and dreamed of being a Superman. But I'm not. And I'm too plagued with self-consciousness to be a Batman. I'm a HufflePuff - I work hard, I plug away, I slllooowwwwlllyyy and steadily improve. Supermans burn out, Batmans get bored. I keep going.

But I might need something a little more than just recognizing I'm a HufflePuff to keep me motivated and going in derby. Who's the superhero who has overcome mediocrity and kept plugging away until they've succeeded and become amazing? That's the one I can get behind. That's the one who's insignia I want on my car. Even though I work in comics, I'm sadly uneducated in the majority of current superheroes. Recommendations?

Year-iversary

That's right, I almost forgot! A year ago I made it into the league and officially became fresh meat. For a while, that was ALL that I wanted. I was all, "Hey, I never have to be better than this, I don't have to improve at any given rate because I'm IN!!"

Yeah, right - that spirit didn't last. It took my first assessment to bring out my competitve rage -- WHY DOES EVERYONE ELSE RULE AT THIS AND I DON'T?? After that, it was all over. I just had to get better, I had to be on even footing with the others I'd tried out with, I had to get on a team! ... 5 months later, after failing every assessment the first time but passing the second, I was drafted one week after my final assessment. Woo hoo!

So what have I learned over the past year? I started out in derby with a fierce desire to get in, get better, get crackin'. That was all I wanted, and I was convince my heart and my life had plenty of room for derby. I wanted all of its goodness, just for me. I approached each practice like my skills and potential were "on hold" so I wouldn't get too discouraged. "So what if I suck at all of these drills?" I'd tell myself. I'd get better, so there was no use worrying about it in the meantime. SURVIVAL, that's all I wanted. Survival, and not to look like a complete ass. As long as I'm not the worst, and I don't let myself get too frustrated, I'm fine.

That motivation worked for a little while, then came scrimmage time. Until I was eligible to scrimmage, my freshie group and I spent scrimmage nights working on basics in a corner of the rink while the big girls got to duke it out in the main space. For 5 consecutive weeks, someone got seriously injured at each and every one of those scrimmage practices that we witnessed. Each injury guaranteed that that particular skater would be off the league and in recovery for a WHILE. So my fellow freshies and I watched, terrified, dreading the time our chance to scrimmage came about. When it finally did, it was a clusterfuck. Limbs flying everywhere. But I was shocked to discover that I lived, and didn't break anything, and actually got back up after being knocked down. Crazy!

Bouting came next, and that's where the real nerves set in. There was just something about ALL of those people watching, friends and family seeing,  ... the public viewing of my skills that instantly turned my legs to jelly and my nerves to mush. I just let myself get beat on over and over, hoping that I'd at least walk away from the bout. It was always fun seeing the look of horror on my parents' faces as I was knocked for a loop right in front of their seats.

After I had a couple bouts under my belt, my work situation changed and long hours were required. I was able to attend practice less and less. Friends of mine in the league stopped going or quit altogether. I had one more bout and then my season was over - I still had to attend practice and keep my skills up, but it was hard to get motivated. A new crop of fresh meat came in, all eager and shiny and new, and I faded into the background. Not an experienced vet, not a shiny new meatie. More commitments and work piled up, I found practices inconvenient and scrimmages discouraging, and I seriously wondered how long I should play at this derby thing when I could risk breaking my wrist (aka my livelihood) every time I got out on the track. I wasn't that fast, I wasn't that agile, I can't block for shit, and the most I've ever been able to do is get in someone else's way. My team barely sees each other, more people I love are leaving, should I keep doing this?

I didn't have to mull it over for too long before I decided - yes. Of course, I should keep doing this. As terrifying and discouraging and frustrating and inconvenient and demanding as derby is, it's worth it. You won't know if you truly love something unless you put that much work into it. It's never going to be easy, but it is going to be fun and challenging and the feeling you get when you realize you've gotten a little bit better is oh-so-encouraging. As far as I'm concerned, the only thing I really need to manage is my attitude - this is fun. I LOVE this. I love the people and the rules and the community and everything involved. All the negativity I see is only coming from myself.

