Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Week Two Training

Ohhhhhh.....THAT'S why a lot of the girls wear bike shorts.


It only hurts when I sit down.


I have been alternating between those two lines for this post title all morning.

I'm whizzing around the track, practicing my cross-overs and the push/pull dynamic involved in them. I am picking up speed, and really enjoying the long, easeful glides that are the product of working this way. My feet are barely leaving the floor. I am squatting deep in my monkey, feeling my back open up and lengthen the more I release my neck and soften into all my leg joints. I'm breathing fully and freely, letting my arms counterbalance and swing opposite my legs as I cross over.  I'm going fast, weaving in and out of some skaters and passing. I've found that delicious wind again, on my face and deep in my soul.

Then I cut one corner way too sharp and suddenly I am flying through the air in what appears to be a seated position, legs way out straight in front of me and my arms sort of cocked at right angles in front of my torso, still in a pretty good "derby stance" as we have been working on all practice. It's all happening in slow motion, and I am literally laughing at myself and how ridiculous I must look and will inevitably look when I finally hit the ground. I actually had the space and air time in this brief instant to compliment myself for my "good derby stance" arms, look around and see other people passing me, the coaches in the middle of the rink and skaters on the opposite side, the laces on my skates, and think about how Alan will laugh when I describe this to him. I imagine this is how I'd look if I had to use the ejector seat on an airplane, like they always look in the cartoons when they are flying through the air waiting for the parachute to pop open.  Or perhaps I haven't really been in the air for the 15 minutes it seems, maybe thought is just that fast, that I could clearly and very specifically ponder all these things in the space of an instant. Then I'm marveling at how speedy thought is and finally I hit the ground and thud forward about 5 times (not exaggerating) on my butt, accompanied by what can only be described as a burning screech of skin on sticky rink floor. That's where the bike shorts come in  folks. Preferably padded.

As I get up and yell out to the coaches that I am fine, curse my stupidity for not considering that I might need a layer between my bare legs and the floor when I dressed tonight, push off my toe stop and get going I can tell you friends that my tush is burning, I have floor burn on both sides of the backs of my thighs.  For a moment I actually wonder if it is possible to literally tear your fanny apart.  My tailbone is throbbing and the one inch blisters on the insides of both my ankles are bleeding into my socks, throbbing and no doubt filling my skates with blood that will trail along on the floor behind me as I skate my final lap and then probably collapse in a heap from blood loss. (total dramatic exaggeration, but you guys know I live to be a drama queen...)

Then it occurs to me that I really don't mind falling at all. The bruises and floor burn, sure they are inconveniences. But what happens inside me each time I get up is extraordinary.  Those experiences are far more empowering and tell me so much more about myself than skating fast and the enjoyment I take in that. The skating fast is the ride, The falling down, getting back up and pushing off again, that's the real lesson here.  To move around the rink with no fear, no second guesses and no limitations is amazing. But getting up from a fall is amazing-ER..  Sometimes in my safe little existence here I forget just how tough I am, and I am actually grateful to those falls to remind me of who I am. If I skated around that rink or my life for that matter never stumbling I would have a very very boring life. Last night after I got home, sat on a soft surface and drank an ice cold beer I asked myself  "Is it really worth it? I'm 40 years old, not living in the same body I had in my twenties when I was dancing, have the wear and tear of 2 pregnancies and caring for my two small kids on me?? Why am I doing this to myself???"  And the answer came to me:

If I live my whole life having never done this I would be deeply disappointed.

That wind, the song in my heart when I am gliding around as a total, integrated and efficiently working unit is beyond words, like a mediation. It reminds me of one of the boy's bedtime songs, "The Wind" by Cat Stevens......

"I listen to my words but they fall far below. I let my music take me where my heart wants to go.."








Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Week One Training

Hi, I'm Kate and I am addicted to skating very, very fast.

When the coach said we should aim for skating 25 laps around the track in 5 minutes I almost spit my mouthguard out. What??

