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?
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Thursday, April 15, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, April 5, 2010
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?
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?
Friday, April 2, 2010
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:
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.
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."
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.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, March 15, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
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.
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.
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