What is happening???

On December 8th my league had its end of the year party. Teams were to decide on 3 awards of their choosing. To my enormous surprise my team voted me to receive 2 of them, and I was both "Most Improved" and the "Dames Dame." I was stunned.

Most of the season I felt I was struggling. I spent a ton of time harshly judging myself, feeling like an outsider lacking in skills and game knowledge. Hugely intimidated often to the point of immobility by the powerhouse players on my team and in the league. Many evenings after practice were spent confronting fear and self doubt, driving Mr. Lebowski bonkers, staying up til 2 worrying, rehashing and fretting. I considered giving up so many times. But then I would wake up in the morning thinking more clearly and remember how much I love this sport and league and all that it gives me, realize again that the good things are well worth the challenges and exhaustion.

My first year of derby has left me with friends I will know a lifetime and memories that guarantee a smile that warms my whole face scalp and soul.

Joining the league I had hoped I would meet some cool, strong women. But what I have experienced this year far surpasses that expectation. Truth is, I was sinking miserably into isolation, dominated and exhausted by the demands of caring for 2 toddlers. There were days I was so lonely, and spoke to no one until we picked my husband up from work.

I feel the need to mention that I was dreading December 8 th as it was the one year anniversary of a dear friend of mine dying after several years of battling leukemia. She remained unbelievably positive and strong throughout, and left behind her 3 year old daughter. With our crazy lives in New York we never had enough time to spend together and I miss her profoundly.

I am in awe of and inspired by each of the women in the league, but there are a few I have been lucky enough to get to know more closely.

This is my love letter to them.  They have each saved me in unique ways this past year. Come to my rescue and loved me unconditionally over and over again. Insisted I honor my desire to do this, and think seriously and calmly about not giving up. Reminded me of the example I set for the Little Lebowskis and to look forward many, many years when I am able to tell my grandkids about having this dream and pursuing it.  Surprised me with elaborate care packages on my front porch when I spent a night in the hospital. Unexpectedly and joyfully Christmas bombed my house. Made me laugh till my face hurt, encouraged me when I wanted to give up, listened to me cry, took me on a birthday trip to Chicago, came willingly and excitedly to the wee viking's birthday party and made me jawdroppingly gorgeous team awards that will forever be prized possessions. My life is deeply affected and enriched by knowing each of them, they warm my soul, yanked me out of the mommy disconnect I was immersed in, and make me a better person each day I know them.

There's thoughtful, warm, powerful, steady, grounded, amazing GWrath. The first girl I spoke to at tryouts. She shook my hand with such friendliness and eye contact and kept insisting she knew me from somewhere. After knowing her a year it seems we have indeed known each other much longer. She taught me how to put on my wrist guards at tryouts and I lovingly refer to her as the Mayor of TCDG.

And my dear, kind, strong, honest, brilliant, determined Killy. Encouraging me, begging me to knock someone on their ass one time just so she could see it happen and I would believe it's possible, leaning her head on me during rule of the day. Coming over spur of the moment and on her way to work to help me heft some enormous play structure I found on the street over my fence for the kids. Pen pals with my boy. Meeting me in the park to play with the kids, encouraging me and complimenting my mothering skills when I have doubted myself.

Hilarious, generous, free spirited, gigantic hearted, fabulous cook, gypsy juice brewing, gorgeous Gator with her mile long legs, and cornucopia of fishnets and amazing booty shorts. My go to Derby attire guru, persuading me that, although drastically veering from my usual baggy old school gym shorts, the sparkly purple booty shorts were indeed a good idea and I could wear them. Never fails to make me smile. Her and her 32 lipglosses of very similar shades all toted around in her purse each day, which she willingly displayed for a very lucky few of us to view at a league meeting. We compare parenting notes and laugh about doing so in about 12 years when my kiddos are the ages hers are now. She utilized the phrase "Well that's a very broad question" with such comic timing that I can't write it now or probably say it ever without cracking up. Gator, "What is happening??"

Energetic, inspiringly confident, enthusiastic, motivated, artistic, beautiful, rock star Dame. My Senator's dance partner and giver of whips at practice. Instigator and vehement supporter of skillfully choreographed, sparkling moments of beauty during couples skates. "Hold my hand like you mean it damn it!!" One of the youngest in the league, exploding with life and all it has to offer. Driven and constantly striving to improve, making friends with everyone. Sitting down next to me on the bench at bouts to offer guidance or pushing me at practice to work harder than I knew I could and improve.

It is these women and all the others in the league that have fueled my experience this year and made it extraordinary. I am forever grateful. They are my friends, cheerleaders, confidants, and teachers. I had been feeling isolated and overwhelmed by motherhood and now I am surrounded and embraced by powerhouses. Their collective energies strengthen me, make me strive for greatness and I will love them always.

Stellar Moments

Lighthearted.
Surefooted.
Decisive.
Bold.

I have these words scrawled in marker on a beat-up piece of red construction paper, taped to my kitchen cabinet in a place that I am forced to view many times a day. Right next to a copy of the cherished photo Laura Fitch took of me on the bench at my first bout.

They appeared in my thinking after a meditation one evening last week. It had been a particularly exhausting kid-wrangling day with much emotional turmoil on their part. The kind of sobbing and dismay that as a mother seems to be wired directly to your central nervous system and slowly, agonizingly yanks at it. I was looking for some motivation to get myself to and through an 8:30 to 10:30 pm practice and those words came to me as I attempted to center myself and find some focus and strength. I'm still not sure if they are my mantra for derby or merely a description of my daughter.

I'm sitting here at my kitchen table after the peaceful hush of two toddlers finally napping has enveloped my home. With the absence of crumbsnatchers I can hear my wind chimes again and the lovely soft breeze. There is a beautiful sunny golden fall glow coming in my window.

