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.
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