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.."
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.."
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