Homesickness for the place you're in

This season can, for me, be summarized by a feeling of homesickness. Every year until grad school, I moved back and forth from Vermont to Yellowstone, throwing in a couple seasons in Wisconsin and Minnesota every once in a while. And the weirdest thing was feeling homesick for the place I was at! In Yellowstone, people move a lot - it's just the nature of the Park Service. When my friend Alexis's family (my true second family) moved to Alaska but I was still back in Yellowstone the next summer, I had a vague feeling of homesickness the whole season.

That's how I felt with the Dixie Derby Girls this whole year.  I was there the whole time, but so many things were missing, or I was missing so many things.

Chronological recap
March 6 at Big Easy: Missed signing up for this game after mistakenly thinking it was for the newest girls only
March 19 home scrimmage v. Vette City: Busted my knee on the first jam when my kneepad slid off. The first jam! Hobbled around for weeks with a giant fluidy lump and felt sorry for myself. Bought better kneepads.
March 27 at OK City: See above. Still couldn't walk well. Probably cried during game time while I was sitting at home still feeling sorry for myself.
April 10 at Biloxi: Best game ever! Woohoo! Hit better than I ever have during the second half, thanks to a few words from Snidely saying to stop listening to the coaches and just do what needs to be done (sorry, coaches).
April 17 home v. Panama City: Home season opener. Blowout. I felt bad for the other team playing so poorly. No fun to watch and hardly fun to play.
May 1 at Houston: Dad visiting from Vermont. Stayed home.
May 15 home v. Hard Knox: Played in this game but don't remember it. Could have been the one with all the drama on the bench that I tried to not to remember (and succeeded)?
June 12-13 at No Coast and Green Country: After nearly a year of unemployment, got a job. Not able to take time off for days and days of endless driving briefly punctuated by bouts.
June 19 home v. Big Easy: Out of town for a wedding. Back in time to watch the last part of the second game.
July 17-18, Rocket City Rumble: Game v. Tampa. Ugh. We got killed. I didn't get to play much. But when they did put me in, I scored a bunch of points (comparatively speaking, since collectively we certainly didn't score a bunch of points, maybe like 20).
Game v. Memphis. Lots of miscommunication on the bench. Pretty happy with my semi-effective and comparatively penalty-free performance. (Again, comparatively speaking, since, like, half our team was ejected). Emotionally, the beginning of the end.
August 28 home v. Tallahassee: Played well. Had fun. Sad we lost.
August 28 home v. mixed team: Played well. Had fun. Sad the other team wasn't more competitive. Loved skating with the new girls!
September 11-12 at Panama City and Tallahassee: Drove to Minnesota for a wedding and to see relatives.
October 23 at Chattanooga: Pregnant. Found out a week earlier. Had a feeling about it and briefly considered not peeing on the stick for another week so I could still play. Somehow, responsible part of brain won out. Too exhausted to even go watch, anyway.

Emotional recap
So pumped about new season!
So disappointed about stupid injuries.
So happy to have a derby wife! Bettie PageTurner! Triple yay! (I know, an unsocial person like me...?)
So happy about Sky Pi joining derby and becoming awesome! Yay, Lutherans!
So sad about lots of things. Teammates say terrible things to other teammates that can't be undone, and the people saying the terrible things wouldn't unsay them even if they could. As Code of Conduct committee chair, I got to hear all of it. It was so difficult. It's still so difficult. (Imagine how you felt in middle school when people slighted you. Now imagine that in a real-life situation but with people that you actually care about. You know, unlike your former classmates whose names you probably can't even remember.)
So happy about Sindy Sawblade joining derby and becoming awesome! Yay, more Lutherans! (Ha ha.)
So sad about more terrible things being said. We can handle the sticks and stones, but the words hurt so much more. And they're not even intended for me.
So happy about baby! Yay! Baby! (Many fears that this kid will be like me. Many prayers that he or she will be inclined toward Jeff's temperament. The lyrics of Brad Paisley's "Anything Like Me" kind of haunts me. See previous post for details.)
So sad about not playing next season.
But so happy about coaching freshmeat! Woohoo!

And that's my official recap for the season. It might seem like I abandoned this blog, but really I've been deciding (for months, whew!) whether to stay with DDG, which is like home but also like so much homesickness. People always say that home is supposed to be a place of happiness and coziness and all good feelings all the time, but DDG and this past season, I think, are more like Kathleen Norris's vision: "Home ought to be our clearinghouse, the place from which we go forth lessoned and disciplined, and ready for life." I'll be in the same place this year but it will be a whole different feeling.

