Losing It

It's bout season.

There's not much room to think about anything but when the next one's happening. Learning from the mistakes you made the last time you skated. Fixing your screwups. Learning new strategies.

This is the payoff. I've been with BCR through the entirety of an off season now, and now it's time to take all that hard work onto the floor. I'm proud of my team. We've worked hard, and we've trained well. I'm eager to see what happens when we put it all together and play other teams.

I've been extremely focused on the upcoming season. It's part of who I am to be driven. To want to do whatever I do very well. Joining a team like BCR, that's a tall order. It's taken all of my energy to train through this off season, and I like that. I want to be someone the team can rely on to handle her business on the track. I want to be an asset, have trained very hard to be an asset.

I found out today that in April, the whole BnB team is getting deleted from the international roller derby name roster at Two Evils. A couple of my former teammates (two of my three derby wives, in fact), messaged me about it today. They were really upset - it's like losing a part of yourself. It's a reminder that the team we worked so hard for is dead. There is no three second recovery for what our team went through.

Flash back to eight months ago, July. The inevitable explosion hasn't happened at BnB yet, but tensions are rising. We start a typical practice with another annoying skill drill: side step down one line, sprint to the other side of the rink. Sidestep down another line, sprint back. We do this for ten minutes at least - it seems like forever. I break a bit of a sweat, but mostly I'm just bored.

Next up, after we stretch, it's time for an endurance drill. It's just your typical 25 in 5; it's ubiquitous in derby. Sometimes it feels like we aim all our endurance training towards passing this one test.

The rink is hot. The air conditioning at Looney's never did work well in the summer, and it feels almost as humid in here as it is outside. Like you're swimming through the air. There's a nervous twitch in my stomach as I take the line. This drill always makes me nervous, almost sick. I know it's the one thing that would keep me from playing. Everything else on that test, I can do, everything. But the 25 in 5 is always a crapshoot.

The head ref (my husband) blows the whistle. We're off. I focus in on trying to pace myself and I agonize at how tired my body feels after only five laps. By fifteen, I'm slowing down. By twenty, my shins and calves are cramping so badly that my crossovers resemble limping. When I cross the line at 25 laps, my legs are noodles. I don't even have the leg strength to stop properly, so I drop to my knees, skid to a stop on the floor.

My heart is pounding. Sweat is pouring off my body, and I feel so hot that I'm having trouble not passing out. I'm panting, my breath sounding like loud, embarrassing gasps.

4:54. I wasn't the last to finish. I made it with six seconds to spare.

That, at BnB, was my accomplishment. Make it through the 25 in 5. Yes, I told myself, you may be a total wreck afterwards, but you passed the damn test. And that's what matters.

At least that's what I told myself. But when we took on PRRD a few weeks later, it seemed like a lot more than that mattered. I was one of the lynchpin players of the team, one of the only people who understood and cared about playing pivot. The team captain. I had to be in for a lot of jams. My team was depending on me.

I was exhausted before the first half was over. My body felt so bad I could hardly focus on putting one skate in front of the other, much less getting strategy together for my team. On top of that, my derby wife got injured and was in the middle of Ridiculously Bad Real Life Shit. To say I was unfocused is a massive understatement, and I felt very responsible for our loss. I was absolutely baffled when my team gave me the Most Valuable Skater award for that bout. It made no sense to me - it still doesn't, no matter how much I appreciate their love.

Derby is as intensely psychological as it is physical; it's a funny sport that way. I've said that over and over again because it's something that is always emphasized in my sport. I can't really speak for other team sports, but I've gotten to know that part of derby intimately. If your faith in yourself wavers, your opponents will sniff it out like a shark scenting blood. Believe firmly enough that you can't do something, and your belief will make it true.

It's not just your own fear, though. It's never just about you in roller derby. Other people's fears can affect your team's performance. I've watched fearful jammers linger in the back of the pack, praying for heaven to open up and give them a way through the pack that doesn't involve being in the sights of the other team's blockers. I've watched fearful blockers miss crucial blocks because they spent so much time calculating whether or not it was the right time to make a move. Hell, I've been that blocker.

What I didn't realize until far after BnB was over was that someone else's fear could affect training the way it did. I was so loyal to my derby wife. Endlessly so, in spite of how she may feel about that now; she wasn't in my head. She didn't understand how I rationalized everything she did because I was her derby wife. I was supposed to understand her.

I think I understand her better now, after I haven't talked to her for almost six months, than I ever did during my first season as a skater.

I think that as a coach, she was scared. We were alike in the fact that, however much we try to hide it, we thrive off the approval of others. If she admitted that she had never coached anything before, much less a sport as complicated as derby, if she admitted that she'd never been an athlete, didn't understand the way that athletes' bodies work, she would have risked that approval. How would the team have reacted to know that the person who had taught them how to skate, who had initiated them into this wonderful sisterhood, hardly had any knowledge about how to coach the sport beyond the basics?

We never got to find that out. But I think that we spent a season crippled by that fear. One of our referees was a former speed skater with wonderful ideas about how to incorporate off skates and endurance training, but my derby wife claimed that she had asked him to help her many times and that he wouldn't do it. I don't know whether that was true or not, and it doesn't matter - but I do know that she spent a lot of time running down his knowledge. What if he had been more right than she was about skating and how to do it?

Derby is a very open community. There's knowledge out there for the taking if you want it, and even a mailing list about how to coach a derby team with a massive archive that covers just about every issue you might wonder about. I begged her to join the mailing list, but she never would. What if she had discovered she had actually been teaching us the wrong thing all these months? What if she had discovered she had actually been focusing us as a team in the wrong direction?

When I started skating for BCR on October 5 of last year, I was a total wreck. I would have loved to blame my bad skating on the fact that I'd been off skates for a month, but I knew that if I were honest, there were just a lot of things I'd never trained for. My endurance wasn't the result of not skating, it was the result of never having done any endurance training, not in the entire year I skated in Montgomery. My lack of knowledge about strategy, my lack of ability in certain skills, the ineffectiveness of my blocks - it was largely a result of never having been trained in certain fundamentals.

It was, truthfully, largely, a result of having a coach who was terrified to admit that she didn't know it all.

I have my current coaches to thank for the skater that I am now. They have helped me unlearn bad habits by filling in the fundamentals I didn't know. Under their guidance, I've pushed myself harder than I knew possible. This team has made me want to be a better skater; it has made me realize that the best thing I can do for my team is to perform at the top of my ability. When I skated for BnB, I sacrificed a lot of my own training time to help newer skaters. I don't regret doing that, because every woman who wants the experience should know what it is to love derby. But I do regret not giving the team my best effort, not even knowing what my best effort felt like.

The last time I skated a 25 in 5, it was directly after skating 40 in 8 (I clocked in at 7:30, my best time on the exercise yet). I finished my 25 in 5 at 4:40, a better time than I made last July at BnB when the 25 in 5 was the only time trial we did. After my 25 in 5, I proceeded to complete a 10 in 3 with a fall at the end of each lap (2:28), and a 5 in 1 (:54).

This wouldn't have been possible at BnB. We were never pushed this hard at BnB. We were never shown the possibility of our potential. We did the minimum requirements of derby, and not much beyond it.

And that's why we lost every game we played last season. Badly.

I don't want to blame it all on her, our coach, my former derby wife. I am always responsible for my own performance, and I won't deny that that's a lesson I could have used last season. But derby is all about learning- about the sport, your team, yourself. I'm willing to admit that I was a poor player last season because I just didn't know.

I have to wonder what would have happened to the team if our coach had been willing to admit the same. Would we have been a better team? Would we have avoided the messy split that happened in late August?

It's impossible to say.

In a lot of ways, I'm thankful that it happened. I'm skating with a team that has never asked a damn thing about all the ridiculous drama that killed Belles. All that BCR has asked of me is my commitment. They pushed me beyond my former limits and forced me to ask myself how much I wanted to play this sport. That I'm rostered for a bout this weekend in Chattanooga is the answer.

The real tragedy in all this is that so many of my former teammates slipped between the cracks. That someone else's fear is keeping them from skating again. That someone else's fear kept them from ever knowing what this sport has the potential of being.

I would change all that, if I could. But short of erasing the past, I don't know the way to do it. It could be that this is another one of derby's sad stories - another instance where one personality soured countless others on a sport that is pure magic in its best form. I don't want it to be. But then, I can admit that some things are beyond my control.

ReForged

My first 'bout' this season was a mixed scrimmage with two other local teams - Auburn vs. Alabama. Auburn lost, and I have to admit, I had my suspicions that we would, looking at the relative inexperience on our team. It was what it was, however, and the experience provided, if nothing else, gave me a few things to think on.

I know I could have improved my performance. I hit my own teammates harder than I hit people I don't know. That's always been the case; some derby girls say that it's much easier for them to hit people that they don't know, but the opposite has always been true for me.

Apparently, I'm too damn polite.

And, thinking it over, it doesn't make a lot of sense. I learned last season that I am extremely Momma Bear protective when it comes to my own teammates. If I feel like they're in danger, I get mad - not just mad, furious. Strangely enough, I guess my mind never made the connection between that and hitting the other team on the track. Instead of just getting pissed off when their jammer gets through, maybe I should focus a little more on making sure that they can't touch my own jammer. Or that when they do, they pay for it.

