pace space

I don't know about you but I find pace lines very zen.

There I am, skating along at a good clip, wind gently cooling the sweat from my brow, free from the need to make direction and speed decisions.  My view is tunneled to up and down the line, occasionally having a brief encounter with a set of shoulder blades with an amusing nom de guerre written across them as they zip in front of me.  Round and round the track... going with the flow... it almost puts me in a trance.

I noticing my skates going back and forth.  Back and forth.  Just noticing.  No need to attach myself to any particular step or push.  Just back and forth.  Letting go...

I'm pretty sure this revelation would piss off some of my coaches.  I mean, being in a pace line isn't just about one or two skaters making their way up and down the line, weaving, hitting, pushing, whipping or whatever is the move of the moment, it's also about learning to vary your speed to keep an even spacing between yourself and the person in front of you and to sharpen your awareness of players speeding up to cut around you. I'm supposed to be paying attention.


Back and forth, keep skating, back and forth...

Still, most of the action on a pace line is focused on the player going through, while the role of place keeper in the pace line is relatively, especially considering the usual sadistic nature of derby practice, undemanding.  In fact, with only one notable exception being the indomitable Tye Die, who believes that pace lines should jump, spin and do the hokey freakin' pokey, I have never had anything more demanded of me than to touch the girl in front of me.  If you have monkey arms like me, it's a good time to zone out.

Back and forth...

If it wasn't for the pesky fact that eventually I end up at one end of the line or the other and am forced to do something about it (weave, hit, push, whip, and so on), I think I could sink quite deeply into a meditative state.  I think that if I could skate a pace line twice a day for a twenty minutes stretch each I could reduce the stress in my life.  I would, actually, go as far as to suggest that if I could extend those twice daily meditations by several hours I'd have a good shot at enlightenment.

I could ride the pace line all the way to Buddha-hood.

One note of disclaimer: this pace line zen only works when skating with experienced skaters.  Generally, the better the player, the deeper the meditation.  When skating in a pace line with novices, if one does not pay attention, one can oneself skidding face down across the floor into the boards, wheel locked with a profusely apologizing freshie.  Facial contusions and a broken ankle can perhaps be a spiritual experience, in a serious asectic manner rather trying to find your happy Buddha nature.

I am more of a middle track kind of gal.

a little less fresh

Practice tonight.  Five minute skate.  Twenty eight laps.

Twenty fucking eight.

Okay, I'm done.

(Go Me!)

congrats, it's a derby girl

A couple of new things from tonight.

First, I wore my knee gaskets for the first time.  They are beautiful!  Almost a religious experience.  I have a perpetual bruise about 5 inches in diameter on my kneecap, that I re-inflame every practice, and tonight, well, it was like landing knees first on a marsh mellow.  Knee gaskets = good.

Second, I'm fairly certain that derby cured my head cold, at least temporarily.  I didn't even want to go because I was feeling like a bag of smashed assholes.  But, after merciless teasing from The Man (C'mon!  You're a tough derby girl, aren't you?  Don't be such a pussy!), I went to derby, just to get away from him.  And my head felt clear and good all night long.  So, there you go.  Derby = cure to common cold.

Third, I had to explain to The Man tonight how I ended up with another man's scratches on my back.  See, I've always maintained that the most dangerous thing about roller derby* is news presenters that show up once a month or so, put on roller skates - often for the first time ever - and then get on the track.  A presenter is just another word for speed bump, bless their brave little hearts.  Tonight, I was once again proven right as the speed bump from the CBC was going down in a jam and made a grab for the closest thing to try to steady himself.  That was me.  At least he didn't actually rip my shirt off.

Anything else?  Oh, yeah, almost forgot.  I popped my derby cherry tonight.  Not a full out bout, a full dress scrimmage, but it was as close to derby as I've gotten so far.  And, as the coach reassured me, I didn't suck, so I consider it a successful entry into the world of actually playing derby.  Finally.  After practicing for nine months, I finally had me a scrimmage baby.  