"Roller derby is too dangerous!"

Age 14. Where am I in this picture? Hint: Right next to Aaron Mutchie.

Age 17. Jumped off the back of this Bronco while it was moving. My tough-guy friends laughed.
Then they were sickened by all the blood and wouldn't help me wipe it off. (I know, Mom, I said I just fell on the gravel. I know you didn't believe me, but I didn't want you to worry.)

Age 18. Climbed into this closet and was stuck about 15 minutes while my friends pointed and laughed. Much photo evidence of this nature - climbing into small spaces and getting stuck.

Age 19. I used to ride my bike a lot. My favorite was riding over rocks and sticks and curbs and slanted surfaces to see how much air I could get. (This, with like a $10 yard sale bike.) A little too ambitious this day, but I did ride another 3 miles or so back into town after busting my face.

Ages 16, 18, and 20. Ran marathons.

Age 20. Swam across this river to climb into a cave on the other side, in March, while camping. It had snowed the night before.

Age 21. Climbed cell phone tower in winter in Minnesota without gloves.

Now, someone tell me that roller derby is too dangerous and that I'm going to seriously hurt myself. I'll take that (much more) calculated risk.

Roller derby riddle

What do these things have in common?

songs
Vienna by Billy Joel
I Wanna Go Too Far by Trisha Yearwood
I Take My Chances by Mary Chapin Carpenter

poem
Swearing, Smoking, Drinking by Susan Browne

novel
We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson

Failure

"There are no failures - just experiences and your reactions to them," said teacher and coach Tom Krause. He also said a bunch of other motivation-y things that teachers and coaches tend to say. I disagree - there are failures. And then there are successes because of them.

Sometimes we say that petty thing because it's so easy. Or we don't do that simple 30-second thing that would make our husband, kid, friend, neighbor feel so good because we just don't feel like it. Or we only give 85% at work because it was a long night. Or because the work isn't that interesting. Or not challenging enough. Or too challenging. Or we complain about our coworkers or families because they're just not living up to our standards.

Last weekend we had the Rocket City Rumble II and it was a resounding success. Mixed with failure... ahem... I mean experiences and our reactions to them. The tournament went smoothly (thanks to HBICs Bettie PageTurner, Zombie Kitty, and many many more), the games were mostly competitive, the hits were hard, and there were no major injuries.

But... we didn't play our best. We didn't keep our cool. We had a record number of penalties and ejections. We came in sixth place out of six at our own tournament. Our team didn't act like a team or feel like a team.

That was the experience. What's our reaction? Should we talk to death about the failures because it's easy? Forget to tell our teammates when they're doing well, even if we think they only do one thing well out of a hundred? Skate 85% because we're not having a mostly winning season this year anyway. Or because we might as well wait till next year to get serious now. Or because we don't have the luxury of 3-hour practices like other teams do. Or enough practices per week. Or too many. Or should we complain about our teammates or coaches because they're just not living up to our standards?

Tom Krause has another cheesy quote, and I agree with this one: "Courage is the discovery that you may not win, and trying when you know you can lose."

So let's be brave. We already know we can lose.

Right now I feel like our team is me on the floor in this picture, everyone cringing and looking away. But we'll be that #78 Tampa girl, skating away successfully, mission accomplished. Just gotta be courageous. And keep doing those things that are so easy but so easily overlooked - encouraging, persevering, giving 100%, and all those other feel-good sentiments that mean nothing on the page but everything in person.

(Thanks so much, specifically, to Zan Axe, Legally Bombed, and Lucia SlammerMOre for your positiveness this weekend. I want to be like all of you when I grow up.)

Hobbies characterize who you are

When you learn a new language, right away you learn how to talk about the activities that you like. This is how you find people like you, people you could be friends with.

A big trend in job interviews is talking about hobbies and interests. Presumably your interviewer is extrapolating what kind of person you really are. You know, on the inside. Your hobbies and interests characterize you.

When you're a kid, you dream about making your interests into a career. My second grade presentation was about my future career as an author. By middle school, I equally wanted to be a copyeditor.

What do my hobbies, interests, and small pleasures say about me?