The scrimmage pointed out to me that I needed to refocus, to concentrate on some things that have been slipping through the cracks. That's just one of them - switching from mostly concentrating on defending against their jammer to concentrating on defending mine.

The issue with how hard I hit... I admit, I don't understand. At practice, I feel like I'm a lot more fearless, like I hit harder and with more accuracy. I don't always (or maybe ever) transfer that practice Helley to bouts. And I can't figure out what the issue is. Maybe it's nerves, derby stage fright, but if that's the case, I haven't yet figured out how to get rid of them. If I could take all that adrenaline and channel it for good, then it wouldn't be a problem. But the first time I took the line Sunday, my knees were practically chattering together, and I'm not sure that distracted nervous energy ever totally went away.

I played mostly pivot on Sunday, and that's a position that I'm pretty used to being in. When I played for Belles 'n' Bombshells, NOBODY wanted that position. People aren't fond of it at BCR. But I loved it. I love derby strategy. I obsess over learning the newest ones, and figuring out how to bend the rules to your advantage. The beauty of a well-played strategy is thrilling to me; I know I'm not the only person on my team who feels that way, but the newer players especially are still in that stage where strategy is a little too much. There is So. Much. Going. On. in a derby bout that it's hard to even think about strategy when you first start.

I really felt like I sucked at it Sunday. I used to love playing pivot, and it was one of the only positions I really wanted to play. That was at least partially because I was being told I wasn't really good at anything else. But Sunday, I found myself wishing I was in the back of the pack playing Power so that I could be the first line of defense, so that I could see everything.

Last season, I never thought I could be good as Power. Admittedly, that wasn't just my own perception, but it was also being fed to me through my training. This season, I feel like I'd rather be at Power than anywhere else.

I'm having to re-grow as a Pivot, and that is something that's a little... uncomfortable. I admit it. But I know that I was chosen to play as a Pivot for a reason, and I'm honored that my coaches felt like I could handle the position. This season, I'll be playing as the first and last line of defense for my teammates.

More than anything else, Sunday solidified that the old Helley, BnB Helley, is dead. Each off season offers an opportunity for a skater to become someone else, and that's just what I've done. Harder, better, faster, stronger, to borrow a line from one of my favorite songs.

Now that I think about it, my mentality feels suited to both Power and Pivot, it's just a matter of taking the power that I know I have. I can handle the roles, and plainly, my coaches believed that I could. Now it's just time to remind myself of that as bout season starts, as we gear up for our first bout on the 19th.

So, for whatever that scrimmage was, no matter how much certain aspects of it frustrated me, both on a large level and a personal level, it did teach me some new things. Some very useful new things.

Making Yourself Better... for Who?

I'll tell you a secret about me: for most of my life, I have been hopelessly insecure. We're talking self-effacing to the point of neglecting my own needs because I don't think they're important. There's a million reasons for it, but the purpose of telling you is not so I can sit here and psychoanalyze myself.

When I started skating for the Belles, and especially after I became the Captain and primary pivot for the team, I had confidence that I could handle it for one reason and one reason only: because I almost always consider my own needs last, that makes me the consummate team player.

That was how I handled it during my first season as a skater. I devoted a lot more time to raising up the newer skaters to get them ready to bout than I did to improving my own skills. The team knew that I would teach them what I knew, and they knew that even if all they needed was a shoulder to cry on or someone to vent to, I'd be there for that too. I had a lot of teammates tell me that when it came to bout time, I was one of the most protective blockers we had, and that I was "the only one" helping them through the pack.

I guess that's just me; I value every one of my teammates to the point where I will do anything to protect them in the pack. Even as a pivot, I'll drop back to the back of the pack if nobody's helping the jammer. I'll try to run interference and sacrifice myself, taking blocks to keep that blocker from hitting my jammer.

Since I've transferred teams, that hasn't changed. One of my favorite things about roller derby is that it's this sisterhood, this family. BCR has that same ideal of team, and protecting your teammates, that I was scared I would never find after Belles went under. But this is roller derby; this is what we do.

I started skating with BCR (again) on October 5, 2010. Doing that, I quickly realized that I would be one of the weakest links. I was slow. My endurance was terrible. Things that my other teammates could do in their sleep, I didn't have the faintest clue about. That put me in a position I wasn't used to: how was I supposed to help people if I was at the bottom of the totem pole?

I learned an important lesson, and I learned it quickly: if you don't improve yourself, you're not any damn good at helping your team. How can I help a jammer get through the pack if I can't even keep up with the pack? How can I be aware of what's going on if I'm focusing on how much my muscles hurt, or trying to catch my breath?

I knew that I would have to get better as an athlete to play with my team. Why would you put someone on the roster if they can't keep up? For that reason, I've undertaken what I have; I've gone to more practices per week than I ever had with BnB. I've even started working out on my own when I'm not "required" to by a team practice.

This is a big deal for somebody who was never able to consider their own progress important on their last team. But it's made a big difference. My body is stronger, and more able to withstand what my team asks of it. My hits are better. My times on endurance exercises are improving. I don't run out of breath, and my leg muscles take a whole lot longer to turn into jello.

With that comes a whole new world of possibilities: if I pivot for BCR, I won't have to run the pack medium slow if I don't want to. If I want to chase a jammer down, I've got a lot better chance of getting her now. If I want to protect my jammer, I'm more stable, which means that I'm a more likely distraction or object of frustration for somebody who really wants to knock me down.

But it's been a revelation. I didn't get here by focusing on other people. I got here by working on me first. Without working on me, I wouldn't be of any use to my team, because I'd still be struggling.

I am by no means a perfect skater. But I've improved vastly in three months with BCR, way more than I thought possible. The best part is that it's a continual process. Now that my body is stronger, I can work on honing my instincts, understanding when to block without over-analyzing, understanding how to direct a team like this if I ever end up playing pivot again.

Maybe as important is the fact that, without even intending to, BCR has taught me something important about me, and about how I live my life. I've always thought it was selfless to put others before yourself. It is, but what I never wanted to realize is that it's kind of stupid to always put others before yourself. Doing that allowed me to develop bad mental habits; it allowed me to continue indulging in a mindset of total insecurity. It allowed me to continue devaluing myself to the point where I never worked on my own derby skills because I subconsciously didn't think I was worth it.

But I am. I haven't overcome the things I have in order to just fester at the bottom of the heap. I love this sport. I love my team. And the real sign that I love my team, the real selfless act, is the length that I will go to improve myself for BCR. The saying goes that you're only as strong as your weakest player. BCR has inspired me to eliminate my own weaknesses. Not just physical ones- mental ones too.

Speed can be improved. Endurance can be trained. New skills can be learned. What I think is truly priceless is the way that derby makes you into a better person. A better person for the benefit of others. We should all live our lives that way.

Derby Resolutions, 2011

I remember thinking in December of 2009 that I was in a vastly different place, derby-wise. I had just begun training as a skater with Belles 'n' Bombshells. I had just gotten a derby wife. My derby wife and I had spent New Year's Eve together, with our respective significant others. I was very happy. As I've noted, things changed very drastically in 2010, but when the year started, I was in a very good place. I was very comfortable with my derby life.

Right now, I think I'm happier - and wiser. Yes, I lost my first derby wife, which is something that I will always in some senses regret, no matter how badly I feel it turned out. However, a lot of people who came to mean a lot to me during the course of that year with BnB are still a part of my life. I love them just as much now as I did when I first met them - my two wonderful derby wives, Malice, Zelda, DT, Slim, Moth, Delirium, and my sweet little sisters Mystique and Reaver. We may not be skating together (except for Slim and I), but the happy memories aren't ever going to go away.

But I'm also in a much better place as an athlete. As I've mentioned over and over and over again, Burn City Rollers have shown me something entirely new from what I knew about playing derby. They've shown me a whole new level of hard work, dedication, determination, and athleticism. I love where I am, even if it might be a little lonelier than it was this time last year.

I was afraid, when BnB folded, that no matter where I went, no matter what team I skated for, I would never find another team that made me want to be as good as I could be. I was luckily wrong. I love my new old team. I want to be the best skater I can possibly be, and I can already tell that I am well on my way to breaking barriers that used to be impossible, unconscionable to even consider breaking when I was the Belles' captain.

That having been said, I wanted to share my Derby Resolutions with you. I've come up with three goals for this new year, three goals that I think will make me the best skater I can possibly be, and three goals that I hope will show my team just how much it means to me to have a place among such talented skaters.

They are:

1. Keep working on my endurance, no matter how much it hurts. I've discovered since BnB folded that my biggest problem when it came to bout time was endurance. I used to skate my 25 in 5 and struggle through it, hassling for breath and nearly puking at the end of it. That has changed drastically since I started skating with BCR. My speed has improved. My cardio endurance has shot through the roof. And my lactic acid tolerance has even improved to a point where I'm not finishing every time trial in total agony.

But I can still do better. BCR is one of the most athletic teams I've ever seen. And that challenges me. I know that I can be faster. That my endurance can improve. And that makes the pain worth it. The aching muscles, the sweat pouring out of ever pore... it's all worth it in the end. No matter the pain, I'm going to keep setting up challenging workout weeks, and keep sticking to my goals.

