Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Practice Makes Progress

Practice totally rawked last night.  Off da hook.  Or chain.  Or whatev young whippersnappers say these days.  In my day we would have said, "Practice was SOOOO RAD.  Tubular.  Awesome.  To the max, dude." 

I think 99% of us were in agreement about this.  New girls, new coach, new merchandise, new news!!!!  Sorry can't share details yet, but I will as soon as I get security clearance.  Just keep your fall calendar open until I can blurt without fear.

Last night was a workout fer shur, but it was also a blazing inferno in the rink.  I was dripping with sweat to the point that sweat literally dripped off the end of my ponytail.  I was soaked to the skin.  I'm not generally much of a sweat-er.  I'm usually that girl who glistens.  But, I sweated my butt off last night (wouldn't it be awesome if it really worked that way?  "Excuse me, I need to wipe my butt off the floor for you so you don't slip."). 

I'm actually starting to like jumps.  I'm still not getting more than a couple of inches off the ground, but I'm getting more clearance than I used to.  And it's not scaring me anymore.  I just do it.  I didn't even teeter on my landings last night.

Two games of Queen of the Track were played; in one we skated in the regular direction and the other in the opposite direction.  No, I didn't win last night, but I hung in there for a long time both rounds.  I used to be one of the first to get knocked out.  I even voluntarily hit Ella Vader, which is really saying something since she wins pretty much every. single. time. we play.  She was kind to my little self and didn't hit back; thanks for not sending me to the ER!  Can I say that hitting Ella Vader is like smacking into a concrete wall at top speed?  You know it won't be pretty, but sometimes you just can't stop yourself in time. I didn't fall or trip or trip her (I also didn't move her an inch, but you gotta start somewhere).

Plus, I got an ultra sweet compliment about my endurance.  I don't feel like I have improved that much in that area, but it made my heart smile anyway.  Perhaps I can improve my twenty lap time this Wednesday.  I'll be sure to let you know.  Our trainers are fantastically encouraging.  Props, props, and more props to these wonderful people.

When I was in college, I cut this very add out of a magazine and hung it on my dorm room door and later on a bulletin board in my room in my apartment; this ad was part of a Nike campaign aimed at women.  Regardless of how you feel about Nike, I think most women can relate to these words. I have saved it all these years because it nicely sums up the way I feel about being categorized by my size or shape or age.



Word.


Statistic do lie.  I'm not a 36-24-36 (and chances are I never will be and I have been extremely honest about my measurements on my "Taking It Off" page ). 

I am more than inches, an age, and a list of numbers.  AM trying to be the best person I can and along the way I am simply loving me some roller derby. After nearly forty years of walking, sometimes I still can't walk up the stairs without tripping, but I am slowly gaining new skills and improving with each roller derby practice. I may not be a rawk stah skay-tah, but I am proud of myself and my teammates and my league.  I'm amazed at how far we have come since February.  I'm certainly nowhere close to perfect and never will be, but it's a start.  A fine start.  Who needs statistics if I have heart.  I would always rather be defined by my heart and by the way I love and treat people.  Let me be measured by my progress.

... And possibly my attendance record.  Showing up always counts for something.


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