So yeah - droning on here, but after a year I think I'm allowed to look back and analyze stuff. Yay derby. Our relationship is in its sophomore year. :)

Crawl Back

It's hard getting my groove back - I have no idea how Stella did it. I'm still hiding from scrimmage practice. I have bad memories from the last time I went, got my ass kicked, felt horribly embarrassed, and had trouble breathing. It's so stupid, because it's mainly mental. I'm just getting back into regular practices and scrimmage just doesn't seem right until I've had a few good ones under my belt. I'm not sure what the deal is - I love practice, and I love how much I've improved. True, a lot of people I care about have dropped off of the derby landscape, especially recently. I think that goes a long way towards motivating me. When you feel like a little lone island in a sea of girls with much better skills than you, it's hard to amp yourself up. I love the challenge, but I let myself think too much about everything and it cripples me. This week my mindset is MUCH better. Practice with eager skatertots last weekend helped a lot. I forgot about the FUN part of derby! ... except, of course, when one girl broke her ankle in three places. Just from doing a turn-around-toe-stop. Yikes. That was the second time I'd seen a new skater topple over and break their ankle. Two times two many. Skating isn't a joke, people. The weird thing is I would never have had the guts to try a turn-around-toe-stop at high speeds when I was just starting (*ahem* . . . still don't). I love that this girl had the no guts no glory part down. Sometimes I think that makes the best skaters - I'm so cautious at times it really hampers my improvement.

Balls out is the way to be?

Derby Girl Day!

Today from 12 - 4:00 at Collectors Corner comic book store in Parkville, MD, the Charm City Roller Girls will descend to promote their art, challenge people to Rock Band, and generally awesome things up. I'll be selling my books and signing copies of JAM! so if you're in the area, come pay a visit to your friendly neighborhood rollergirl! :)

Ouchie ow wow

My legs are revolting against me. My inner thighs sear with ripped pain every time I go down stairs or go up stairs or take a step. And sitting down to go to the bathroom? That's the worst. Yes - this is what speed skating class does to me. The first hour of off-skates lower body exercises, sprinkled with random heart-pumping strength training, tire me out. Then I'm expected to pull on my pads over my pre-sweatied skin to begin skating for an hour straight. My legs all a-jello, my technique non-existent, I do my best to stay mobile and not give up. For a while, I stay in the "vets" line, pushing myself to keep up and feeling heartbroken the second I lagged behind and a vet scolds me. I get water, stretch my cramping feet, and then skate around the track by myself, behind the vet line, still participating but by alone in my slowness. If I start to get too sedentary, I rejoin the vet line, push myself, and then slip away before I get too frustrated and discouraged. When Fresh Meat are around, I join the Fresh Meat line, so I can continue at a pace and feel more like I belong. I tell myself I'll push myself and try the vets line at least once every practice. Sometimes it works, sometimes I defeat myself before I make it to the vets line, and head straight for the Fresh Meat line. There's no shame in this line, but I decide that I need to feel shame about it anyway.

Why do I participate in the speed skating session? Because I need to get faster, damnit! I've got what amounts to be the opposite of the skater's physique - I'm long and skinny and klutzy and have unwieldy limbs. If I can't bend my limbs to my will and get them to distract other skaters, I'm done for. If I can't dodge and fake and take off at lightspeed, then I'll be forced to continue with my current routine of getting knocked down, popping up, getting knocked down, etc., until I'm too exhausted to care anymore.

Therefore I've decided that speed skating = good. What's even better? Muscles that ache to that Nth degree that tell you that you're on to something. If you can get used to this shit, you're really getting somewhere.

Committee Commitment

So when you join a roller derby league, it is required that you participate in one of the many roller derby committees. These committees range in scope from governance of the league, to bout production, to merchandise, to grievance, etc. etc. By participating, every skater takes an active role in the development of the league, and the league becomes truly skater owned and operated. So this is awesome. What is not awesome, is spending a huge amount of your free time and skipping practices in order to do said work on the committee. It takes a shit-ton of work to make a roller derby league run like a well-oiled machine. And considering that the skaters on the league vary from full-time students holding down part-time jobs to working mothers with multiple jobs, it's a wonder any of us have time to play derby in general. So when you add in all the practicing, running and skating in bouts, making appearances at local events ... it starts to add up.