2. Learn to quit over-analyzing hits and just trust my instincts. I've said previously in this blog that during the BnB days, I was almost taught to be a passive hitter. Conserve your energy. Hit only when you know it will be effective. That led to me over-analyzing every single hit I thought about making, and ending up, overall, being a very passive blocker.

No more. Since starting with BCR, I've learned that if you have the right technique and the right training, hits don't have to sap all your energy. All you have to know is how to do it, and then trust your instinct to tell you when to go. This is probably the hardest goal on the list for me, because I'm very much more mental than I am instinctual. But I can learn. I know I'm a very sturdy skater, but I want to be one of the people who make other skaters wince when they know they're about to take a hit. I know I can do that, if I can only learn to trust myself, and to play more aggressively.

3. Pay more attention to what I eat, because the quality of fuel affects the quality of the performance. This is almost a no-brainer. I have done what I feel is a good job watching what I eat, and paying more attention to calories. But now I want to change the quality of the fuel- more efficient metabolism, and more healthy meals.

What are your derby resolutions for the year? How do you want to improve yourself for your team? Or for yourself?

Equipment Review: Wheels

I got my first pair of real derby skates in February 2009. They were a pair of Riedell R3's, the Tuner package. They included upgraded Radar Tuner wheels in any hardness you wanted. I chose the red ones, which are the second softest Tuners. At the time, I chose them as much for the color as I did for the grip, but since BCR skated on a concrete floor, it helped a lot to have wheels that were grippier than whatever was on those crappy Academy Cobras.

They have served me well. I have used them for well over a year at this point; nearly two, as a matter of fact. I've watched other people wear through their wheels in two months, and still, my Tuners kept on truckin'.

As the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. I was almost reluctant to get rid of the old Tuners, but as long as they've lasted, they're finally starting to lose their grip. On a floor like BCR's, that's a definite negative. Since I came back, I've struggled with maintaining speed and control on our track, which let me know one important thing: the Tuners had to go.

Right now, they're sitting in the middle of my office floor, divested of their bearings. My husband ordered me a pair of Atom Poisons for Christmas, and I tested them out at open skate last night. Before I went, I cleaned and oiled my bearings pretty meticulously so that I could try to get the best possible performance out of my new wheels.

I'm one of the taller rollergirls on our team, and also probably one of the beefier girls on our team, at least as far as leg muscles are concerned. I needed a wheel that I could really dig in with, one that wouldn't slip around the turns no matter how hard I pushed. For me to get as much power out of my stride as I can get, I needed a wheel I could depend on. My derby wife Vixen had gotten some Poisons not too long ago, and loved them. I was hoping for the same luck, but, given that she skates on a wood floor most of the time, I wasn't too hopeful for a repeat performance.

They were better than I expected. Much better. the wheels are soft to the touch; in that respect, they're really a lot like the way my Tuners felt when I first got them. They're supposed to be hybrid wheels, though, meaning that they grip well on slick floors, and give you plenty of maneuverability on sticky floors. That part I've yet to test.

On our slick concrete, I was able to fly like I never had before. I gave them a test run by going proverbial balls out for a few laps, and was shocked at how well they gripped. I was able to crouch down low in the corners, and instead of the wheels slipping, they held, and I could push hard to get the maximum stride.

I also tested them out for a 25 laps in 5 minutes. I easily made the time- that's nothing exactly new, as I do usually make the time. However, this time, it felt different. I wasn't flying when I tested out my speed, just kind of taking it at a pace in between medium and sprinting. The wheels held well, no matter how low I crouched or how hard I pushed. When I finished, the only thing that was hurting was the blister on the bottom of my foot. My legs weren't cramping, and I wasn't gasping for air. No doubt, a lot of this is because I've been working my ass off to improve my endurance since I started with BCR in October.

But a big part of it was that my equipment wasn't working against me. When I can push powerfully, I don't have to exhaust myself with tons of tiny strokes. Instead, I can fully extend all the way through my strides and get the maximum length out of the push before I have to take another one. That was a wonderful feeling.

I also tried some slicing last night, and the wheels grip so well that I was able to slice sharper and faster than I ever have before. I can't imagine what they will do on a grippier track. Stops are perfect: tomahawk, t-stop and plow stop were easy as pie. The wheels have great friction with the track, and they do just what I wanted them to do. Bellissimo!

As I said, I haven't tried these on a different track yet, but so far, I'm extremely satisfied. I hope to upgrade my bearings to Bones next, and see what that does for me. As my wise teammate Ziggy said last night, the skates don't make the rollergirl. But if your equipment is terrible, you won't skate to your potential, because it's mechanically impossible.

Atom Wheels, Test 1: 10/10

Rock and a Hard Place

As I've noted, I do a lot of reading on derby. Today, I was reading the lovely Bonnie D. Stroir's blog when I came across some of her typically wonderful advice. It was this: "Love derby on your own terms. Leave derby on your own terms." It really struck a chord.

I've seen a lot of people leave the sport in just the past two years. Many of the reasons are legitimate: a shattered ankle requiring years of rehabilitation; lack of time to commit to a team; lack of money to commit to a team. I've also seen some pretty stupid reasons, though- having a personal problem with someone and quitting the sport rather than working it out; misinterpreting a teammates' comment and leaving the team over it; not liking the way a league was run, but never making suggestions or offering to help change it for the better.

I want for myself what Bonnie describes. I do love derby on my own terms, and when I leave the sport, as I inevitably will, it will be because I know it's time for me to do so, whether because of my job, my body, or whatever it ends up being. I don't feel very sympathetic for people who leave the sport because of other people, because you should never let others choose for you what you should choose for yourself. You should never let others control your destiny. But what if you didn't have much of a choice?

I know that I've written a great deal already about the dissolution of my last league, but I feel that that single act has had far-reaching consequences. There are lessons that I'm still unpacking from it, the most important of which is that this sport is about the joy and the challenge of competition- anyone who makes it about more than that is unnecessarily and perhaps maliciously over-complicating it. I've felt guilty about very little, until I read that quote.

The whole messy story of Ember's ousting as President and Coach of the league isn't worth recounting in any detail. Its atmosphere was a toxic soup of negativity from all sides, mostly, if the truth is told, spurred by Ember's control of and responsibility for way too much of the league. She put herself under unnecessary stress because she believed none of us were capable of handling the burdens of running the league. And then she turned around and took that unnecessary stress out on us. She really felt like it was our fault. In some cases, maybe it was. But there were plenty of people willing to work hard to maintain the league, if she had only been willing to concede that their ideas had merit.

I don't know why she wanted so much control when it brought her such misery. She admitted time and again that she was stressed and miserable, unable to enjoy skating because so much else was hanging over her head. It seemed, though, to be part of Ember's idea of the President: the President of the league sacrifices untold hours of her day, every day, to keep things moving, to solve problems, and to take the burdens onto her own shoulders. That was one of the biggest disagreements she and I had after I took over as President- I believed then, and still firmly believe, that a league President should do her job, but that her job does not include giving up her entire life for derby to the point that it becomes distracting while she's on the job and starts pulling at the seams of her marriage.

Whatever the reason, her control was what tore the team apart. First, the three skaters who had the worst problems with her left. Once they left, I think we'd all hoped for a resolution. We'd all hoped that, eventually, we'd be able to mend fences and put the team back together. That was before the skaters who left decided to start a competing league. In the very small city of Montgomery, every single one of us left on BnB knew: there was no way two teams were going to work when one was barely breaking even, and fighting tooth and nail to bring in maybe 2 or 3 new skaters every few months.

I say every single one of us; Ember was the exception. I remember her telling us that if we really felt like the other team had such a recruiting and organizational advantage over us, it was because we were weak. Too weak to fight for the team that we loved. It was insulting at the time, and it still is, if only because, knowing the women on that team as I did and still do, none of us are weak. We all shoulder countless burdens in our real lives, and derby was supposed to be the release. The sanctuary. Once the sanctuary collapsed, what options did we have?

We knew what we were facing: the only way that the members who left the team would have come back to it was for us to kick Ember off the team. The problem was that, with Ember being responsible for so much on the team, and admittedly making herself into its central figure, too many people felt obligated. Ember was the person who had first taught them their falls, their hits, their t-stops and crossovers. How could they turn around and kick Ember off of the team that she started? How could they take away the joy of roller derby from the person who had brought them into it?

Those were the questions many people faced when we decided to take our league hiatus. Morale was at the lowest I'd ever seen it by that point. Fewer and fewer people were coming back to each practice, and people had actually started outright crying during drills because nobody could hold in the feeling that this was it. Every one of us but Ember felt like it was over. I often asked myself why she was blind to those feelings. Why didn't our feelings matter to her? Why couldn't she see what we were up against?

Nobody would kick her off the team. We knew that much. Nobody could even stomach asking for that vote. What we did know was that, during the meeting we voted on our hiatus, Ember walked out on our concerns. Before the meeting was even over, Ember told us she was leaving because it was pissing her off, and she walked out on us. That was a clear enough indicator of what she thought of us and our concerns. It was a visceral, gut-twisting slap in the face.

That, as much as any other reason, was why we ended up voting to close the league. With that choice, we said what nobody wanted to say, but there's little point in mincing words now. Facing a potential lawsuit, losing money on practice, with less than ten people on the team and little prospect of recruiting, if Ember wouldn't acknowledge the problems she had created, then our team would fold. In closing it ourselves, we voted no confidence in her- her ideas, her leadership, her stubborn denial. But we also knew the consequences: that she would no longer be able to skate.