Crocheting.
Reading.
Appreciating good document design.
Drinking tea with a bit of honey and milk.
Cross-stitching.
Being at church.
Sewing.
Keeping a journal.
Folding laundry.
Taking long bubble baths and sipping white wine.
Writing real, paper letters.
Playing croquet.
Editing, with caveats.
Going for leisurely bike rides.
Washing dishes by hand.

In what ways do my hobbies, interests, and small pleasures not at all represent who I am, you know, on the inside - in the ways that matter?

What kind of person do your hobbies say you are?

This blog is about roller derby.

Read me like a book

This one thing has bothered me all my life. It's my face.

I recently started a new job, and a big part of it is using highly sophisticated equipment and software that's not yet particularly intuitive or user-friendly. I've spent hours revising one of the software manuals. I've spent hours trying to use the software to do aforementioned revising. And I've spent hours trying to figure out snags myself.

This is where my face bothers me.

My boss walks into the room, asks how things are going, I say fine or good or okay or pretty well, and he says, So what's the problem? Last week, suspecting it was my word choice that tipped him off to my stuck-ness, I said, Great! This is really coming together.

I must have come across as sarcastic.

One day he said something like, Well, I know there's something wrong. I can tell by your face.

The other day at practice, Minnie Militia said that people are always telling her she looks angry when she's skating. Apparently that's just her face. I'm pretty envious.

During a practice scrimmage a few months ago, I got some nice rink rash across the top of my hand, and in the two seconds before I could get off the floor and keep skating, one of the refs called off the jam for injury. I asked her why she called it off since I felt fine and was getting up, and she said my face made her think I'd broken a bunch of bones or something. Little tiny rink rash!

I've been practicing my stoicism for years. Also, my "mean face" for the track. You wouldn't know it, though. My face gives away my true feelings.



"Let the stoics say what they please, we do not eat for the good of living, but because the meat is savory and the appetite is keen." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

What I'm waiting for

I don't want to slow down! I don't want to take water breaks! I don't want to catch my breath! I just want to hit some girls, make some walls, break some walls, fall too hard, skate faster, hit harder, skate more, give whips, race the pack, and do it all again - harder - when I'm too tired to breathe -

But I'll listen to strategy, hit 50%, do some committee work, stay in my position, and wait for that one scrimmage that makes it all worth it.

Drama, drama, drama

"Of course there's going to be drama - what do you expect when you have a bunch of women hanging out together?" That's a sentiment I've heard wherever rollergirls convene - and one I don't altogether agree with.

First, let's throw out the gender factor. Anywhere you have more than one person, you have possibility for conflict. Benjamin Franklin said, "Three can keep a secret if two of them are dead." I say, "Two will agree perfectly if one of them is dead." Not as catchy, but you know what I mean.

Second, almost every rollergirl I know thinks of her team as her second family, her derby sisters. (And if she doesn't, she probably just joined!) And almost every rollergirl I know says that sometimes there's just too much drama in derby.

Both of those may be true. And maybe it's because we think of each other as family that we feel comfortable enough to speak up and try to shape our leagues and persuade our teammates with our own ideas.

Mignon McLaughlin wrote, "Family quarrels have a total bitterness unmatched by others. Yet it sometimes happens that they also have a kind of tang, a pleasantness beneath the unpleasantness, based on the tacit understanding that this is not for keeps; that any limb you climb out on will still be there later for you to climb back" (The Neurotic's Notebook, 1960).

And, to me, that pretty much sums it up for family, derby, drama, and how in the end, the combination of them all are okay.

Having the personality for it

In another life, when I was teaching freshman composition during grad school, I totally lost my composure during a student conference. This one girl was struggling to understand how a person could write from different perspectives. I encouraged her to think about the different aspects of people's lives - how a person can be a student and a musician and a daughter and a Christian and a sandwich shop employee and a whatever - and to write from one of those perspectives. This girl is particularly gregarious and was a ringleader in the class, but she still seemed to be stuck writing only with the voice of a stereotypical freshman comp student - declarative sentences, unimaginative vocabulary, 3 to 5 sentences per paragraph.

I said, "Imagine I'm writing, and I want to describe, say, people trying to play pool at Quixote's after having too many shots of tequila." She kind of looked at me funny. I said, "Well, what's one perspective I could take on that?" (I'm thinking, "I could write from the perspective of a sober person sitting at the bar, as the bartender, as one of the drunk pool players, as a girl trying to have a heart-to-heart that keeps getting interrupted by the pool players' loud outbursts.)