But my heart is racing. I'm shaking. My breathing short and unsteady. The dog is looking at me funny. I can't decide if I should make another latte, use my phone-a-friend lifeline, lie down in a darkened room or just crack the bottle of bourbon.

Let me try and describe the scene at my house moments ago as I attempted to get the kids to nap today. 

The boy is running around the house chanting "000100010011000011111.....". After checking with Alan I am assured he hasn't been playing him the binary solo from "Flight of the Conchords." I'm also fairly certain he hasn't viewed any of my "Alias" DVDs and is reciting the Rambaldi Code that Sydney and Ana Espinosa had to memorize before the test tube cracked and that green chemical spilled all over and destroyed it in the suitcase in Berlin.

Although not ideal for a naptime setting, that's all quite manageable. The girl on the other hand has just taken a few more years off my life, contributed a few more gray hairs, and deepened the ever-growing creases in my face.

I've sung her "The Girl from Ipanema" several times. Played her Tom Waits nap time medley. Read about 26 books. Given her the "This is the last book. After this book it's time to go to sleep" warning. We take our time finishing up and then I pick her up to put her in her crib. 

I turn around long enough to switch on her nightlight, and as I turn back see her going from a handstand on the top bar of her crib to still holding on, flipping over backwards and dismounting with her butt and back headed towards the floor. Somehow my consciousness leaves my body and hovers over the scene unfolding. In slow motion I see all this, and see myself leaping across the room to catch her inches away from the floor and still holding onto the top rail of the crib. 

She is calm as can be. Unfazed. Smiling. For a second I completely believe I have created this in my imagination because I am so exhausted. But then I see the boy's face. He is literally saucer eyed and slack jawed and says "Mommy what did Oona just do? Mommy is that a yes or a no?" I also realize the whole time she was flipping she was saying "Mommy I just want to get out sit on the couch and reeeeaaaddd mooorrre books!!"

While I'm attempting to catch my breath we read about 45 more books and she finally allows me to put her in her crib. But then as I'm tucking her in my tiny Sydney Bristow informs me she wants to "kick her legs up AGAIN" when she wakes up after nap.

Her floor is now literally carpeted with every pillow and couch cushion in the house. I was considering blowing up the air mattress but I didn't know where it was.

She ran UP the steep slippery slide at the park this morning. As she was going up I rushed to assist her. As I touched her butt I realized she didn't need me at all. Her head was leading, her leg joints all deeply bent and her little pelvis was weightless as I attempted to guide her. It was effortless, and she ran her little purple converse up onto the platform in a blink of the eye. 

Perhaps I shouldn't have shown her those parkour videos this morning after she scaled the slide. Or the Cirque du Soleil. Maybe she's some sort of super hero like Monica Dawson with her adoptive muscle memory on "Heroes," and if she sees something she's able to then do it. By far the coolest super power ever. Just not so close to home or at such a young age.

Each time I look at that paper I can still hear my boy's soft voice as he read those words to me, leaning on me and carefully sounding each syllable out as I wrote them that night. They are very thick print because I went over each letter a few times as I explained each word to him over and over until he told me it made sense.

Some days I seriously doubt my ability to keep these children safe. More specifically, the girl. Daring and fearless. Stubborn and opinionated, incredibly independent. But so ridiculously sparkly, spunky, happy, goofy and loving. 

Currently I'm attempting a feat. It's conquering an old and very stubborn habit. One which has spread its dark cloud over all activities I have been involved with for the entirety of my 41 years. I am striving to shift my perspective to dwell on the stellar moments of my derby life. The ones that leave me smiling with all of my face, eyes twinkling, instead of tirelessly and cruelly reminding myself over and over of mistakes I've made and things I wish were different. I believe if I can achieve this feat in my derby life, not only will I be a better skater, but there's also a chance it will spill into my regular life and allow me to enjoy it more fully.

One such moment came the other day in scrimmage. All the tractor-trailer training we've been working on finally clicked. I was decisive. I saw the opposing jammer coming on the outside. One of my teammates had gotten in front of her and I picked up my feet and momentum, grabbed my teammate's hips and swung my hips into the jammer with everything I had. She went out of bounds and came back in. I was right there and so was my trusty tractor, stepping right along with me. I swung into the jammer again, knocking her out a second time. We were so ridiculously proud of ourselves that we almost started high-fiving right in the middle of the jam. We had a good laugh about that one after the whistle blew.

Applying the new derby outlook I'm attempting sheds a slightly different twist on my hypercritical and not-so-useful way of thinking about my parenting skills. Instead of bemoaning my daughter's independence, frightening boldness and the years they are shredding off my life, I will look to her for guidance in my pursuit of derby badassery.

I believe she was the perfect second baby for me to have, that she joined our family at exactly the right time (i.e. 10 months before I had the guts to attempt my 20 year derby dream). Perhaps it's slightly harsh, but to be honest if she had come before Aldo (who seriously spoiled us by being such an incredibly easy baby) we probably never would have attempted a second child after her. She put us through hell the first 6 months of her life.  It's totally bizarro, but I had a dream a when I was pregnant with Aldo about this bright eyed, ringlet-covered red-headed girl. It was clearly Oona, and we were shocked when the sonogram tech told us Aldo was a boy. But then there she was, my little Beatrix Kiddo, one-inch-punching herself out of me 19 months later.

Last Sunday was the league championship bout. I had a few goals for the evening. I held my daughter in my lap for a large part of the day, just soaking in her calm, joyful, powerful, confident, radiant, effervescent energy. She is truly small but mighty, and when she allows you to hold her for an extended period of time it is extraordinary. She goes full out with everything she does, and when she finally sits still she is a master of peacefulness. I let it pass through me, the feeling that is the essence of Oona.