I've had difficulty with that part of the moral choice. As I've said, and little of it bears repeating, my relationship with my derby wife was, at that point, beyond repair. We were little more than acquaintances, and she resented my leadership as much as she resented everything else about me. Through all the bad blood, all the terrible decisions that she made and then denied, I never wanted to take this away from her. I never wanted to do the equivalent of saying 'you can't ever play this sport in this state again.' But I did.

That's the bald truth of it, and it's what Bonnie's blog reminded me of. That, for all practical purposes, we had taken away Ember's chance to play roller derby. We took away her ability to leave derby on her own terms.

It's easy enough to say that it was karma, that Ember got the end result of two years' worth of bridge burning in the local area. She couldn't go back to her first team because of the way she'd left it, and because she had too much pride to admit that she'd treated them like shit too. Could she have been honest and forthright about that, I think things might have changed- or they might not have. BCR might have accepted the apology, but said it was too much of a risk to team stability to have her back. I don't know, and I can't speculate.

It was an easy choice for the rest of us to make; we all knew we had options. We could skate with either River Region or BCR, and we knew that with both teams, the doors were wide open for us. They weren't for Ember. We knew that too. The question I still have trouble answering is this: were we selfish? Or did we do what, in the end, was best for everyone? Did we force Ember's hand, or is this, in the end, how she's chosen to leave derby?

There aren't easy answers. The whole thing was unsettling, difficult, and depressing, and I certainly don't deny Ember her anger over not being able to skate again. That, more than probably anything else, is why she told me, the last time I talked to her, that I had "stabbed her in the back." That, in the end, is why she doesn't speak to me- because I'm the easy target. I was the one in charge when the league voted to close. In her mind, I could have stopped it, because in her mind, letting the team have a voice about its future was always a huge mistake, and she told me as much on one occasion. I couldn't run things that way. I couldn't continue to see my teammates suffer.

In the end, I chose to hurt one teammate rather than ten times that amount. But I was their captain, their advocate, their listening ear. I was their pivot, their protector, the person who always had their back. It was my job to take care of them. And I think I'm still having a hard time getting over the fact that the only options I had would have hurt someone, like it or not.

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.

Frustration Based Training

First, an injury update: I'm extremely annoyed by these damnable shin splints. Dear reader, if you've never had shin splints before, they are one of the most annoying painful injuries there is - sharp shooting pains up the front of your lower leg, or, in this case, up the inside of my lower leg. I was hoping that taking some time off would really help a good deal, and it has. The pain is, at least, not excruciating now. But it's definitely still there.

I've found myself beating my head up against very typical frustration. I get annoyed at my body very easily when it won't do what I want it to do. In this case, it won't let me do the hard training that I need to do to start getting ready for the next season. I had to skip Sunday's skate practice, which not only screws up my attendance for the month, but deprives me of an opportunity to skate, which is just... depressing, frankly. I didn't make any off-skates practices this week, and even though I tried, I would have been an idiot to try to force my shins through hard plyometrics on concrete floor.

I'm trying in the best ways I know how to distract myself from sitting here screeching in my head "WHY WON'T THEY JUST HEAL?!" I've alternately been very down in the dumps about it, and very motivated to train through it. In order to turn off the harpy that wants to just ignore the injury and keep pushing it until I get a stress fracture, I've forced myself to be super-organized about how I'm training while I'm not skating.

Cardio has been the most difficult part. The best way for me to get cardio is by skating, but I don't want to push that right now- what if I skate and make the shin splints worse? That will set me back. I can't run for the same reason- too high impact, even worse for the injury than skating. I can ride our communal bike, which is an acceptable substitute, I suppose. At least it's on wheels. But I've frankly not enjoyed it near as much as I enjoyed biking as a kid. My preferred method of cardio would be swimming, but I've been too down in the dumps to go sign up for a membership at the local pool. I suppose I need to get over that, since it's pretty much the perfect cardio substitute until my shins get better: low impact, something I love to do, and great exercise.

I've divided dry land training into three components, attempting for the life of me to use my obsessive Capricorn ordering skills to produce something productive out of something very frustrating, and frankly depressing.

1) PT/Shin Strengthening. Though, as noted, I took a break on Sunday, today, plus last Friday and Saturday, I began a program of shin strengthening meant to help with the weak ankle muscles that cause feet to pronate when you run (or skate). So far, exercises for my shins have consisted of special stretches designed to prepare the area (as many shin splints can be linked to inadequate stretching), plus walking on my toes and heels, plus toe raises in various permutations: leaning against the wall, as preparation to take a step, and toe raises that push the ankle outward and keep the ankle from pronating.

I'm still experiencing shin pain, but I can feel definite muscle resistance and burning (the good kind) when I do the exercises. I notice that when I try to flex my feet upwards, I experience a lot of inflexibility, and suspect this may be part of the problem with my running gait- maybe my skating stride too. I have no complaints about the program I've adopted to ease the injury and strengthen the area- after all, I haven't even been at it a week yet. I'm also taking Aleve regularly, and icing my shins (not as often as I should). In a week, I hope to update a bit more with some details as to how the program of treatment is working.

2) Core Training. If I were to describe my approach to this injury, it might be "Killing Myself with Core Training." However, considering how important core strength is for derby, I figure if I can't work on things like explosive power, agility, and skating endurance, I can amp up my core strength for when I'm able to return to skating. Again, I took a break on Sunday, but otherwise have been core training Friday, Saturday, and today. A brief list:

25 crunches x6 different types (straight, to each side, obliques on each side, and hip lifts); straight leg lifts; side leg lifts; Rover's revenge (both quick and isometric); step-downs; and different styles of leg lifts, like scissors, flutter kicks, hundreds and just straight leg lifts for anywhere from 30-45 seconds. I've also thrown in pushups, planks (basic and side) and supermans for good measure.

I've always known that my core strength wasn't as good as it needed to be, so in retrospect, it's not such a dumb idea to do this instead of exercises that always focus on my leg strength. My legs are pretty strong- but the core above them sometimes not so much.

I'd love to say I see results, but I'm not quite sure I do. My abs feel about like they usually do- that is, I can feel some strength and definition, but there's definitely a layer of padding over them. I've lost almost 10 pounds since starting to monitor my calories seriously, but it's hard to notice the difference sometimes, which is a bit discouraging. I don't know how to measure the results of core training, in any case- my guess is that it will best be measured by the difference when I actually skate and have to use my core to hold me in place, in which case I plan to exercise my core fairly relentlessly over this week, and if that gives me results when I'm back to skating, then I'll keep doing so. Crossing my fingers.

3) Resistance Training. I'll be the first to say that I've never been a weight trainer. I signed up for a boot camp when I was in derby with Belles 'n' Bombshells this summer (and ended up giving it up after one week, admittedly), which required weights, and I learned some things about it then- namely that resistance training wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, and that maybe I should give it a chance.

My resistance training so far (today is the second day of it) involves basically circuit training with 5 pound handweights. I'm starting off with small weights for a couple of reasons. First, as I mentioned, I'm a total amateur with weights. Second, because of injuries to my wrists from six years spinning flags in marching band, I've got cubital tunnel syndrome, which makes my wrists weak, and gives me a little difficulty gripping things. I don't want to start off my weight training too heavy and end up dropping something on my toe.

The list goes in a circuit like this: flat chest presses, flat chest flies, shoulder presses, lateral raises, front raises, single arm row, upright row, shrugs, hammer curls, concentration curls, kickbacks, squats and dumbbell lunges. Today, I'm planning on 30 secs. per exercise, and 3 reps through of the circuit.

Again, I don't know what the difference would be. When I first tried these exercises on Saturday, I could definitely tell that my body was unused to weight training, and that many of the muscle groups I was exercising were underdeveloped. I'm planning on continuing to weight train a few days every week, even when I get back to skating, just to keep those muscles developed. A stronger body means a stronger skater.

Overall, I'd love to say that all this exercise has made me feel awesome. In a lot of ways, it does; I'm pretty sure I've mentioned before how singularly AWFUL my discipline has been in the past when it comes to actually keeping a detailed workout plan, and sticking to the things I plan to do. The very idea of off-season endurance training, and improving enough to skate with this wonderful team next season has made that a piece of cake. In that way, I'm impressed with the results: I've been able to keep a dedication to getting fitter and monitoring how I treat my body like never before. And the mental results have been pleasing as well- admittedly, I feel good about myself when I exercise, and I feel good when I clock in under my calorie count for the day, and I feel good when I step on the scale and see that I've lost weight.

One thing I HAVE discovered is that the years of depression and sedentary moping haven't served me well. I can't believe I was able to get through ONE season of roller derby with this poor body conditioning, total lack of strength and endurance. That in itself, I think, speaks to my want to play this sport, and my determination. But although roller derby is deeply psychological, it's also deeply physical. The body WANTS to be well toned and kept to play a sport like this. When you know that the machinery won't fail you, then the philosophy behind that machine has less chance of doing so as well.

Setbacks, or AUUUUGH.

I've been researching, and recruiting the husband to research, this weird pain I've had on the inside of my legs since the first time I did off-skates practice a couple of weeks ago. I was banking on it being a muscle issue, something that I could easily fix with better stretching and/or better lacing and support in my shoes and skates.