* Okay, The Man just pointed out to me that I previously said that the most dangerous one on the track is the rookie, simply because we get in the way and are fairly unpredictable, not knowing what the fuck is going on and all.  But, other than the rookie, media people playing at rollergirl are also very dangerous, mainly for the same reason.  Still, nobody wants the rookies or the media to go away, so I guess that's why we all wear helmets.  

sunday amusements

Of all the versions of Melaine's Brand New Key out there, here is my new favorite.

OCDG vs. Calgary's Hellion Rebellion

Can you guess what happened on September 19th?

Here are some hints.

There were crutches,

zebras,

weirdos that everyone pretends they don't know but felt very happy they were there nonetheless,

circular motion,

booty bumping,

RC Sirens,

mouth guard parking,

winning-ness,

and a happy coach.

Congratulations Oil City Derby Girls, Wild Rose Challenge champions.   

Today Alberta, tomorrow the world.

enough said

I'm overwhelmed!

I was thinking that I need to take a little break from active derby training. I am moving to another town sometime in the next month or so, which means a switch to yet another league, I'm also expanding my online business into the real world, which is is going to take much more time and care, AND I've got this extra heavy fatigue thing going on right now, what with spending all my time wrestling a belligerent abet adorable toddler.

I could really use to take the extra 10 to 15 hours derby now takes a week and spread it around a little. Some dry land workouts there, some getting shit done over there, maybe even getting some blogging done over here, seeing as it's hard to keep up on a derby blog while active in derby since there is no freaking time. You play or you write about it. Not both at the same time.

All these good reasons to take a small step back and pick up again in a few months once everything calms down.

But, then, when would I skate? I would miss the hum of my wheels on the track, the quick step step step to get around the turn, the weaving the skates in figure 8s and trying to spell out dirty words with my sticky skates during the warm up. The frightened squeak of the fresh meat when I come in for a shoulder nudge, the chasing of a escapee jammer, the satisfaction of a well executed positional block. Skating, scheming, shoving. I love this stuff. Even the things that make my legs quiver, like that breathless moment right before I try for a quick speed transition to do a tomahawk stop or getting on the track with the Big Girls knowing that they'll goat me and shove me out over and over again.

So, instead of backing off, I'm going to take it up a notch. Perhaps this is all the evidence you need to finally label me a masochist and be able to ignore most of my ramblings here as loony talk.

But hear me out first. I can't seem to do much about the time derby takes, since I still have what amounts to a three hour drive twice a week to attend practices. Plus any extra time doing whatever needs done. And I can't say that stopping the derby would do much for my fatigue. What would help there is if my kid would take a bloody Valium, go to bed before 10 pm and sleep past 6 am. Actually, I'm fairly confident the six hours of commute time a week AWAY from my kids actually helps keep me sane and them alive. So, that's not really a problem per se (sad baby faces as I leave not withstanding).

(Have I mentioned lately how much I love my kids?  I do.  Despite what you may have heard here.)

Now, what else was I whining about earlier? Oh, moving. Moving! Well, I'm fairly certain there will be derby now, next month, and next year, all ready for me when I am ready for it. But it also means that while I am busy living life, all my cohorts will be training hard and getting way better than me. Call it a residual neurosis from my teenage years, but I hate hate hate being left out.

And then expanding my business and essentially quadrupling my work load? It's probably better to be fit and healthy to help handle the stress.  Yes, siree.  (I think this is a particularly good rationalization, don't you?)

It seems to me that with things important yet optional to us, hobbies, bad habits, children, that we have to occasionally take stock of the situation and reevaluate it's position in our lives. Is the time, hard work and expense still worth it to me for this particular thing I do? Since it's not, you know, crucial to survival?  And actually cuts into my tv watching quite severally?  Every decision we make simultaneously opens doors and slams others. Even the good takes away stuff.  We can't do everything. I've got to ask, what is it the derby adds to me life? What does it take away?

Well, I've thought about it - I won't bore you with the details - and decided how I am going to approach this particular time and energy crunch curve ball. I am going to train as much as I can through out this move to continue to develop my skills, but I am going to make the derby learning much easier by up my general fitness with boot camp-esque workouts and endurance exercises.  Should, theoretically, help with the tiredness also.  Right?


It's the least I can do.