And I'm pretty bad at time management (apparently). I want to do everything all of the time. I don't want to miss out on anything. I want to be able to do all the things I enjoy doing, and help out wherever I can. Is that so unreasonable? Unfortunately, this has been WAY easier said than done and now I'm struggling. Luckily we have a wave of super awesome fresh meat coming in, and their enthusiasm can help replenish the vets and the not-so-vets (like me - not even been in derby a year yet) from feeling so overwhelmed and burnt out.

I hope so anyway. Woof.

Snow Shovels and Butt Cracks

I've been buried under snow for most of the week and it's been wonderful. I always love a good excuse to cancel out of the normal, day-to-day schedule and detour off into freedom. Hell, even if it's raining, I'll accept cancellations from friends. It's not just that snow blankets everything and forces it to calm down and shut up for a minute, but it also forces people to pause and reset. It forces you to be local, get out and walk, and laugh at everyone teetering about on the ice. The other morning, I trekked off to Dunkin Donuts, where on my return trip I immediately slipped and planted myself into a snow bank, coffee and bagels and everything in tow. Luckily our snow banks are so massive right now, I was at more of a lean than an actual horizontal position. I still yelped, though, so I couldn't play it off as intentional.

Then, while navigating neighborhood backroads, I noticed all the people digging out their cars who've clearly never before had to do anything of the sort. I saw shovelers in hip-huggers, their butt cracks exposed for all the world to see, impractical high-heeled boots, and overly large sunglasses that wouldn't stay in place. Random garden tools being used in place of anything actually useful on snow. Trendy haircuts destroyed by awkward knit caps and sweaty brows. Obscene statues serving as placeholders for parking spots. It was like a yard sale that people were forced against their will to participate in. The snow exposed everyone -- along with their habits, their athletic prowess, their questionable snow outfits, and what furniture they were willing to put on public display.

The Blizzard is Making Me Fat

All we seem to have in the house is bread, pasta, cheese, and butter. That's pretty much it. Oh, and thank god - alcohol. So even though practice has been cancelled for the week, I'm getting progressively more slovenly and worried about the Return To Derby next week. Today I finally mustered up the energy to get on the treadmill and do some squats and was instantly discouraged. All this work we do in practices and all the staying power it takes to keep up in scrimmages and all the insane adrenaline it's going to take (I assume) to bout -- why does it have to vanish so quickly? After only a couple days I can feel my legs turning to mush. Does the strength and endurance last longer when you've been doing it longer? God I hope so. It's pretty pathetic how quickly my body craves doing nothing. I always assume that when I'm stuck at home I'll work my ass off on all the exercises I'm not keeping up with in practice (I'm looking at you, alternating lunges on skates!) so that I can improve when no one can see me. Alas, it's so much easier for me to get frustrated and quit when I'm trying to hold a core pose when I'm all alone. My unwillingness to attract attention in practice by being unable to do things is my only motivator, apparently. Shame is my co-pilot!

Why Be Derby?

I was in a high school art show my junior year called "Why Be Normal?" It was all about celebrating the different and the absurd (as high school artists tend to be) and supposed to teach people that "different" was fun and cool. Really, preaching to people about "different" at an art show is a moot point. People tend to expect you to be avant garde - to show them something they couldn't do. And in a high school art show, you're already different. That's why you're there. Or at least - you're trying to be different. So the question I get asked a lot now is - Why be derby? People think at a certain point in your life you're done with experimenting with drastically different things, or are unwilling to risk the time and investment a new hobby takes. They figure that if you ARE trying new things that require commitment and dedication, then something in your current life must be lacking. It's weird to think that after a certain point you should be done. Settled in your life. When you're finally older, wiser, and financially independent, isn't that THE time to try new things?