It's something like that, after a manner of speaking. However, it's also more annoying than I could have imagined, and the description of my symptoms fits it to a T - posterior shin splints.

Collective groan, please.

I've had shin splints before. The reason I didn't suspect them again was because the first time I had them, I had the version that runs down the front of your legs, or anterior shin splints. They were pretty easy to recognize, because they were actually on the part of the leg that we normally think of as the shin... with the ones I have now, I was taken by surprise.

I was hoping that this couldn't possibly be what was going on, but reading the causes, I don't have a whole lot of room for doubt. One of the first was increasing your workout load suddenly rather than gradually. I first started feeling this pain after I went to my first off-skates practice. We did a lot of running, plyo and aerobics, all things that my body wasn't used to at the time, and now, as it turns out, changing your workout program too quickly can cause shin splints. Also included in the causes, low arches (which I have), too little stretching (which is almost always the case for me), and running on concrete or another unforgiving surface (the floor of the Coliseum is very definitely bare concrete).

Included in the symptoms? Pain on the inside of the lower leg- check. Pain that seems bad at the beginning of a workout, but relents after a warmup period- check. Pain that makes it difficult for you to straighten your muscles out and walk normally a few days after working out- check. What I was mistaking for delayed onset muscle soreness was most definitely shin splints.

The number one recommendation for fixing the problem is to stop physical activity and rest the injury. Thinking that what I had was DOMS, which you're supposed to work through, I've continued to do my typical workouts, and, of course, the symptoms haven't gone away. Continuing to exercise on shin splints can apparently produce stress fractures in the tibia, which scares me- not because it likely hurts, but because it will weaken some of the most important structures I have for skating.

What I'm basically going to have to do is change the way I train for a little while, until the injury can heal and I can work on strengthening the muscles and correcting the overpronation in my feet. I suppose, since it's Thanksgiving week coming up, that it's a good time to do so.

Sunday, I plan to attend our last skating practice until after the Thanksgiving break. Yesterday's off-skates was canceled due to a robotics competition up at the Coliseum that is supposedly going on all weekend. I presume that it will be canceled this evening as well.

Tonight, I'd planned to do some more aggressive plyometrics to work on agility, but until my shins are healed, I don't think high impact jumps are a good idea. This afternoon, I'm going to research core exercises and concentrate on low-impact, core strengthening exercises like crunches, leg lifts, lunges, and squats. For the next few days, I plan to work mostly on strength rather than endurance training, as well as taking the time to work on rehabilitation exercises for shin splints that focus on properly stretching out the muscles around the area, and correcting problems like overpronation of the foot by strengthening the muscles involved.

Not good news, especially not since I'd gotten so excited about training hard over the off season. But I suppose it was going to be hard to continue to do things like running and high-impact plyometrics over Thanksgiving week anyway. Better that I use this week for something.

In case you can't tell from the tone, I'm a little bit depressed over this setback. But I'm hoping that with research and planning, I'll be able to turn that around and do something useful while I'm not running and jumping and pounding the pavement.

Skate Your Booty (Off)

I crapped out last night on off-skates practice. Admittedly, it was partially laziness; I got home from a late day at work and was frankly exhausted. I know that I would have felt better if I'd suited up and gone to exercise, but I let my laziness speak for me.

However, it was partially also the muscle pain from Monday. I usually get REALLY bad DOMS (delayed onset muscle soreness), which I know that you're just supposed to work through as normal. My fear, though, was that if I went and brutalized my leg muscles again like I did on Monday, I'd be too sore to skate at practice tonight. It seems, so far, to be a fairly justified decision, since my legs feel a LOT better today.

It's a difficult balance for me, though - I've never been one of those people who just work out to work out. In the past, it's been an accomplishment for me to skate twice a week. It's a bit difficult to go from that into an aggressive, seven days a week training plan for the off-season, and I don't quite know how to motivate myself to keep it up. I have a feeling, though, that practice tonight (which I'm already hemming and hawing about) will be motivation enough to remember why I'm doing this.

****

I knew tonight was going to be brutal... I just had a feeling. Cho certainly didn't disappoint. Endurance and body work for two straight hours.

I don't feel like updating about every minute thing- there's still a shower to take, and a bit of a snack to be had before bed, before I have to drag my sore ass out of bed in the morning.

Improvements I noticed: Last week, we did something called "the gauntlet." It was as follows: 40 laps in 10 minutes; 25 in 5; 10 in 3 with a rockstar at the end of each lap; 5 in 1. The first time through, last week, I made all the times save the 25. During the 25, I sat out. My back had cramped up so bad from pushing the 40 that I couldn't handle 25 more. I made my times on the other two, presumably because I'd had the time to rest out.

This week, I decided I wasn't going to sit out no matter what, so I didn't. My times obviously weren't as good. Cho cut our goal down for the 40 laps to 8:00. I made 38 in that time. I was able to do 21 of the 25 in 5 minutes. I just barely made my 10 with 2:48, and barely skirted my 5 at :58. However, I consider it a huge improvement, since I actually made it through all of them without giving up on my body.

Things I'd like to be better: we did a drill called thighmaster intended to work up quad and core strength. It involves squats, which have always been pretty painful for me. I'd love to say I didn't cheat on them and not go as low as I could have, but I did. I've got to learn to go ahead and go through the pain because without the pain I can't do better. I'm particularly disappointed in how I skated during that drill. I'm also disappointed with how I behaved during our hitting drill. I still have a HUGE problem with lacking the aggression and initiative to just hit people. Again, it's a holdover from Belles 'n' Bombshells, where we were taught it was better to save your hits instead of use them, which, as I believe I've noted before, resulted mostly in passive skating, and worrying too much about whether it was the right time to hit someone and missing the opportunity entirely. I'm still letting this mindset rule the day. I know I'm a hard hitter, but I don't take the initiative to show that. And I hate that.

Things I'm puzzled about: the inside the leg pain I've been talking about lately. I think I'm beginning to narrow it down to either the way my shoes/skate boots fit when I'm exercising, or the pressure of my ankle brace. It tends to be worse on the right leg, which is where I wear my brace, but I do have the pain in both legs, which leads me to think I might need different foot support in my shoes. I'm going to also try lacing the shoes a little less tightly tomorrow to see if that makes a difference, as I was getting some pretty gnarly nerve pinches along the top of my foot tonight as well that eased up a bit when I unlaced the bottom set of laces in my boot.

Still some things to improve on, but this is a long off-season. Next week, we don't have any practice starting Sunday because of Thanksgiving, so I know it will be a test of willpower. But with my husband there to remind me why I'm training so hard, I don't think that'll be much of a problem.

American Jumping Bean

Today's butt-kicking is all about plyometrics. I'd never even heard this word until I started skating seriously, but in the opinion of many skaters (speed skaters especially), plyometrics is what can make the difference between a good skater and a great skater - a good skater practices only on skates, and a great skater trains off-skates with plyometrics to improve muscle strength, explosiveness, and agility.

Given that those are three things that I really feel I need as a skater, I can't ignore plyometrics. Besides, if speed skaters do it, there's no reason it wouldn't be good for roller derby skaters; in spite of the different natures of our sports, there's a good deal of crossover, at least as far as what we want out of our bodies. Both sports call for good cardio and muscle endurance and strength, good explosive power for sprinting past other skaters, good agility for slipping through the holes other skaters leave as they move around the track, and a strong stride that uses as few strokes as possible to go as far as possible.

That having been said, my plan for this week, as it has evolved, involves me working on some cardio endurance, muscle strength, and explosiveness training today.

Here's today's regimen:
WARMUP: 1 lap walk, 2 laps jog, 1 run, 1 cooldown.
Stretch.
Run Coliseum stairs - goal time, 20 minutes or less for a whole lap.
PLYOMETRICS:
-tuck jumps, 3x 10
-lunge jumps, 3x 16 (8 per leg)
-box jumps, 3x 12
-forward lunges, 3x 10
-backward lunges, 3x 10
-squats, 3x10
-wall sit, 2 min.
COOLDOWN: brisk walk, 2 laps.
Stretch.

In practice, it didn't go badly at all. I was decidedly not in an exercising mood today; it was gray, rainy, and on those types of days, I really prefer to just hang out around the house and relax. Oh, and it was also chilly outside. One of those typical Alabama November days that had me much more likely to enjoy curling up under a blanket and reading a book than working my butt off at the Coliseum.

To the Coliseum we went, a little bit later than originally planned. We started off with a three-lap warmup instead of five. It had been a few days since I'd exercised and, I admit, I crapped out because my shins and ankles were feeling grumpy pounding on that concrete floor. We stretched, then got ready for the real kicker- running all 40 sections of the Coliseum seating, up and down the stairs until we'd completed a whole lap.

We tried this for the first time about a week ago, and I was not impressed with my own results. I was easily winded, my legs felt like jello, and I had to stop a few times because I didn't feel like my legs could maintain the strength to go safely down the stairs. Tonight, I set the two of us a goal: Make the whole lap with no stops, in under 20:00.