My student said, "Uhh, umm, hmm. I don't know. I guess you would take the perspective that research shows that people get uncoordinated when they're drinking and that all these statistics show you should only have a certain amount of alcohol per day. You know - you would write like a teacher. I guess you would probably have to interview some students so you could know what it's like to go to a bar."

And that's when I lost it. I may have laughed until I cried. (Very professional.) This girl apparently thought I was only and always a teacher, and I was less than 3 years older than her! I asked her straight out, "So you think I just stay in this building and think of terrible grammar assignments and grade?" And then suddenly she understood.

This happens all the time in roller derby. I would like to meet a derby girl who tells people she plays roller derby and routinely gets the response, "Oh, that sounds just like you!" or "How fitting!"

My mom recently forwarded me an email from our old pastor's wife: "WOW ... Maria... who'd have thought that quiet little Brigitte would be a roller derby girl!!! I wouldn't have. She just didn't seem to have the personality for it." Every time I read that, I just snicker a little on the inside.

What is the personality for it? What kind of intensity do you hold inside? What kind of resolve? Are you on the track because you're an athlete, because you're stressed, because it's your only thing just for yourself, because all your friends are doing it, because you refuse to get older?

How funny it is that we think we know people even though we know only a few things about one or two facets of their personalities! How funny it is to think about all the ways in which others don't know us at all!

And that's the beautiful thing about it. A bunch of girls who have wildly different lives have somehow found each other and formed hundreds of leagues throughout the world. And suddenly we have something athletic and stress-relieving and important and fun and just for ourselves, and all those differences aren't that important.

And then we can have a good laugh weeks or months later, remembering our underestimating or just wrong first impressions of each other. And then we can get out there and hit some girls!

Crash and Burn

Every roller girl knows how it feels to be coursing with adrenaline, counting the hours till practice, calculating the hours since you last skated, fantasizing about new equipment or hip checks or what it would be like if you could derby-fy your real life activities. It's a love affair, it's an obsession, it's a major part of a life.

And then there's burnout. Aka "the meh." It's the complete opposite of that feeling you get after dominating a hard workout, conquering a new skill, or bonding with a teammate. It's that feeling of too many nagging injuries, too much derby committee work, or too much time away from home or other activities.

That's what I'm feeling now. I desperately love roller derby. I desperately never want to go back to practice, ever. It doesn't matter how much I love my team or the sport or the workout - right now I can't bear to think about tying up my skates, putting on my always-bruising-my-hands wrist guards, or looking at my off-rink league workload. (But, I also know that as soon as my strained leg muscle heals and I get some new wrist guards, I'll be back at it as though my feelings never were lukewarm.)

When have you crashed and burned, and how did you get back into it?

Remembering the thrill

Last weekend, the Dixie Derby Girls traveled to Biloxi to bout the Mississippi Rollergirls. The first half, we played as though we had never practiced together or as though we had all just woken up from long naps in the sunshine. We were sluggish and ineffective. (Since this is my blog, now I'm going to talk about myself - talk about yourself in the comment section!)

I was playing inside, which is a position I had not yet played in a game. All I could think was, "Okay, the coaches said to stay right here and do this one thing for our strategy." At the same time, I was thinking, "Should I hit their jammer? No, I should just keep skating in the place that I'm 'assigned' to. Oh, there goes the jammer. Should I try to hit her next time around? Hmm."

At half time, after a rousing pep talk, I asked our fearless captain, Snidely Bitchslap, what I should do: try to stay in my "spot" or try to hit people. She said something inspiring like, "Just do what you think is best." That sounds sarcastic in type, but for real, it made everything come together for me. I know the basics of roller derby - it was time to stop thinking so much and start playing!

Why is it we get so bogged down with small things and forget the bigger picture? For me this was thinking about strategy instead of using common sense and implementing that strategy. For newer girls, it might be getting tripped up by a particular skill and getting discouraged instead of realizing it's only a small part of the game. Or it's getting angry instead of figuring out how to get better.

The second half was truly a triumph of teamwork. Every girl played harder, smarter, and more together. I stopped thinking and started hitting. (I haven't been so sore since playing rugby in college!) The game came down to the last couple jams, and our team really pulled it together. The win was exhilarating, but even better was knowing how well we worked together to make it happen. And we'll do it again this weekend.