I've heard a lot of people gravitate towards derby because they are looking for something - companionship, exercise, or simply something to do 3 - 4 times a week to stave off boredom. Or people say it saved them - gave them a whole different world to immerse themselves in when their own world got a little shitty. I can definitely see how derby works in both of those situations. And I know why I gravitated towards it (exercise, sport, camaraderie, flair, superhero identity, etc etc), but I don't feel like I was looking for any sort of replacement in my life. I tacked it on in addition to doing all these things I already love.

Sometimes that makes me feel a bit guilty. It doesn't really make sense, but is it possible to have too many hobbies that take you away from the day-to-day you're supposed to be involved in?

Skate Fear

Last night was the second time I've seen people respond to those wearing skates with, "No. Absolutely not. Take those off right now or leave." What's the deal? Why the skate hatred? I fear I already know the answer, which just involves people assuming that if anything ever happens to you in a place you don't own yourself, you'll sue everyone. And their moms. Because that seems to be the sole motivation for most of the things we do in this country. Can I make money off of this? Can someone make money off of me for this? Those are the only questions we find necessary to ask.

And I'm sick of it! Take some responsibility for your actions! Have some integrity to admit when you were stupid! Grow a pair! If you trip and break your ankle on that sidewalk, you're a klutz. You're not eligible for thousands of dollars. Oh, and that coffee is hot. And that bag is not a toy for babies.

I can understand if you're skating around, scaring people, or creating a dangerous situation. No one wants that. I don't even like performance art near me. But if you're standing still, or stepping slowly around on skates, on a carpet, because it's novel and attracts more people to want to talk to you about derby and your cause, why the hell not? Because you could bust your own ass and then blame everyone else for it. Of course.

There Will Be Bruises

Last night was my second scrimmage with my new team. It was a mixture of some teammates I've played with before, some returning vets who I haven't played with yet, and some unteamed freshies. The warm-up was unfortunately awful for me - it focused on close hitting, so you skate next to your partner and repeatedly tap them over and over. Hit, reset, hit reset. Stuff that I really need help with. But my timing is so dreadful that most of the time my hits are comparable to a nudge. *Nudge* Hey you, mind getting out of my way? *Nudge* Wait, you're still in my way ... *Nudge* Why haven't you fallen down yet?

And in contrast, as soon as it's the other person's turn to hit, I fall nearly every time. Which is frustrating and eventually embarrassing. I almost feel it necessary to apologize. And I hate that when I get frustrated my first instinct is to complain and give up. "This is bullshit! I'm outta here ..." Then a few seconds later I'm ready to try again. I've really got to get this hitting thing down. A lot of it is about timing and coordination, and I'm a bit lacking in those areas.

The hesitation, combined with my ineffective blocking tendencies, are then taken into scrimmaging -- where everything is already a hot mess. It's like tossing a baby foal into a pen full of hungry lions and screaming at it "FIGURE IT OUT!!!" and all the foal can think is "Hang on ... I just figured out I can walk here ..." I try to get as low and wide as possible, so at least I have the hopes of appearing like an impenetrable wall. It can work until I realize I'm staying in one place, and not shifting around enough. Or until I realize my team has been shouting at me to do something other than what I've been doing. And I hear the shouting. Oh, yes, I do in fact hear it. Do I acknowledge it? Usually not, if it's all negative. Because surprisingly, negative reinforcement doesn't motivate me all that much. Maybe I should mention that to someone ... I'm definitely trying to discern what the hell is going on and how I can be at least a little bit useful, but the basics of strategy can just zoom right by me.

I think I did learn some important things though:

1. Whenever certain people hit me, we'll both go down in a blaze of glory and I'll be amazed I can get back up again
2. Listen to what your bench coach is shouting at you, not your benched teammates
3. Refs are confusing and will be ignored until they make me get off the track
4. Look behind you, not in front of you
5. Pay no attention to those blockers purposefully, repeatedly targeting you - chances are they've already distracted you from something you should be doing
6. Stop touching the other team so much (hello, forearm penalties!)