I'm whizzing around the track at a pace I would not have thought possible for me. Moving out to the edges on the straight-away and to the inside corners on the turns. Crossing over, leaning into the turns, arms gently swinging and opposing my legs as they cross. To those who study Alexander Technique I am working my monkey like mad, hingeing forward at my hips and bending in all 6 of my leg joints, keeping them available to adapt quickly if need be. The more I soften my jaw and neck and breathe into my back the faster I go, which is against my initial instinct because like I said, this pace is much quicker than I had ever considered possible and in some small part of my thinking I am reminded that I could fall at any moment if someone dodges in front of me, bumps me or if I shift my balance in a way that is not mechanically advantageous to this activity.

Whatever. I put that fear aside, throw it out the window and fully give myself over to this experience.

Bliss. I am free and grinning wildly, laughing in my heart.  I'm weaving in and out of the other skaters, enjoying that breeze on my face and the sound of my breath and skates on the floor. I realize I'm moving very quickly, but it's also like slow motion.  I feel an extraordinary sense of timelessness, like all my decisions to shift or weave or cross over are all happening in slow motion and that I have plenty of room to think. Heaven. Exquisite.

I went 27 laps in 5 minutes!!!!! Is it next Tuesday yet???

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Waiting for My First Practice

I have wanted to skate Derby for about 20 years. As long as I have known it existed. The athleticism, teamwork and strategy has always fascinated me. And the names. I have dreamt of and revised my own Derby name for years.

I love skating. I have loved it since my first pair of strap on metal skates, lashed to the bottoms of my red Bruce Jenner sneakers, skating shakily around my driveway with my Fonzie shirt on, in about Kindergarten. The feel of the wind in my face and hair and the balance necessary to cross over and skate backwards or shoot the duck was addictive even then. I would go round and round in circles for hours, dreaming I was Dorothy Hammel.

Then came my first actual pair of skates. Ahhhh. I remember taking them out of the box. The smell. The feel of the white leather, the black heel and look of the brand new toe stop. The argyle laces. The glittery pink laces. Sigh. And then the pride I took in polishing them up, admiring all the scuffs in the leather and worn toe stops. Heaven. I wore them out, then the next few pairs. I spent most of my summers going round my driveway and the street, thinking I was in the ice capades. And the better part of my later gradeschool and early high school going to the rink, just waiting for the speed skate or backwards skate to be called.

When I heard about the Derby league here I was pregnant with my daughter and vowed I would try out after she was born. A few months ago I started going to the rink on Friday or Saturday nights after the kids were asleep. The first time I went, a Saturday at around 9 the lady buzzed me in and was literally shocked when I asked for an admission ticket and skate rental. She thought I was a kid's mom coming to pick them up and expressed her extreme concern over me wanting to skate. She asked me how long it had been and when I said 25 years or so she looked at me like I was a complete lunatic and again encouraged me to rent every piece of protective gear the rink had. I thanked her and took my skates and left.

It's amazing how every roller rink smells exactly the same. That slight moldy smell. But even more amazing to me that I put those skates on, smiled at the panicked lady and I was off, instantly rekindling my love affair with the feeling of moving that way.

The tryouts a couple weeks ago were so much fun. I even fell once, due to my own stupidity in hitting one of my own skates against the other. It was a doozy, I was going pretty fast and went sliding on my stomach and forearms. Even that was a total blast, and because of it I have even less fear of falling as I start to train. I wanted to stand and cackle wildly, jump up and down. It was a reminder that I was fine, I just had to get back up, and keep going, skate even harder than before and find that wind on my face again as I glided around the rink. It's like I imagine flying would feel.

And yesterday I opened my new skate box, and that feeling was there, same as the first pair of skates I ever owned. A new partnership has begun. Their pristine appearance soon to be scuffed and flawed, marking each step and fall on my new adventure.

Monday, September 19, 2011

Training starts tomorrow

Protective gear arrived. Skates got here early. Oona is enamoured of my helmet.