Tights and tutus

Fishnets. Tutus. Belts. Socks. Laces. Tights. Skirts. An integral part of roller derby is the style that goes with it. Rollergirls adorn themselves with any assortment of accessories - bright, muted, matching, clashing, frilly, sleek, vintage, athletic - depending on their mood, their personality, and their budget.

The media makes much of roller derby aesthetics, and many skaters talk about how their outfits make them feel empowered, fun, feminine, boisterous, etc. Conversely, roller derby style also sometimes leads people less familiar with modern roller derby to think it's less athletic just because its participants have more "wardrobe freedom" than in other sports. After one bout, however, it's apparent that the apparel has nothing to do with the athleticism.

Roller derby fashion is also often practical - getting a run in your tights during a fall is better than getting your skin torn open, taking a whip by grabbing a teammate's belt is often easier than grabbing her hips, and wearing high socks can make those kicks to the shin less painful.

Although everyone has her own style, and theirs wouldn't work for me, I'm envious of how good some girls look all the time. My favorites are Babe E. Quakes, Therapissed, Lucy Ferocious, eRacer X, Grim Gracey, and 9 Lb Hammer. I'm a huge fan of tutus, belts, and matching booty shorts with tights, when other people are wearing them.

Although I'm never going to be completely coordinated or strive for ultimate cuteness, I have a history of "dressing derby" even before I'd ever heard of roller derby. These pictures are from my second marathon - I had observed that runners who stood out from the crowd got a lot more cheers, and since none of my family could be there to cheer me on, I was appealing to the crowd with my cloud-pattern tights. (Kind of like derby!)

During the summers, I amused my volleyball team by wearing random outfits to our games. My favorite is the bathing-suit-top/my-brother's-gigantic-shorts combo.



I can't say that my derby outfits or my previous sports' outfits made me feel any more tough, feminine, or empowered, but I thought they were funny!

So, rollergirls, what's your style and why? How does it make you feel? (There's an English teacher statement.)

Fans, what's your favorite style?

Women who hate other women

There are a lot of myths about modern-day roller derby: it's staged, there's punching, only women with questionable morals play, it's not that athletic, it's mainly about wearing fishnets, and on and on.

Then there are a lot of half-truths about modern-day roller derby.

When Cho Cold (who was then just Carrie) asked if I'd be interested in playing roller derby, I had never heard of it. I had never heard the words roller and derby together, and I had no reference point even after she explained the basics of the game.

So then I read everything I could about it on news sites, forums, team websites, and absorbed as much information as I could from the girls from Tragic City Rollers, who helped us so much in getting started.

In many ways, my experience has been like that of others, but in other ways, I just cannot understand why people so often glibly repeat what I consider to be a half-truth about the sport we all love so much:

• "When you're on the track, you're a different person. Roller derby lets you be someone else; you need that persona to get out there and do what you have to do."
• "Roller derby is a sport for women who hate other women."
• "Of course there's going to be drama - what do you expect when you have a bunch of women hanging out together."
• "Roller derby is more about being tough than having strategy."
• "Roller derby is the sport for the counter-culture."

While I think each of these sentiments has some truth in it, I can't stand that they are bandied about and often accepted wholesale.

For today: "Roller derby is a sport for women who hate other women."

I've heard that statement countless times from girls who play and others who are involved in roller derby in some way. That has not been my experience at all. To me, it seems that roller derby is a sport for women who often very much would like to form close bonds with other women but, for various reasons, may not have as adults.

When I was growing up, I often goaded my friends into doing daring and foolish things. Most of my close girlfriends were not thrilled about jumping out of trees onto dirty, rocky slopes or riding double on a bike on a steep and windy patch of pavement or hitting each other with thistles. (But some of them were.) Equally, I wasn't thrilled about trying on makeup or going shopping or doing other things that are generally the domain of little girls. But we were still close.

In college, I was lucky enough to meet a girl who will always, always hold a precious piece of my heart. And we were certainly unlike most of the girls around us - "demolition derby" sledding, climbing things, rollerblading constantly, and later routinely tackling each other on the rugby field - instead of wholeheartedly embracing the more common college pastimes of tanning, dressing up to go to the gym, and whatever else it is college girls do. (I'm not putting those things down - it's just different interests.)

And since then, I've wanted so badly to meet other girls like me - not women who hate other women - but women who want to meet people with their interests who are not male. Roller derby is that place.