That was a resounding success. Our ending time was 11:42. This kind of blew my mind, to be honest. Like I said, the first time I'd done it, my legs had felt positively awful. This time, I even paced myself carefully, starting out more moderately than I could have so I could have a burst of speed to finish at the end. I was out of breath at points, but that was the point, of course. I was frankly shocked that our time could be that much different (it took at least 20 minutes the first time we tried it). I guess I'd chalk it up to a bad day, or maybe just knowing that I had the pressure of a time limit; that tends to make a big difference for me when I'm trying to beat a clock.

After the out and out cardio, we switched to out and out plyometrics. It's a bit of a meaningless distinction to make, however, considering how out of breath I got doing the jumps. The lunge jumps I found easy, and could probably increase the reps to 20 or more. I didn't start feeling any tiredness until the third set. The other two, I could definitely sense some muscle jello going on- the farther up I tried to tuck my legs after more reps, the harder it was for me to do that. Sometimes I felt like I was barely getting off the ground. The only thing that I had an issue with was the landing; again, doing these tuck jumps on concrete was hurting the hell out of my ankles, and I think at points I was landing way too hard. That's something for me to work on, and perhaps research a bit. There were points where I was definitely getting more than muscle pain out of those exercises. Another alteration I want to make for our next set of plyo is the rest period in between exercises. We took brief rests in between each set (maybe about 30 seconds or so), but the rests between the different jumps were three minutes, and I think that was too much; for the next plyo set we do, I'm bumping the time down to two minutes.

We moved on to the lunges next, and I set the time between those down to one minute, because they were much less high impact. I also bumped up the reps - for the forward and backward lunges and squats, we did three sets of 20 rather than three sets of 10. The lunges were a bit challenging by the end, but I think, again, it's a case where we may want to increase the reps; maybe 30 per leg instead of 20. The squats I definitely felt, especially the lower I got. By the end of the sets of squats, my knees were shaking badly, but my quads were burning in that good kind of way. From there, we moved on to a 2 minute wall sit, which, by this point, was VERY challenging. I had to readjust my position a number of times and couldn't keep holding a 90 degree angle with my legs. My legs felt outright weak and wobbly after I finished it.

That, of course, was a perfect time to run a one-lap time trial around the top of the coliseum. We don't know exactly what the distance is, but we think each lap is about 1/4 of a mile. Both of us took off at a dead sprint. We both got about the same time, with a three second difference between. I actually finished the faster of the two of us at 1:14, which pleased me since my husband is usually the faster of the two when it comes to running.

One thing that was very strange about running that lap: I controlled my breathing pretty well for most of the lap, because I had noticed that I have a bad tendency to hold my breath when I'm doing cardio. For about halfway around the lap, I wasn't particularly winded. When I was on my third leg of four, I started to lose my breath a little bit, but that felt normal. Oddly enough, the last five sections of seats, my body started giving. It was like a switch snapped off- all of a sudden, my legs were rubbery, and I could hardly push without feeling like all my muscles were going to snap somehow. I finished slower than I wanted to (perhaps a pacing error on my part, after maintaining a relatively consistent pace for most of the lap). It was a very strange physical experience; mentally, I was still pushing myself, but my body gave up on me before I was ready for it to. I'm not sure what I could have done to push through those feelings at the end of that lap, and I was also dizzy when I sat down afterward.

Overall, though there were negatives and positives, it was an overall positive experience. I can tell that, despite what you might call rather low reps for the plyo, the exercises are working. Sitting down to get in the car, my legs almost buckled- the sign of a good workout, no doubt.

I followed up some advice about doing cardio and loaded up on antioxidants for dinner: spinach, garlic, beans, potatoes. Since then, I've taken a nice long shower, and I believe I'm going to put some heat on my ankle before I go to sleep tonight, just to see if I can relieve some of the soreness.

I've been taking melatonin to sleep most nights lately- don't think I'll need it tonight. I'm exhausted before 11:00, and I'm totally okay with that.

Tomorrow night, team off-skates practice back at the Coliseum. Expect a report from that no-doubt surprising ass-busting, with the bonus entertainment that I have no idea what I'm getting into!

Building a Better Zombie

Now that the last bout of the season is over for BCR, it's time to move into the off season. We'll get our holiday break somewhere around mid-December, but to be perfectly honest, I'm not all that interested in it!

When I read descriptions of off-season training, I felt some consternation, if not outright dread. Long hours of painful plyometrics, workouts where muscles turned to jello, and lots and lots of endurance training, running, weight-lifting... Well, it's just not as fun as skating, that's for sure.

Without a strong foundation, though, you can't BE the skater you want to be. I realize that, now that I'm training with a more experienced team, or, frankly, a team that is simply smart about training.

Bar none, Belles 'n' Bombshells rushed us into bout season. No, we didn't have our first "real" bout until June, but we played in MRV's black vs. white bout in April. Even from November, when I started with the team, to April, I wasn't prepared. Nor was I starting from zero like a lot of derby skaters are- I already knew the rules, and I already had all my basic skate skills. It was an issue of muscle strength and pure endurance, and it continued to be those issues throughout the season.

If nothing else, BnB proved a point through example: poorly structured practice time during the off-season will result in poor play and the increased risk of injury during bouting season. We engaged in strenuous activity before stretching, once we had passed our 25 in 5 time, we never revisited the exercise, and we continued to do exercises that were useless to us well into bout season, such as basic stepping drills to teach beginners crossovers. Practices were inconsistent and lacked physical challenge. By the time our season was done, we were practicing once a week on skates, and everything else was left up to the individual skater, with poor monitoring practices, and no system of punishment for skaters who did not main activity, nor system of reward for skaters who worked hard on their own.

On the track, this had its natural results. We were unorganized and had a difficult time playing as a team because we only skated together once a week and, as I noted, we were often doing exercises that weren't useful to us during those practices. It showed in more than just strategy, though- we almost never scrimmaged, so our hits were poor and easily telegraphed. More importantly, our endurance was terrible. We would go out, hang tough for a few jams, and then get exhausted by the end of the first half. In the second half, we wouldn't even be able to make a pass at staying up with the other team- they'd run away with the game easily.

It's time for all that to change. I've spent a season chasing endurance like it's some kind of elusive phantom. Maybe it is, but it can't run forever- especially if I train to catch it. Today I've been doing my research, finding out what it is that skaters need to build up the agility, speed and strength that it takes to keep fighting every jam, no matter if you're playing a single jam at a time, or six in a row. And I'm coming up with a plan.

Aggressive interval training, plyo, and on-skates endurance drills until I can't stand it anymore. I'm tired of giving up on myself, and I'm tired of not having the wherewithal to push through line drills and sprints.

Much like with losing weight, I'm setting myself goals for endurance training:
-Cut 40 lap time down to 8 minutes or less.
-Cut 25 lap time down to 4:30 or less.
-Break through the pack as a jammer. I still haven't done this yet as a BCR practice because their packs are so tight and fast, and I don't currently have the speed or the agility to sprint through holes when they open up.

My plan for this week is as follows:
1) Monday - one hour cross-training at Coliseum.
2) Tuesday - one hour off-skates team practice at Coliseum
3) Wednesday - two hour team practice on skates
4) Thursday - open skate endurance training
5) Friday - one hour cross-training at Coliseum
6) Sunday - two hour team practice on skates

And I'd like for this to be applicable to every week, mostly because I need to get into a habit of a) skating as often as I can every week, and b) exercising regularly, so that when it comes time for a break, I'll be used to exercising often, and I won't be tempted to slack off.

Usually, my problem is that I can't figure out things to do. Right now, I'm full of ideas about what I could do to improve my endurance, as well as my general fitness level, which is something that I feel good about.

I also feel good about making this week's plan public. See folks - it's all out here, and now I'm accountable. I'll post details as the week goes on, perhaps report a bit on whether I feel I'm improving, and the overall body effects I'm experiencing.

Here's to building a better zombie, one step at a time. Next season, the huffing, puffing Mary Helley of the past will be a distant memory.

Bittersweet Goodbyes

On October 5, 2010, nine of the ten remaining members of Belles 'n' Bombshells roller derby voted unanimously to close the league permanently after a one-month hiatus. We needed that hiatus to clear our heads, to discern whether there was anything about our league that was salvageable after the detonation of such long-held grudges, the collapse of our schedule, the lack of confidence that positive change could be enacted. When the smoke cleared, we were at peace with the idea that we were voting to permanently close something that had been an integral part of life for a year or more.

Our Articles of Dissolution have not yet been filed, and remain in my possession. Yes, I've been busy, and haven't had time to get them notarized. But there's hardly a time I wouldn't have been busy during a teaching semester, and if I'd really wanted to get it notarized, I could have done it by now. I think the real reason that a part of me held on to these papers because I needed time to say goodbye.

By way of a benediction and eulogy, I'd like to start this entry proper with a quote: "Some people come into our lives and leave footprints in our heart, and we are never the same."

Belles 'n' Bombshells was that- a group of men and women who have impacted me deeply. Through them, I have learned more about change, acceptance, passion, commitment, grit, fear, and heartbreak than I ever thought I could from just playing a sport. I learned that fear was the only thing that held me back from skating instead of reffing. I learned that knowing your teammates believe in and respect you is one of the things that will solidify commitment and grit. I have learned that acceptance breeds acceptance, and that if you approach the open-hearted with an open heart, there is no end to the depth of your love for these steadfast friends. I have learned that passion leads to victory, but that it also leads to heartbreak, and that this is a risk you take when you give your all.