And even though some of my teammates might be crazy, we're clearly all crazy for doing this. So hey - that's two things in common!

There Will Be Bruises

Last night was my second scrimmage with my new team. It was a mixture of some teammates I've played with before, some returning vets who I haven't played with yet, and some unteamed freshies. The warm-up was unfortunately awful for me - it focused on close hitting, so you skate next to your partner and repeatedly tap them over and over. Hit, reset, hit reset. Stuff that I really need help with. But my timing is so dreadful that most of the time my hits are comparable to a nudge. *Nudge* Hey you, mind getting out of my way? *Nudge* Wait, you're still in my way ... *Nudge* Why haven't you fallen down yet?

And in contrast, as soon as it's the other person's turn to hit, I fall nearly every time. Which is frustrating and eventually embarrassing. I almost feel it necessary to apologize. And I hate that when I get frustrated my first instinct is to complain and give up. "This is bullshit! I'm outta here ..." Then a few seconds later I'm ready to try again. I've really got to get this hitting thing down. A lot of it is about timing and coordination, and I'm a bit lacking in those areas.

The hesitation, combined with my ineffective blocking tendencies, are then taken into scrimmaging -- where everything is already a hot mess. It's like tossing a baby foal into a pen full of hungry lions and screaming at it "FIGURE IT OUT!!!" and all the foal can think is "Hang on ... I just figured out I can walk here ..." I try to get as low and wide as possible, so at least I have the hopes of appearing like an impenetrable wall. It can work until I realize I'm staying in one place, and not shifting around enough. Or until I realize my team has been shouting at me to do something other than what I've been doing. And I hear the shouting. Oh, yes, I do in fact hear it. Do I acknowledge it? Usually not, if it's all negative. Because surprisingly, negative reinforcement doesn't motivate me all that much. Maybe I should mention that to someone ... I'm definitely trying to discern what the hell is going on and how I can be at least a little bit useful, but the basics of strategy can just zoom right by me.

I think I did learn some important things though:

1. Whenever certain people hit me, we'll both go down in a blaze of glory and I'll be amazed I can get back up again
2. Listen to what your bench coach is shouting at you, not your benched teammates
3. Refs are confusing and will be ignored until they make me get off the track
4. Look behind you, not in front of you
5. Pay no attention to those blockers purposefully, repeatedly targeting you - chances are they've already distracted you from something you should be doing
6. Stop touching the other team so much (hello, forearm penalties!)

And even though some of my teammates might be crazy, we're clearly all crazy for doing this. So hey - that's two things in common!

I Choose Pretty Over Safe Any Day

While driving home in the pretty pretty snow that everyone around here bitches about so much, I realized how rare it is to get moments alone on the road. The snow covers everything evenly and you're not quite sure where to direct your car. It's still and quiet and I'm forced to drive slowly and take it all in. I could choose whether to crawl along, surrounded by nervous drivers on all sides on a salty highway covered with streetlights, or ... I could choose the secondary roads they don't plow. The roads my car might have trouble twisting around the corners and getting up hills and slipsliding into gutters. The roads where I get to be responsible for my own safety and destiny. Have I always been this stupid -- to choose the long, arduous, more visually appealing road than the safe, quick, boring one? Yes. It's the same reason I choose grocery stores that are more expensive - they have better lighting and smaller aisles. The same reason I put on lipstick even when I'm sick - it makes me feel better. The same reason I make the bed every morning - it convinces me that part of the room is clean.

I was listening to my favorite paranormal podcast today and the hosts took turns going to a hypnotist to regress into their past lives. They had totally different experiences while under, but their trancy, slurred responses to questions  about where they were and what they were wearing were mesmerizing. I've wanted to go to a hypnotist since I saw Dead Again and convinced myself that my past life, too, would totally be glamorous and full of intrigue. In reality, I'm probably the guy in prehistoric times who gets eaten by the lion, a la Albert Brooks in Defending Your Life. But I do kind of wonder if I'm the same now as I was in the past, despite the circumstances. Have I always chosen aesthetics over safety and survival? If we're to believe there are past lives buried in each of our subconsciousnesses, then we have to believe they carry part of who we are now in every single one. So I probably have never been any braver, or smarter, or more interesting than I am now.