I'd say roller derby is a sport for women who love to push themselves and their friends to do things that are slightly reckless and who want to just be themselves in one aspect of their lives. Roller derby is a sport for women who want the freedom of acting in a way that is sometimes seen as unfeminine (hitting people, being sweaty, playing a serious sport as an adult) while sharing those experiences with other women who understand that need for freedom.

Roller derby is a sport for women who may dearly love their "more traditional" female friends but also sometimes need friendships with people who understand their reckless, intense, not-always-logical sides.

Let the pain be your guide

During my first minute of playing time during last Friday's expo bout against the Vette City Vixens, I took a bad fall. My knee pad slipped off, and I fell directly on my knee on the concrete. I didn't think anything serious had happened, but I also couldn't really get up on my own. The usual "oh no, there's an injury!" hush fell over the audience right when I was saying, "I'm fine. I'm okay!" Later, a couple people from the audience remarked that they heard me say that loud and clear and had to hold back giggles.

The paramedics gave me some ice and, at my prodding, said I could go back in the game if I felt okay in a few minutes. A few jams later, I realized my wrist was hurting pretty badly. The paramedics wrapped it for me and helped me put my wrist guard back on - I was going back in the game after half time! But, no... the knee swelled up and filled with fluid and the wrist swelled up and started aching. So, off to Urgent Care for some x-rays.

This is the point where those of you who really know me can applaud me for my restraint in not saying I was fine and going back in the game against all common sense. As for the rest of you, you can applaud my restraint a couple paragraphs from now.

While I was growing up, my family lived in Yellowstone National Park during the summers. My brother and I participated in a summer program for local kids. One year, we had flyfishing classes, and each kid got a certificate at the end of the class. I think Ross got "Biggest Fish" and "Most Fish." I got, and I quote, "This is to Certify that Briggette has completed the Mammoth Kids Summer Fly Fishing Program. In appreciation for her effort, she has been awarded the TRUE GRIT AWARD for continueing to fish despite painful and ghastly injuries sustained while traversing the treacherous Yallerstone Country." My most notable ghastly injury was when I impaled my shin on a stick while climbing a tree overhanging the water to free someone else's errant fly.

Similarly, at the end of my 9th grade track season, the coach presented each of us with a small object reminiscent of our performance. I got a half-full bottle of "No More Ouchies," a numbing antiseptic. That was the year I had growing problems with my knees and wasn't supposed to run if it hurt. If I told people it didn't hurt, that made it true, right?

My life's goal when I was younger was to run a marathon when I was 16. (My dad's a marathoner and Ironman. I don't just think up crazy stuff like that on my own.) So I started training during my junior year. Apparently when I was a baby, my bottom ribs didn't attach like they were supposed to and all the running (and a thousand crunches a day) made one of them start sticking out. A person with good sense probably would have stopped running. I wrapped Ace bandages around my torso and kept going. After the marathon, a piece of the rib had to be taken out.

And then two more marathons. Rugby (one concussion, minor sprains and bruises). Administrative assistant job (tendonitis). Roller derby (one concussion, minor sprains and bruises, back injury, damaged toenails).

So back to last Friday. My husband drove me to Urgent Care for knee and wrist x-rays; nothing is broken. I asked when I could start practicing again and the doctor said, "Let the pain be your guide." I could sense Jeff rolling his eyes, and I briefly thought, "Great, I can still play in Oklahoma next weekend!" The doctor ruled that out, but then she said again that I should let the pain be my guide and start practicing again when I felt better. But really, concrete numbers are the way to go - wait two weeks? Ice for 2 days? I can follow directions like that.

Let the pain be my guide? Please! If I waited until I felt 100%, I would never get to do anything! When have I ever done that? What I need is to somehow develop a stronger sense of self-preservation and a measure of the pain level at which normal people rest instead of pushing through. Any suggestions? Oh, wait, this is a derby audience. You've probably all received True Grit-style awards yourselves.

It's been 6 days since I practiced. You can applaud me for my restraint now.


PS - Here's a fun video. It's from DDG's B-team bout against Chattanooga last year. In the last few seconds, I call off the jam then get clocked in the head and get a concussion.

There's nothing wrong with hitting someone when her back is turned

"And there's nothing wrong with hitting someone when his back is turned." I heard that quote on The Simpsons once, and how true it is in roller derby!