I began skating with Belles 'n' Bombshells as an impressionable person begging for the acceptance I felt I had never been given by my previous team. Begging for the chance to show that I could be a good skater, a skater that the team needed to succeed. I got what I wanted in spades- and not just on the track. After the whole ordeal passed, I realized that the team's need for me was about more than just my skating ability. Long after girls who had started with me, or even after me, had surpassed my skill level, they looked to me for leadership, reassurance, and acceptance. That fired my passion for the team and the sport, my belief that we could make it through anything as a team, if we only did it together. My passion emerged from the heat press of a physically and emotionally difficult season and the heartache caused by the ending of it all as a hard-pressed diamond. It sits now at the center of my chest, firing me onward, speeding past my limits, driving me towards achievement and acceptance, fueled by white heat desire to be good at this sport that I love, to be valuable to this team I have recommitted to.

The people I have met are gems in the crown of friendship. In Zelda Fistgerald, I found an intelligent, witty, passionate woman who shared my love of the written word, a kindred spirit who I miss dearly since BnB ended. Roll-r-Reaver showed me a down-to-earth, practical spirit and off-kilter humor that made me smile and relax; with her, I felt a realness, knowing that she didn't sugarcoat her feelings, but nor did she judge situations based on unbalanced anger. In Izumi Mystique, I saw grit far beyond my own. Setback after setback, my second little sister (Reaver was the first) continued coming back to practice because she wanted this, in much the way I wanted it when I first started. Mad Malice and Double Tap were interesting sides of the same coin - related by blood, if not often in opinion, they each showed me (in different ways) passion for the sport, creativity, dedication, and fearlessness. To me, there was never a question of whether or not Malice and Double Tap were committed to the team, or a question of their plainspoken, open hearts. Invader Slim showed me her wit, humor and compassion, her dedication to thinking through a problem logically, instead of with her emotions, as some of us admittedly did. Those who left the team and formed a new one shouldn't be left out either- I was inspired too by their creativity, intelligence, and their ability to know when it was time to let go.

I feel like I can't leave my ex-derby wife out either. From the point that I started skating with BnB, Ember was a monolithic influence on me as a skater. It was hard to tell sometimes whether it was good or bad- and even when I was upset with her, I'd remember a happier time that would melt away anger and make me smile. Ember to me is an enigma- a wild fount of passion for the sport and dedication to her team coupled with a crushing desire for control over her own (and thus our) fate and an unpredictable temper that made it impossible for me to love her fully, no matter how much I wanted to. I saw a lot of myself in her, and I understood her mind, even if I didn't understand why it chose the modes of operation that it did. I feel like it wouldn't be honest to say that I was surprised that Ember eventually cut me out of her life. I knew she would- I knew when I became her derby wife that it wouldn't last. But regardless, I gave her all my loyalty until I simply could not do it and remain true to myself anymore. There were times when it broke my heart to think of losing Ember as a friend or as a derby wife, but I slowly came to understand that it was part of the inevitable flow of many of Ember's relationships, one of her patterns. I was a passing whim, and now that the whim has passed, the connection has died- not with a bang, but a whimper. Our mutual chapter, like many others in life, will have no well-written ending, but simply the ragged edge of an unfinished sentence.

I consider myself lucky to have found Vixen and Midnight, however. They say when you meet people, sometimes, you just know. When I met them, I knew. I remember wondering to myself, once, when I first started with BnB, if Midnight might be my derby wife. I remember loving Vixen's big heart and wide open laugh from the moment I first met her. When they became derby wives, I won't lie- I was a little saddened by it. But nonetheless, Midnight and Vixen were the two I remained closest to during my entire tenure with the Belles. I am proud to call them my derby wives, because our story is the other side of my story with Ember- friendships that are meant to be, that don't run achingly hot and cold like undecided early autumn in Alabama. Loyalty as solid as the rink under your feet and as dependable as a teammate's whip at just the right time. They are sweet, talented, vibrant big-hearted and protective. By way of an anecdote, when things with BnB went south, both Midnight AND Vixen told me that they had wanted to leave the team, but they hadn't because they didn't want to leave me by myself. I was never able to truly explain to them how much that meant to me, to know that my well-being was such a concern to them. I have never met people that fill my heart with the love of true friendship the way they do. It goes far beyond derby, and it always will.

These are the people that I have lost. Of all of them, Slim and I are the only ones who still skate together. For one reason or another, the rest haven't continued derby, or at least haven't immediately continued derby. I can see why they would be soured by the experience, especially knowing that many of us got rough treatment (not to mention a lot of uncharitable distrust from Montgomery's new league) based on behavior that wasn't our fault, or even our own. After being sucked into such a tornado of negativity, why would you want to keep skating?

I wish I could remind them. Every Wednesday and Sunday, I sink into the whir of wheels around a rink painted sickly blue. I listen to and join in on laughter that is free, easy, and silly- people having an unconstrained good time with their teammates. I absorb the words of teammates slash teachers when they tell me about my mistakes or teach me new skills or strategies. Above all, I skate. I skate, and I skate. And I run, and I jump, and I sweat. I push, harder than I did before. I want, more than I did before. I strive. I live it. I love it. This is where the addiction starts. Once, we all knew this needle to the vein feeling, the anticipation of the next time you would become a mechanical biped and strap eight wheels to your feet. I remember now the inexorable blurring of lines between my "real life" and derby, of coming to the point where Mary Helley is here more often than she's not.

I can't change the way things unfolded. I can't take away the bitterness that many of us felt (or still feel) about some of our sisters starting another team in Montgomery and destroying ours with it. I can't take away the emotional, stressful time that we spent between August 28th and October 5 dealing with the fallout of it all, and struggling to maintain a league that was clearly tanking.

What I can do is make sure that the last act of Belles 'n' Bombshells is one of good karma. Before we file our papers, we will be donating all of our remaining money to the Sunshine Center, a local women and children's shelter that does great work in the Montgomery community: a shelter, advocacy, education, prevention, even post-shelter support to make sure that women and children do not return to dangerous, abusive situations. We may not have been able to control the way things fell out after the schism that killed the league, but we can control where the money we consistently struggled with goes. And it goes back to what spawned us in the first place- the Montgomery community, so desperate for something as positive, uplifting, and exciting as a roller derby team. Now, I hope that we'll give back what the community gave to us: positivity, friendship, love.

I'm filing the papers this week. Those papers don't hurt me emotionally- but what I do regret is that the joy that is roller derby was taken away from so many people who needed and deserved the experience. I'd like to tell them that the experience is still out there, and that you only have to open yourself to it again, but many of these beautiful women may well feel that you can only intelligently put your hand into a fire once before you're just asking for whatever you get.

But I believe in this sport, and I believe in second chances. I believe in friendship, support, and teamwork. Like my zombie incarnation on the track, I will rise from certain destruction, and I will conquer my fears.

I'll end this eulogy with an Irish blessing, for the sisters I was never born with, the friends I didn't even know I was missing: "May the road rise to meet you. May the wind be forever at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face, and the rain fall softly on your fields. And until we meet again, may God hold you in the hollow of his hand." Love and health to you all.

Full Circle

When I started this sport in the fall of 2008, I entertained dreams of being a blocker and pivot, of being a hard hitter, a fast skater, a part of a cohesive, amazing team of tough and admirable women. Then, I got injured.

Everybody said we needed good kneepads from the start of the sport, but I figured I could wait it out. Not so much, as I found out from the grapefruit-sized bruises on my left knee and a sudden and very painful tingling sensation every time I tried to kneel. Couple that with terrible skates, rapidly weakening knees, and confidence that melted away every time I fell and needed ice for it, and I suddenly started to feel my dream of roller derby disappearing into the mist.

I won't say it was BCR's fault that I got so disillusioned with reffing, either. Yes, there was some tension between team and refs, and I think that's undeniable, but it's derby- it happens. It felt bigger in my head at the time because I was so unhappy having to watch the team and their skills pass me by. I wanted to be out there, but I felt like I wouldn't be welcomed because I was weak. I didn't feel like the team believed in me, but I think it's much more likely that I didn't believe in myself. Derby's psychological- if I felt that way, they could read it on me sure as the sun rises. And what do you do with a skater who's that uncertain of herself?

That's why I thought Belles 'n' Bombshells would be the smart answer. And when I walked in and found people who welcomed me with open arms, people who didn't snap at me when tempers got high during practice. I found people who saw that I already had some skating skill, and who were impressed. People who looked to me for advice, and asked me questions, people who helped me open myself up. I felt valued, important. And I finally began to believe again- if I start over with this team from the ground up, I told myself at the time, I'll finally get to live the dream, instead of constantly struggling to make up lost ground with BCR. Couple that with the amazing friends I made on the team (and still love today), and I was sold.

That was how I left my first team. No pomp, no circumstance, I just disappeared around Christmas and didn't come back to any more of their practices. I didn't regret that at the time, though I've since cleared the air.

The year since then has been an eye opener. A huge one. I improved by leaps and bounds as a skater through my first few months at it. I broke psychological boundaries that I had had since the first time I went to a derby practice. I was proud of myself. I was named captain of our team (not because of anything special skating-style wise- just that I knew the rules, having been a ref). I wasn't so sure about it myself until midway through the season when I realized the unexpected. Girls looked up to me. They believed in my leadership and respected me enough to vote me as MVP of a bout that I didn't play particularly well in.