And in a weird way, I find that kind of comforting.

My Ass is Definitely Bigger

Yesterday I decided to bust out the tape measure so I could order some booty shorts, and I was struck by how many inches my hips have grown. Which may be the cause for some alarm in most women but actually makes me a little proud. I've always been built like a 12-year-old boy, so the fact that I have any curve-age at all is encouraging. Just like when I was in ballet and I built my arch up, derby has allowed me to build my ass up.

http://derbyskinz.com/

It Starts Now

My thumb hurts. Yesterday was supposed to have been the culmination of a year and two month's hard work - my first roller derby bout. I would've finally had a chance to see what I was really made of and whether or not the training had made me capable of bouting in public. Instead, it snowed a lot more than expected and stalled all the normal derby activities that usually occur.

Along with one active and one inactive rollergirl, I spent a scary amount of time driving to the bout venue, navigating trapped cars and trying not to slip too much on the ice ourselves. When we arrived, I got to participate in the dreaded setting up of the track - an activity I'd heard referred to many times and dreaded as some part of rollergirl initiation. See, our league doesn't have its own arena or track to use solely for the purpose of derby. So we practice at roller rinks and bout at an arena normally devoted to soccer. So that means that on bout day, volunteers have to show up hours before the start to lay down our rollerskating track. First there were rows and rows of 3' x 5' plywood that had to be lined up, shoved together, and aligned with a mallet. I put my hands in the wrong position the first time I shoved the plywood together and -- *yeep*. My thumb twinged and moved in a way it wasn't supposed to. "Thank god this is derby, not thumb wrestling," a passing rollergirl chimed in. Next, we slid slabs of skating track off of a pile and, with the help of a partner, carried it out to distribute on the wood planks. I found the slabs unwieldy and kept nearly dropping them, but luckily my partner was forgiving. The underside of the slabs was full of plastic hooks that should've made grasping easier, but instead hooked onto my thighs and threatened to de-pants me. Looking around at all the people working away - rollergirls, rollergirl fans, rollergirl spouses, volunteers, announcers - I wanted to make sure I at least did my part to help with the manual labor. This is one hardworking goddamn league.

After a little over an hour, I left with my rollergirl carpool and made the trek back home to get ready. I heard more advice on what to do and what not to do in my first bout.

"They're going to go after you, because you're new, so be ready for it from the start."

"Trust me, they hold back in scrimmage - you're going to feel what it's like to really be hit by them now."

"Make sure you don't eat too much or too little."

"The floor is definitely different to skate AND fall on - make sure you warm up as much as possible on it."

Luckily the return trip was shorter than the initial trip to the arena, because I was already full to the brim with terrifying warnings. My stomach tied up with nerves and I started wondering why on earth I ever decided to do this. Sure, it's been fun and absolutely thrilling so far, but maybe - just maybe - my derring-do wasn't going to pay off. Maybe this whole becoming a rollergirl thing was just a stupid idea.

The snow continued to fall, and the bout was cancelled. Clearly, I have mixed feelings about it that I hesitate to admit to other people, but overall I was relieved.

• I started learning how to rollerskate in October '08.
• I passed try-outs and made the league in August '09.
• In November I passed my first assessment - proving I was safe to scrimmage.
• A week and a half ago I passed my second assessment - proving I was safe to bout.
• Last Wednesday I was drafted to a team.

It's all so thrilling and sudden and although I was so ecstatic to be drafted in time to play in our first bout of the season, I was a little wary of being drafted right before. Days before. I've barely gotten to know my teammates, and I've skated with them once in scrimmage. So, yeah -- I'm grateful for this extra time to get slightly more used to things before skating in front of hundreds of people. Thank you winter! (But shh -- don't tell anyone -- everyone else is pretty pissed we had to cancel.)

Thus begins my first year as a rollergirl rookie.