My first goal was to allow myself to inhibit my nasty negative habits and self judgement and attempt to let myself experience the bout with a little more Oona in me. My second goal was to challenge myself to have more 360° awareness, be very conscious of the two jammers' positions in the pack when I skated, and attempt to anticipate the opposing blockers' moves and interfere with them to assist my jammer's path through the pack. My third goal was to try and stick to my derby mantra, scrawled on that piece of red paper in my kitchen.

I put my head down to sleep after the bout with no regrets. I was smiling big and was completely pleased with my skating, able to suspend my harsh self criticism and simply relish the amount I've grown this year.

A few posts ago I wrote about high fives and my love of them. One memory that will stick with me my entire life was the introductions before the bout. As I stood there with my team waiting for the announcer to call our names out, I could see and hear my girl in Alan's arms, her ecstatic little voice yelling "That's my mommy!! Number 40eeeeee! Bowskiii! Mom you are awesomesauce!" My whole team was cracking up, and I was pointing out where the kids were so my teammates could try and make sure to high five them as they skated past. I saw my dear friend and teammate Killy Loveless, off her crutches and standing unsupported, with her arms around my boy, them both just beaming, waiting for us to skate by. And when they called me and I got to skate that line of people along the track, all with their hands out smiling and offering their hands for high fives it was amazing. Even more amazing were the looks on my kids' faces when I skated by and touched their little soft hands. I will hold that memory with me forever, and I hope they do too.

The night of the championship was truly a stellar moment. It and the night last November we passed our WFTDA test make perfect bookends on the volumes of experience, challenge, learning and pure joy this first derby season has offered me. Two shining, extraordinarily stellar moments I will remember forever. One of the most positive experiences of my life, one of the best choices I've ever made, allowing myself to pursue a dream after so many years. I am filled with derby love and guaranteed eye twinkling smiles with each memory I have. So looking forward to next season.

Winning

My kid asked me the other morning on my first sip of coffee "what does winning mean?"

Anyone who knows me well can attest I am utterly useless prior to that first mouthful or two of my beloved caffeine. I barely know what day it is or whether I remembered to put on pants at that point, let alone answer such queries.

Truth is, I've been considering this for a while. What my response would be when this question came, whether it was as he got more into my bouts or had his own experiences on a team someday. Our goal as parents is to answer them both as honestly and speaking from as much personal experience as is possible.

Until this year I have never been a member of a team,  with the exception of the Alan/Kate attempting to raise two freakishly energetic and exasperatingly inquisitive children who are 19 months apart and not go insane in the process team. My pre-derby background is comprised of tons of dance, choreography and a few years of karate. Of course there was some competition in karate tournaments but nothing like the dynamics of being part of a competitive team, figuring out how you fit in and what contribution you can offer to the overall efficiency of the team.

Stating the obvious, in competitive sports there are two teams. With the exception of a tie, one is going to win and the other lose. Does that make the team with less points efforts any less valuable?

I guess if I had to define it I would say for me winning is a matter of committing. Choosing over and over to work harder than you think possible. Accepting your teammates completely. Embracing them as individuals, respecting them and learning to work with them. Suspending ego and allowing yourself to learn from them with no jealousy. Not being embarrassed of being wrong or making mistakes, and not allowing those concerns to interfere with your performance. To be passionate and bold, yet maintain calm and a sense of humor when things go terribly wrong. Holding onto the things that went well, acknowledging what wasn't optimal and improving on it. Having no regrets at the end of practice or a bout. Getting yourself in motion and committing, over and over again, particularly when you are challenged to the point beyond what you think is attainable. Getting my tired ass to practice when every fiber of my being is begging me to sit down, have a cocktail, be still and silent either on my porch or in a nice bath after a day of chasing the crumbsnatchers around, breaking up spats, deciphering exactly what is causing them to flail and screech like frustrated, earsplittingly vocal yet non-communicative fish out of water and just generally preventing them from killing themselves. 

I think the strength of a team is each member doing their personal best, working together to achieve a common goal. But within that common goal (which in competitive sports is obviously winning the game) I find there are layers of personal goals, unique to each player.

I'm in awe of the athleticism of my teammates, and just in general of a lot of the skaters in the league. It seems unattainable to me, that aggression and self confidence. I catch myself questioning why I should even play if I'm nowhere near that level. I often feel disheartened I didn't attempt derby sooner, when I was younger, with less bodily wear and tear, parental exhaustion and haze on my body and mind.

The truth is I love this. Completely. Love the amount of fears my journey has forced me to confront, the things I never thought personally possible. Love the physicality and strategy involved. But yet there are times I find myself wanting to give up because in this lifetime I just won't ever be at their level.

Then I think of all the opportunities this experience offers me. All the wonderful people I've met. And I think of what I would say to my kids if they adopted this defeatist,  negative attitude about something they love to do. I think of my beautiful, crazy curled Oona, in her happiest moments or upon waking just stopping, throwing her hands in the air and with a beaming smile that could melt tungsten yelling "Number 40eeeeeee!!!!! Bowskiiiiiii!!!!" then proceeding to spread her legs wide, go up on her toes and yell "Tomahawk stop!!!! Yeah!!" I think of Aldo, his eyes twinkling, coming up to me at half-time and hugging me, kissing me with his soft little face and wacky cowlicks,  telling me I'm awesomesauce as he fondles my knee pads or helmet.

