The Burnout Beast?

I read a lot of derby sites. Unsurprisingly, it becomes an obsession once you start the sport: workout blogs, commentary blogs, strategy blogs, drillbook blogs. Oh, and let's not forget mailing lists and social networking sites. People involved in derby have a unique passion for the sport such that everyone who can write a lick seems to write often.

I don't mind that. Roller derby has been one of the overriding passions in my life for going-on three years now. It takes my mind off my day-to-day stresses, gives me a reason to be physically fit, and lets me be around people I dearly love. Not much to complain about, right?

But lately, burnout seems to have been a popular topic on a lot of discussion lists, in particular. I guess it's not so surprising, given that most derby teams are done with their seasons now that WFTDA championships are over. We'll all be taking a break to regroup, train to be stronger, and get ready for the start of the next season. This is the time when burnout creeps in. You're exhausted after a long season, tired of the rigors of training, and probably still aching from injuries that you put off tending just to get through on more practice, one more bout.

I'm not going to pretend I haven't experienced burnout with derby. Strangely enough, though, derby burnout happened for me not because of the physical and mental rigors of the sport, but for what I would call The Wrong Reasons. The Drama Monster. As I've elaborated numerous times already, the demise of my former team wasn't a pretty one. That, more than anything else that's ever happened to me in this sport, made me want to quit. It wasn't worth it- shouldering the load one more day, one more week, until it would all blow over... I just couldn't do it anymore, and I knew that.

It took a month off, a month with absolutely no skating, before I could fully conceive of what derby meant to me. But the only way that worked was for me to experience derby without the constant pressure of being the glue that held the team together.

Right now, BCR is preparing for its winter break, which will last almost a month- from December 12 until January 1. The idea of not having structured team practices for that long comes as something of a culture shock, and not one that I'm really excited about. I'm still working on a lot of physical issues to get up to speed with BCR, and I want to keep going at it, all guns blazing. I want to keep learning from them, to keep learning where I fit on their team, and I hate that I'll have all this downtime. Not skating, as many of my fellow BnB's have discovered, leaves a big hole where you feel like derby ought to be.

When people talk about burnout, I can't say that I don't identify. I guess what I can say is that I identify in a different way. I enjoy the physical pressure. Training is a crucible in which I forge a better skater. I like the way my muscles feel when they burn, because I know they're building. I love ending a workout with legs that feel like spaghetti noodles. I love the challenge of pushing through a drill that I couldn't finish the last time I tried it. I love feeling like I'm making progress, and I even love feeling like every inch of that progress is an inch I have to claw for. For me, like not much else in my life, derby is worth it. I don't care what sacrifices I have to make, or how may times I have to keep trying harder when I screw up.

This physical burnout, it's not much to me. Maybe it's just because BnB's season got cut short, and I was spared the typical March to November grind. But I'll take the physical work. I'll take the mental work, too. Keeping my body and my head in the game is a pleasure, a joy that I appreciate all the more for knowing that my two derby wives can't do those things right now. The emotional stuff? Now that was burnout. Now that I've discovered that derby doesn't have to include all that, I feel like a burden that I didn't choose has been lifted from me. Now, the burdens that I do choose can take precedence.