I also gained a derby wife. I'd known her before- in fact, she'd left BCR to form BnB because of one reason or another (the waters are fairly murky there, and I don't feel like I'll ever get the full picture). I didn't know her very well when she'd skated for BCR because she was always injured or absent, but I sort of admired her from afar. She had the reckless courage, the fast speed, the smarts as a jammer, the same sort of rebellious who-gives-a-damn attitude that I wished I could have shown the team, because it was much closer to my real personality. I didn't know what I was getting into. I looked up to her immensely, starblind to the fact that there were obvious hints of what would happen later.

That one person was to become the source for some of the best and worst moments I had as BnB's captain (and later Vice President, and later President). This, of course, is my opinion on it, but I had her back constantly - when her (rather) abrasive personality pissed people off, I was there trying to find common ground and fix it. When she made a decision, I supported it- not blindly, but after a real attempt to understand her reasoning. I gave honest advice when she had problems, and, as Vice President, I helped her do everything she couldn't handle on her own because of one reason or another. I was the Matron of Honor in her wedding.

But even that wasn't enough. As I came to discover, when someone feels unconfident and unimportant (mind you, my own judgment is creeping in again here), they will often react very differently than I did towards BCR. And rather than drawing into herself (as I did), my derby wife lashed out at other people. It seemed like a new person was on her shitlist every week, and the best that I could do was avoid being that person if I could.

As people will, eventually, our team got tired of it. We fought more than we talked at meetings, and in text messages. My derby wife (who had a number of things on her back because no one else had wanted those responsibilities) began to jealously guard what power she had (again, opinion). I even began to feel like she was resentful towards me because the girls were more comfortable talking to me (I tend to be fairly even tempered) than risking pissing off my DW on one of her unpredictable days.

I tried to support it still, until things got to the breaking point. Short summary: trash talk on the track had girls feeling physically threatened and uncomfortable; skaters tired of the bad attitude and constant negativity; we skated three skaters short at a bout because of irreconcilable differences with those three skaters and the President; those three skaters eventually left and formed their own competing league in our small city. I pass no judgment on them for doing that as, had I been in the same situation, I probably would have quit to.

Life has a way of making you look at things you don't want to deal with, and this was one of those occasions. When the complaints about my derby wife started rolling in to me from all sides, I had to consider them carefully- especially given that close friends, people who were the opposite of overdramatic, were getting their feelings hurt, and dangerously close to leaving the team and the sport. I had to admit to them and myself that yes, my derby wife had also made me feel absolutely terrible sometimes, tearing down my self esteem seemingly only for the hell of it, or, more likely, because of a lack of confidence in herself. I don't know; perhaps I shouldn't psychoanalyze, but having dealt with an emotionally abusive parent kind of gives me an insight into this kind of behavior.

I won't go so far as to say what one girl did- that our then-President was a "cancer" on the league. I will go so far as to say that what happened next broke my heart and forever changed my perception of my derby wife. It was obvious that things were going downhill, and we needed to have new elections for our league quickly before things deteriorated any further. I offered to take over as president, and was elected so- and after that, everything between me and my derby wife changed. She all but stopped talking to me, and anything that I did get from her was passive-aggressive, nastily implying that we were trying to force her out of the league or that I had made a power grab.

That wasn't the worst part though- it went far beyond simple personal politics. The fact was, my derby wife had single-handedly allowed three skaters to walk off the team because of issues with her, hurt the feelings of FAR more skaters that had remained out of loyalty to the rest of the team, gotten our last THREE bouts canceled because of her inattention to important details (like making certain those bouts were scheduled in the first place before they were put on the schedule), plagiarized both our logo AND a bout poster... and through it all, refused to admit that she had done anything wrong. No apologies, no reparations, nothing but self-righteous, defiant anger. Anyone who said anything against her was "jumping on the bandwagon." No matter how sensibly they said it, my derby wife responded as though we'd cussed her out and run over her dog.

We voted to close our league on October 5. It was a long, messy emotional road for all of us to walk to, but we were at peace when we voted to do what we did. Or, I should say, those of us who showed up were at peace. My derby wife was the only remaining member of the league who chose not to attend that meeting, because, in her words, she "couldn't watch the league abandon what she'd worked for." Even until the end, she refused to acknowledge any wrongdoing, and showed a complete lack of respect for her teammates by making it abundantly clear that none of our opinions mattered- that, above all else, she would be right before she would be humble.

I wish I could say that ended it. I attended a BCR fresh meat night the very night after we shut down our league. I was nervous, worried about the reception, but found it fun, welcoming, difficult... and a welcome relief after an entire month of not skating. Throughout October, I continued to receive nasty, passive-aggressive texts and e-mails from my derby wife talking about how we had stabbed her in the back and abandoned her.

But I put it all on the track. She'd never believed in me, and for that reason, my performance plateaued. Because she never trusted me as captain, even though she'd picked me for the job, because she thought I was a shitty pivot, but had me play the position in every jam because she nor anyone else really wanted to, because she thought I had awful endurance and agility, but would never construct a practice based around anything but jammer skills (did I mention she was the coach too?)... for all those reasons, I went out to BCR's practices, and I skated like hell. I skated like I'd never known before.

It's been exhausting, it's been painful, and yes, I AM still behind. But the important part is that now I see: nobody's judging me for that. They're judging me for the fact that I'm interested in being here and being a part of the team, they're judging me for the fact that even if I'm finishing things slower than they do, I'm still finishing them, they're judging me for asking questions because I REALLY want to learn how to be better.

Almost a year to date after I left the Burn City Rollers last year, here I am again. To say that things have changed wildly in a year is a huge understatement. But I'll keep what I have now: I've still got my derby wife- in fact, I've got two, and both of them believe in me, which is something new. I'm a part of a cohesive, amazing team of tough and admirable women. I am a hard hitter, but not as hard as I could be. I am a stable skater, but not as agile or as fast as I could be. Now it's time to build, to reach that potential. For the first time in my two years of either reffing or skating in this sport, I have the full confidence that the framework for that is in place; it only remains to me to make what I will of myself.

Fear Factors

Anybody who was younger in the 90's or so probably remembers those No Fear t-shirts they started marketing. It seems like there must have been one for every sport- football, soccer, baseball, basketball... the list goes on. Seems to me, though, that they ought to have marketed one for roller derby. I've heard derby compared to rugby on wheels, but there's not really any other sport that I know of where your body is the equivalent of both a ball and a weapon. In no other sport that I know of does the difference between a good score and a bad score consist of literally, physically beating your opponents out of the way.

Yet, if that old No Fear slogan applies to all these other sports, it surely applies doubly to derby. I've heard people mention how psychological derby is, but I didn't believe it until I experienced it for myself.

A good example: Jackson, MS. There were two blockers on the other team that I couldn't seem to get past. BIG blockers. They hit hard, and when they tried to push me out of the way for their jammer, I had no choice but to go. Every time I saw them in the pack, I got distracted watching her instead of watching my jammer. What if she hits me and I go down again? What if she starts pushing me? I was so nervous that I let those girls affect my performance- but further, it was like they smelled it on me. Every time they were in, they'd come for me, like they knew I was apprehensive about having to skate next to them.

Kind of like last weekend. We played our first real bout in Panama City this weekend, and towards the end, it got rough. Not rough as in 'a hard-fought derby bout,' but rough as in I was seriously concerned about whether or not we were going to make it through the bout without a fistfight breaking out. It felt like the officials had lost control of the bout, but, worst of all, like they weren't concerned about doing anything to bring it back under control.

I was mad. I let that anger take over. Girls started using their hands, pushing and shoving. At one point, I got pushed down on the track, and I won't lie- I lost my cool completely. I reamed that girl a new one in the middle of a jam. And what did she do?

When I caught up with the pack, she went after me again. Because I was angry, and that anger made me unfocused. But what was behind my anger? Fear. Fear of how illegal play was going to affect my team, my own personal health. She read it clear as day, and she used it to her advantage.

Sometimes it's not about playing legal. This sport is rough, and the people who play it are a special breed of women. Headstrong, aggressive, competitive women who oftentimes lose their tempers when things aren't going ideally. Roller derby is very much a sport where the phrase "shit happens" applies more than most.

The issue is how much you let the fear affect you. Skate in fear of falling, in fear of injury, in fear of failure, in fear of punishment, and your performance will suffer. It doesn't matter if you're nervous about whether your knee pad will protect you or whether you're going to get pushups for not playing hard enough. When you let fear become your motivator, it's all the same. And it adds up to nothing more than weakness. Weak rollergirls cannot survive competition- the equivalent of being in a pool with sharks who smell blood.

There's no room to fear anything in this sport. Derby teaches you to be in the now- to block, to jam, to pivot for the moment and worry about the next jam when it's happening. It doesn't matter whether or not the girl who has knocked you down seven times in one bout is in the next jam or not, not when your jammer needs you to make a hole for her to get through right now.

Roller derby is all about knowing your limits, then carefully constructing a bomb and blowing them to bits. There's no room for "I can't," or "what if."

The bottom line comes down to this: let them smell your fear, and you're road kill. Destroy your fear, and make them fear you.