I think of how terrified I was of falling when I started scrimmaging in February. How hitting another skater while you both are moving and in close proximity to a bunch of other bodies on wheels seemed so completely counter intuitive. How my right leg was numb for months and heavy to lift, screaming at me and threatening to give out each time I took a hit, attempted to deliver a hit or fell. I skated like that for two months because I just couldn't bear missing an opportunity to be on skates and with my leaguemates. It wasn't until the last bout in August that I came home and realized I had felt no pain. Confronting my fears of falling or being hit have been huge for me, both in skating and life. I can say I'm  working through them nicely, and lately my biggest fear is not being quick or fast thinking enough in my responses and missing a chance to interfere with the opposing jammer, whether it's attempting a hit or just getting in front of her so a teammate can.

I can't believe it's been a year since I tried out for the league. Tryouts were September 10 last year. I never thought I'd make it. It's still amazing to me that I was drafted to a home team and I have actually skated in bouts. I'm coming up on my 5th on September 16th.

This morning at practice we had to skate 25 laps in 5 minutes, while pushing another skater the whole time. As I took my turn pushing the lovely and effervescent Damé Sangre around, alternating between heavy breaths and laughing like a hyena I knew I was in exactly the right place. There was nothing else I'd rather be doing, no random thoughts or doubts cluttering my thinking. Just the absolute joy of the moment, digging in and working hard.

25 laps pushing Damé in about 4:41!!!

High Fives

We lived in New York for about 12 years. Our time there was bursting with unique, often times utterly amazing experiences. Things I will remember forever, stories I will tell my kids about.

I've seen a group of guys come onto my subway car, push the button on their boombox, perform gravity defying parkour moves off the seats, poles and walls of the car then finish with a total of 20 consecutive back flips in place, while the train was moving.

I've heard a capella groups sing on the trains and subway platforms that have made my jaw drop. Seen a blind dude with a cane and an accordion swing the doors open on the train at the exact moment the lights on the train went out, mutter "Goood evening ladies and gentlemen" and begin hammering out the theme from "The Godfather." Eaten ridiculous amounts of fabulous food that I still crave years later.

I've also witnessed a guy on the subway realize his wallet was stolen, stand blocking the one working door during rush hour and refuse to move until whoever boosted it gave it back. Jawdroppingly, it  was passed over the heads of the insanely crowded train and returned to him.

I spent the majority of my time there either bartending or waiting tables to put myself through Alexander training and I also had a home furnishings business to balance my teaching income after I graduated. I've made seat cushions for a Ghostbuster's kitchen, taught Alexander Technique to a runway model, waited on Sidney Poitier, Stevie Wonder, Peter Jennings, Pierce Brosnan, Dolce and Gabbana, Kevin Bacon, Nathan Lane, Matt Damon many times as he was just finishing up "Good Will Hunting" and still unknown, Salman Rushdie, an inebriated Rod Stewart, Larry David and the entire cast of Seinfeld, spilled wine on Rosie Perez, and quite surreally seen both Sir Ian McKellan and Cate Blanchett walk past my house.

All of these experiences make excellent stories, but by far the absolute best part of living in New York is the day of the Marathon. Unequivocally the most fabulous day of the year. In my old Brooklyn neighborhood, Fort Greene, people filled the sidewalks shoulder to shoulder, several bodies deep. The guy who lived in the brownstone across the street from the bar I worked at would have these giant speakers on his steps and a microphone in hand, bellowing encouraging words to the runners and leading the crowd in cheers. He would be blasting C&C Music Factory, the Village People, Michael Jackson and every other up tempo 80's dance music you could think of. It was breathtaking, the sense of community and good will in that neighborhood, and all across the city each Marathon day.

It was extraordinary to see the world class runners in the first pack pass by in the blink of an eye. But even better was witnessing the other runners following that pack. The people from every country you could think of. The office workers. The moms. The everyday people with their names on their shirts passing by in an endless sea of feet and legs, collectively pounding those streets I walked every day. Bystanders reading some random stranger's name off their shirt, cheering for them as if they were a long lost friend, jumping over the police barrier into the street and offering a hand for a high five. People walking around handing out doughnuts to the crowd, water and Gatorade to the runners. Each year Alan and I would stand there, participate in cheering runners on and I would inevitably cry. I was always so incredibly moved by the goodness of the day. It gives me shivers as I sit and write this, the memories of the energy of that day.

I always wondered what that must be like, to be on the receiving end of those cheers and high fives from complete strangers. I guessed it must be pretty energizing from seeing the smiles cross the faces of the more exhausted looking runners, seeming to be lifted up and carried a few blocks by the energy in Fort Greene as they ran through.

The past two bouts I've been in I have gotten my own little piece of that marathon day magic, and I tell you, it's completely awesome. For those of you who haven't been, at the beginning of every bout the teams line up, each skater is announced and takes a lap around the track. Tons of people and kids line up and stick their hands out for high fives as you skate by. As you whiz around you are greeted by a wall of goodness, hands and smiles. Totally, totally fun, as amazing and energizing as I had imagined.

The morning after the bout my husband greeted me with a hot, strong, fresh latte. The wee ones were running around my kitchen in a derby direction line, laughing their little asses off, proclaiming themselves "roller derby teammates working together" and shouting out in very deep voices, "Numberrrr 40eeeee!! Maraud Lebowskiiiii!!!" Then they would stop very abruptly, raise up their heels and stand on tippy toe in some crazy jazz dance or kung fu stance, shouting "Tomahawk stop!!! Yeah!" Then begin chasing each other all over again.

After practice Wednesday night I had to stop at the grocery. It was 10:30 and I was sort of self conscious of the hot pink tights/striped orange and hot pink socks/deep purple Converse the boy had selected for me to wear to practice. Have I mentioned he is my dresser, the Jerome to my Morris Day, and selects my derby wear for each practice? On top of this get up I am completely drenched and still sweating, probably looking a bit bizarro and no doubt incredibly stinky to the average, non-derby bystander. I'm in line and I hear this huge guffaw from the guy who just got in line behind me. I remember the glimpse I had caught of him as I was getting my six pack and he was loading an enormous case of Coors Light into his cart with his bud over in the cooler area and I cringe, waiting to be mocked for my appearance.