Last week, scrimmaging during practice, Cakeface Killa hit me about a hundred times in the same spot every single time I looked away for a millisecond. It was great! When a girl hits you with all she's got because she knows you can take it, it just warms your heart.

I've been thinking a lot lately about my old job. I worked as an administrative assistant for an associate dean in the College of Liberal Arts at Auburn. It was a busy, stressful job, and the day-to-day work was largely autonomous. When I first started, my boss would give fairly specific instructions on how I should do the work. As the days and months and years went on, she would just say, "Do this," and just count on me to get it done.

When I first started working, the job was just another job, my boss just another boss. As I learned to take the hits, so to speak - the incessant emails, the crazily complicated scheduling and rescheduling, the event planning, the budget tracking, the inevitable complaints found in all of academia - it became something more. Because my boss trusted me so much, I respected and admired her immensely, much more than anyone else I've ever worked for or with.

When the Burn City Rollers were just beginning to scrimmage, all of us still shaky and skating in a scattered pack, our hits were tentative and uncertain. None of us had played roller derby before and most hadn't played any contact sports. We were very earnest, though, and ready to be a real, seasoned team. One night, after our first week or so of scrimmaging, Lucy Ferocious laid me out. I remember I was on the outside curve of the turn closest to the skating rink entrance. Suddenly, I was on the floor wondering if I was still breathing!

And then, magically, I respected and admired Lucy more than anyone on our whole team. She didn't hold back and she didn't apologize. Her hitting me with all she had told me that the invincibility and intensity I feel inside was, at least a little, showing through.

Now, with DDG, a bunch of girls have just started scrimmaging in the past few months. At first, it's hard to hit them hard - they're so sweet in real life and they're focusing so hard on staying in position on the track. But, as soon as I knock one of those girls down when she's not looking, I hope she knows that I'm saying, "I believe in you. You are an amazing skater and a formidable teammate."

And I hope someday I can find another job working for someone who lets me figure out problems on my own. There's just something about getting knocked down or finishing a difficult assignment that makes a person try harder, get stronger, be more determined.

Fear... and loathing

It's so much easier to be afraid.

Today I had a whole free day stretching out in front of me - hours and hours to do whatever I wanted. I wanted to go running. But then, I started thinking, "What if my back starts hurting again? What if my shins hurt? I haven't run in weeks - it would be better if I started out with a short walk. I probably shouldn't go - I've had this cough all week and it's already harder to breathe than normal. Also, it's rainy. That will make my lungs hurt even more." I wanted, more than anything, to put my running shoes on and go for a very short, 10-minute jog. But, but, but. It was so much easier to think of all the reasons it would be better to stay in the house, read a book, drink some coffee. My body would thank me later, right?

When we do timed laps at practice, I feel the same fear. It's not a specific fear, and it's not a rational fear. We'll be doing "as many laps as you can in 5 minutes," and 2 minutes into it, I'll start thinking, "Oooh, I'm feeling good. I should go faster." And then somehow, it turns to "I could go faster. But what if I feel like I can't breathe when we're done? What if I get a cramp in my side? What if I'm tired at the 3-minute mark and have to slow down?" It's so much easier to keep coasting along at the same speed.

I know this happens to other girls; I've heard people say, "I could master crossovers if I wasn't afraid of falling, I could do turnaround stops if I wasn't afraid of pulling a muscle (that one was me, too, a few months ago), I could hit harder if I didn't dwell on how much it might hurt." Et cetera.

It's so much easier to be afraid.

Stay in the house, skip practice if you're feeling a little tired, just put your gear on and put in a halfhearted effort. But then! Such loathing! The day flies by, practice is over and you're not as sweaty as you should be, you didn't give any decent hits in the scrimmage, and you go home feeling the same as when you left.

One thing I love about roller derby is how it gives you a chance every practice, every scrimmage, every bout to overcome that insidious, sneaky fear that tells you to just play it safe, only push yourself just to your limits but not beyond them, and that will be good enough. The only way I've found to overcome that fear is to let the worst happen. Fall doing those crossovers. Do super-slow turnaround stops until you're dizzy. Hit harder and secretly admire your shoulder bruises when you get home.

It's so much easier to be afraid, but it's so much more rewarding to go all-out and not loathe yourself for wasting opportunities to get better, stronger, faster... less afraid and more like the person you want to be.

And now, philosophizing done, I've got to go stretch my back, ice my shins, and chug some cough syrup.