Instead I hear, "Maraud Lebowski. Ha! Oh my god that is f$%king hilarious. Derby, right?? Seriously, that's the best derby name ever. Genius. Freaking genius. Amazing." And he goes on and on, doubled over and laughing, furiously quoting the movie to his friend who I'm certain has never seen it, laughing uproariously at the quotes I'm firing back and I think we are collectively kind of scaring the lone, slightly haggard check out lady with our enthusiasm. He's bellowing "Up top sister!!" and offering me his hand, over and over. He's vowing to wear his Walter Sobchak outfit from Lebowskifest to my next bout and I'm telling him about the purple Jesus Quintana costume I made Alan for Halloween a few years ago. We have bonded instantly, he proclaims himself my number one fan. Minutes later, I'm getting in my car and he runs over to give me yet another high five.

Mistakes, Moments and Beginning Again

She picked up momentum and body checked me with all her weight as we were coming around the corner. I  wasn't low enough, heard her kind of growl, my breath exit me with me with an "ogghhhh" and somehow I ended up backwards with an excellent view of everyone's skates and a few fishnetted legs coming at me. "Ooooo look at that girl's sweet toe guards, wow, this floor is very shiny, keep your hands in fists so nobody runs over your fingers, thank goodness I wore the padded shorts tonight, and oh wow I'm going over backwards now" are the things that rushed through my head in the 2-3 seconds I had to get up as I executed some type of crazy backwards ninja roll, got up on my toe stops, and sprinted off to try and catch up with the pack.

May 19 was my first bout. And it was extraordinary.  I relished every moment of it.  I am head over heels (literally) in love. Can't wait for this Sunday, when we get to go again. From the warm up to the afterparty, one of the best nights of my life, full of moments that will forever make me smile. These women are amazing, they and these experiences enrich my life in multitudes of ways.

Speaking of in love, I sold my bike and a ton of baby stuff and got new skates and wheels. My starter skates were a bit too large and on top of that they had stretched out so much that each time I picked my leg up to cross over I could feel them drop slightly off my foot and my toes shift side to side as well as forward and back inside the boot. It was really awful, and beginning to cause me significant back and leg pain. I sold them as well and am now in a ridiculously amorous, borderline fetishistic relationship with my new ones and my new wheels. Alan just laughs (perhaps a bit uneasily) at me as I come home, clean my wheels and toast my new loves, sticking my nose deep into them, sniffing the soft leather, repeatedly proclaiming my love and fondling the sweet stripes on the sides. At some point I will probably grace you all with a ode or perhaps a love sonnet to my skates, so please stay tuned for that excitement.

I was lucky enough to have a few awesome pictures taken by our league photographer. I will cherish these as I do several taken when I was dancing in Pittsburgh and one of me bald in my gi, breaking a board with my hand in Washington Square park when we lived in New York and were studying karate. What's similar about all these prized photos is that I can remember those moments with absolute clarity, and looking at them allows me to relive some pretty powerful experiences.

photo by Laura Leonard Fitch

It's my mindset in the  shot on the right that I love. I know exactly when it was taken, what I was thinking. There were no second guesses, my usual string of worries and self flagellation were absent. I was uncharacteristically calm, completely in the moment. I was feeling my feet in my new skates, my sit bones on the chair, the huge industrial fan blowing on my back on that wickedly hot day, enjoying the movement of my breath, taking it all in, completely immersed in the moment. I wasn't dwelling on the past, attempting to plan the future. I was there, fully present in that chair, not even slightly worried about the kids. It was a moment solely for me. Alan printed this photo and it hangs on the wall over our kitchen table. I look at it daily, especially during the hectic times and remind myself that it's possible, I'm still capable of calm, focus and clarity in moments of chaos.

Speaking of hectic moments....

Perhaps it's an overshare, but if I am able to think about it objectively I feel this story is hilarious and pretty much too disgusting not to share.

Our latest endeavor is toilet training the boy. We have graduated him to awesome underwear (which is adorable and I am including photos) except during his nap and overnight. After about a day he pretty much got it down.

Today he decided it was imperative that he hold his full sippy cup and drink while he was peeing, so he could "watch the water drain out of him." Not yet having my second coffee and too exhausted to argue I stupidly agreed to this. He usually wants me to squat next to him and hold his hand when he's aiming. Moments later the cup drops into the toilet with a huge PLOP and I am the recipient of a face and shirt full of boy pee and toilet water. I'm fairly comfortable with playing the fool, so I feel inclined to also mention that my mouth was open, mid-sentence praising him for his achievements.

Bumbling. Confused. Slow witted. Lacking confidence and unable to make quick decisions. These are just a few ways I would describe my daytime persona. My main focus each day is to prevent the children from damaging themselves, defusing tantrums, deciphering what has caused them to inexplicably freak out and creating distractions to prevent it from happening again. The amount of brain power and energy this requires leaves little focus for much else.

By the time 5 PM rolls around and I'm on the way to pick up Alan I'm exhausted, in need of a glass of wine and ready to lay down. The days I have derby practice I often question where the heck I'm going to find the energy and mental clarity to go and participate. Although these thoughts flutter about like ominous, party pooping gargoyles in my completely hazy brain, I manage to gather and pack my gear with the boy sitting on the bed and meticulously, thoughtfully choosing my derby socks. I can honestly say once I am there and skating they vanish. Things become clearer. I find my breath, discover untapped energy.

Clarity of thought. Focus. Staying in the moment. The ability to begin again. These are things I've been studying a large portion of my life, with dance, Alexander Technique, karate, parenthood and now roller derby. The "beginner's mind" our karate sensei spoke about in depth and my Alexander training are are both so pertinent to learning derby. It's incredibly easy to get stuck on mistakes I've made in the last 2-minute jam or second guess parenting choices. This habit totally interferes with my ability to be fully available to respond to situations in the next moment and I realize it is present in most activities I am involved in.

One of the best parts of a scrimmage or bout is that every 2 minutes or every time we get up we are able to start over with a new jam, a different strategy. If we allow it, this game structure enables us to acknowledge (but not dwell on) what wasn't so great about the past one, build on what we did well, wipe the toilet water off our faces, and begin again.

Cultivating Derby Ambidextrousity

I have a theory.

Usually when I proclaim this my husband looks at me with a bemused expression on his mug and takes another slow swig of his cocktail as if he's awaiting the hilarious punchline. But hear me out, dear readers.

Derby Ambidextrousity begins with Ambidexcrossity.

My most recent personal project is working to perform clean, efficient cross overs while skating in non-derby direction, or clockwise around the track. I believe this is the key to becoming a more ambidextrous  blocker.

Currently I am struggling with having a fairly decent, consistent body check to offer with my right side, and a limp, borderline laughable one with ol' leftie. I have experienced pride filled moments when very strong teammates yell "F@%* you Lebowski!" or say "Yeah, I think you have that side down" during hitting drills if I use my right side. But my left side is seriously lacking the same oomph. My goal is to have consistent body checks on both sides and be capable of positioning myself to perform them without any great ordeal.

Since it seems as if I had only very recently arrived in my body and then decided to put skates on seconds later when I skate opposite derby direction I believe this is something that needs addressing. You see, my right leg assures me that it can't support my weight around the corners as I attempt to pick up my left and cross over. My right knee says it is not within the realm of possibility to bend and align over my right ankle and foot. And ol' leftie is not much help either, grounded to the floor by some invisible and very high power magnet, adding to my body's belief that this feat is impossible.

So I have set out on this quest to prove them all wrong. Silly, self-important body parts, don't you know you really don't have any say, that it's the brain that gets to make the decisions??

Familiarity is a powerful thing. How accustomed we get to doing something one way. How easy it is to become one sided, both in our thought and movement. The limitation this presents in life but also to my skating is notable. I believe that this one-sidedness ultimately weakens our structure and its potential power, and we should work to eliminate it.

Ever read about or see the ambidextrous baseball pitcher? I believe he is the only around one able to pitch with both arms. Amazing. I want to be that guy. From what I understand, from a very young age his parents simply encouraged him to do everything with both hands equally.

Historically boxers who fight southpaw also have a tremendous advantage over orthodox fighters. Roy Jones Jr. was knocked out for the first time in his career by Antonio Tarver, who is a southpaw. Floyd Mayweather, known for his invincible defense has also lost twice to southpaws. I have seen a few boxers and also a few fellow karate students be able to switch back and forth and I tell you, it's extraordinary and makes for a fascinating fight.

My guess is that since I spend about 6 hours a week skating derby direction my use gets overly committed to that organization. My plan is that if I just spend a good amount of time skating opposite derby direction and crossing over the whole time I will eventually build up the organization and familiarity on that side as well.

I also think this will assist me in achieving a more reliable hit with my left side. My muscles or perhaps just my thinking has some slight discrepancy from being used in the counterclockwise skating organization the vast majority of the time. This must have something to do with the complete confusion I  feel when attempting to line up and body check someone on my left side.

All this very, very basic scientific process aside, the main issue is that I passionately despise feeling limited and even though I may grumble, I love a good challenge. If I am able to do something like consistently cross over in derby direction I see no excuse for allowing it to feel so foreign on the opposite side.

Concussion, Chrissie Hynde and First Ice Cream

I got hurt Saturday morning at practice. I'm sort of embarrassed and in a twisted way disappointed to have no exciting story of receiving a mega body check from an Amazonian blocker, getting lifted off my feet and thrown to the ground, smacking my head and getting a minor concussion. Nope. I fell during the friggin' warm up, before I even had a chance to scrimmage.

I was going around the corner in a spread eagle type dealio, with my feet wide to the sides. Another skater zigged and I zagged and I tumbled in slow motion, feet up and landing on my butt and back, catching myself a bit with my arms but also punctuating the whole display with a huge whack of the back of my helmet as it hit the ground. I saw stars for a second. I sat there for a minute to recover. Then I started making jokes, got up and continued the warm up, even though things were a bit blurry, my legs felt shaky and I felt a bit nauseous. Did I mention I am a very stupidly stubborn person?

Being that stubborn-to-a-flaw girl, I proceeded with getting equipment check for the scrimmage, the whole time feeling woozy and not on my legs. Sort of floating through the motions. Then I (inexcusably, ridiculously, stupidly) decided to try to participate in a jam and see how I felt.

Wow. The whole two minutes it was as if I was moving in super slow motion. Other skaters were swerving in front of and behind me and all the motion was making me extremely nauseous and dizzy. It was seriously all I could focus on to stand up. As I sit and write this now I am ashamed of my stupidity, how insanely dangerous what I did was not only for me but my fellow skaters.

Yesterday I woke up with incredible soreness in my jaw, neck, shoulders, back, and in my sides when I took a deep breath. I gave in, went to the doctor, and got checked. He confirmed a minor concussion, and a ton of muscle strain as a result of what I had probably tensed to protect myself as I headed for the floor. Amazing how our bodies work, the way we are programmed to protect ourselves. There's the Alexander teacher in me talking. The mom is harshly scolding herself for her bullheadedness and stupidity, and the derby girl in training is wildly annoyed she missed a chance to scrimmage, especially since I just put on my swanky new toe guards and have my first bout in May. The doctor told me to give myself at the very least 72 hours to rest, not do anything too straining, and not to skate.

So let me tell you about a 45 minute window of my morning of not doing anything too straining.....

It's lunch time. I'm getting the kid's food ready. Aldo is in his chair, eating his yogurt. Because Oona was born with a fire under her butt she is unable to sit in her highchair for long periods of time (which for her equates to more than 10 minutes) without completely going bonkers. She also has a strange aversion to actually eating in her chair. Despising any compromise to her mobility and freedom (see bull headed, overly energetic, and excitable mother) we allow her to wander and sort of prime her pump with a part of her dinner until Aldo has eaten a bit and sometimes us too, otherwise we are regaled by earsplitting screeches, groans, tears and protests reminiscent of Gollum with the elven rope as we attempt to shovel our food in.

Today the little hellion was attempting to push her brother's high chair (with him in it) around the kitchen. She actually succeeded a few times, and I caught myself slack jawed and marveling at her super strength before I reminded myself that I needed to reprimand her.

I turned around for one second to flip the quesadilla I was making and she somehow managed to pull his tray, complete with food off his chair. There was a full bowl of yogurt and some veggie chips all over the floor. The girl had suddenly found her appetite and was slipping on the yogurt, proceeding to eat it and the chips. Our ancient cat walked through the yogurt and actually slipped. Now I had to not only clean up the girl and the floor, fish the yogurty floor chips out of her vice-like grip, but follow the yogurt footprints and wipe the cat down.

The boy is saying "It's ok Oona, it's ok. I was done" and singing "she's special....soooo special...gotta have some of your attention! Give it to me!!" In the chaos of the great yogurt slick clean up I manage to hear the radio and sure enough, "Brass in Pocket" by the Pretenders is playing.

Did I mention Aldo named his sister's stuffed bunny Chrissie Hynde? He also recently named her bear Morrissey, one of his bears Herzog, his stuffed rabbit Dave Brubeck, his monkey Bono and renamed his stuffed narwhal The Edge. I also should mention that once I caught my little Costanza eating the same food she had rejected in her chair out of the garbage can.

Somehow I manage to get this all cleaned up and they are both secure in their chairs. Aldo is finishing up with a bunch of fruit and some teddy grahams. He is pretending the bears are falling down and slipping "like mommy does at roller skating and like Oona when she is is danger because the floor is very wet with yogurt. Mommy should put a wet floor sign down so Oona doesn't fall." He's stacking the bears up, like in the photo. Calling them "bear devils." Then he starts to snuggle a teddy graham under his arm, like the picture on the box. He's saying "I looove you bear. You are my friend. I am protecting you like in the picture on the box. I am protecting you because you are soooo crunchy and delicious." And then into his mouth goes the bear he was taking such good care of under his arm.

All this in less than 45 minutes.

It's Calgon moments like this that I work to remind myself of the less chaotic, heart melting, tear producing moments of sweetness.  The moments I say, "Now THAT'S why I had kids." My husband, a little less poetic than me but sharing my tears describes them as "moments that melt your heart right out your asshole."

So far to date one of the greatest moments of parenthood for me is witnessing my kids' first ice cream. Both of their first tastes, the first time it touched their mouths are very similar. They got this slightly surprised, puzzled look on their faces. Then after they swallowed, their eyes lit up and they started giggling, a smile crossing their entire face.

I think about what they must feel when their faces light up like that. The utter joy and wonder they must be experiencing and it makes me incredibly happy. I know my face does this sometimes when I look at them. I know it also does it when I am skating super fast, crossing over, and feeling good, or executing a perfect tomahawk as I power through my favorite suicide drill.

Since her chin split and trip to emergency Oona has been extremely shy and clingy when confronted with strangers. Friday night we took the kids with us to a bowling party for derby. She was glued to me for the better part of the time we were there, face buried in my chest. And Aldo was giving my poor hubster a real time of it, attempting to run away from him, slide down the lanes and examine all the brightly colored bowling balls. Although we couldn't let this happen, I completely understand. I am crazy about bowling, have dreamt of sliding down those shiny slick lanes myself on many occasions. And the variety of colorful balls is amazing.

Right at our breaking point, Alan had the brilliant idea of sitting him at the lunch counter and ordering a milkshake. They brought it back to me and the girl, still clinging like velcro-baby to me. Aldo kept insisting that she try it. She eventually did, that smile crossed her face and suddenly my shy, clingy baby returned to her usual firecracker state, swatting the straw out of my mouth as I attempted to have a sip of shake, and shoving it into her own, taking long, deep determined swigs.

And this happened in the midst of a bowling alley, surrounded by extraordinary derby women. Couldn't have been a more perfect first ice cream moment.

Wow has it been almost a month???

It's certainly been an action-packed month for me. A lot of firsts, a ton of new, exciting, and at times mildly frightening experiences. Lots of learning.

My first news to report is that I submitted my name for the league draft to potentially be picked up from the rookie team to an actual home team. To my surprise, I am a new member of the Damagin Dames, whose color is purple. Anyone who knows me understands my affinity for that color, so needless to say I am totally hooked up in the team spirit clothing department. To my dismay, I also had to get a photo taken and write a short bio for the TCDG website. Check it out! I hope I didn't go a bit overboard with the jaunty crossed arms and eyebrow raise in the photo. I was trying to visualize myself after a season of working hard, training and scrimmages, attempting to pose for the skater I aspire to be.

I also went to my very first bout last weekend, which was extraordinary. Both the TCDG A and B teams are like superheroes to me. They are FREAKING AMAZING. Teamwork, teamwork, communication, strategy and skills!!! If I turn out half as good as these girls I will be thrilled beyond my wildest dreams. Seriously, it's something to aspire to. To witness the blockers working together, having such 360 degree awareness of the entire pack and both jammers,simultaneously defensively and offensively blocking was fantastic. I loved the whole experience, from beginning to end. And the jammers. Wow. I don't know where to begin with my level of just utter, gushing awe.  I haven't been this into a sport since the entire 2006 baseball season ending in my heartbreak at the National League Championship between the Cardinals and my Mets. Just look at this catch by Chavez. Outstanding.

I have been scrimmaging for 2 weeks now, and it would be accurate to describe me as on my ass or in the penalty box much more than any time spent actually skating and in the game. The majority of the rest of the time I spend shuddering in my skates, breathing shakily and in a haze of confusion and fear.

Goals I have set for myself: crossovers with my left leg when skating clockwise, or reverse derby direction. My observations about this are that I seem to be reasonably proficient at this skill if I am the only person skating. Once the whole league is on the track a strange phenomenon occurs. It's as if I've never balanced just on my right leg and my left leg has a large weight lashed to it, preventing me from lifting it to perform a cross over. The Alexander Technique teacher in me is fascinated with how strong an interference my brain can provide to efficient functioning. The derby girl is annoyed and frustrated with my one-sided and very stubborn muscle memory convincing me that non-dominant leg crossovers are an impossibility.

Besides being an ambi-cross-overer another goal is running on my toe stops. I want to achieve a more explosive start. I have no problem picking up speed once I'm going, but I would really like to be able to start with more power as well. Again, I believe my thinking is the interference here. I can do quick footwork drills side to side, front and back on my toe stops. Given, I am a total wackadoo, but doing burpees, hopping up and then down into a push up on them is one of the most fun things I can think of. But my thinking warns me that taking off running on them at the start of a jam or drill is insane, that I will more than likely break both of my ankles, collapse in a pitiful, twisted heap and be run over by everyone. I really need to have a heart to heart with my thinking and somehow get over this.

Wednesday night we did my newest all-time favorite drill: working on plow stops, with someone pushing you from behind as you skate and also as you execute the stop. This is the first time the plow stop really started to make sense to me physically. Because it's impossible for me to look at movement from a non-Alexander perspective this was a genius piece of coaching to impose the extra momentum and weight on us as we practiced the stop. For me it really turned the volume up on the muscular organization and directions required to effectively do the stop.

What I discovered was the deeper you bend, crease in your hips, stick your butt out, the more weight you can direct down into your wheels and the floor as you angle your toes in the easier it got. Being the pusher, you feel way more resistance as the person in front exaggerates all these details in the stop. And as the pushee, you can feel the targeted parts of your legs kick in more clearly with someone pushing you as you stop.

The exaggeration of muscular work needed with the partner pushing you really helped me make a lot more sense of the plow stop. I learned that if I tuck my butt even slightly and as a result shorten my lumbar curve it makes it harder and a little painful in my hips to stop, especially with the added momentum/weight of the person behind you. Your lower back starts to take the brunt of the work that your legs should be doing and I imagine long term plow stopping like that would eventually cause some pain there. I found it helpful to think about all six leg joints bending deeply in the stop, lengthening along the backs of my legs and letting my sitbones aim back on a diagonal rather than straight down at the floor.

The Alexander teacher in me has also been pondering derby position. In Alexander speak, it is pretty much the same thing as "monkey," what we refer to as the "position of mechanical advantage." It's not a fixed position but a place where the most optimal counterbalances of our bones and muscles occur.

Our spine has the ability to lengthen through our movement if we utilize monkey. A lengthened spine with its inherent spring-loaded action can provide us with balance, power, stability, and recovery. Derby is all about stimulus and response. Our balance of muscle to bone is constantly renegotiated in response to the multitudes of different stimuli that occur as we skate. We can never be fixed in one place in our organization. We need speed, agility, power to body check someone, adaptability and balance to counter a block or recover from the ground as we are repeatedly knocked to it.

The minute you tuck your butt as you skate it shortens your spine, compromising not only your lumbar but also cervical and thoracic curves. It severely limits your movement potential. A compressed spine also really limits the availability we have in all of our leg joints. Myself included, I see a lot of people stand up out of prolonged skating in derby stance and put hands on their lower backs, twisting or bending back a bit to relieve achiness in their lumbar region. There's a strong partnership between legs and back in skating, and I think when our backs are hurting we also need to consider our legs and what we are doing with them and the muscles surrounding the ankles, knees and hips. I think about this partnership a lot, how my legs influence my spine and back and vice versa.

Speaking of partnership, I believe the kiddos are plotting against me. Aldo showed me this photo from "One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish" the other day at naptime. He pointed to the yellow fish falling backwards and told me (in an eerily calm, quiet and sweet voice) that was me. Ever curious, I inquired who the other two were. He told me the red one was Daddy and that he was "the little happy smiling blue one."

My daughter Oona, has a habit of staring deadpan (and with what I would consider extremely intense eye contact for a one and a half year old) at you when you are telling her no. Then she blantantly continues whatever it was she was doing that had caused you to tell her no in the first place. This staring contest is often times punctuated with cackles of laughter erupting out of her as she maintains eye contact and continues to do whatever it was she was doing. Aldo used to do something similar when I told him no. He would pull his shirt up, show me his belly and stare blankly at me.

This week she pulled down the curtain sheers on one of the windows. I'm guessing this could perhaps be my fault in part because I chose to show them "Singin in the Rain" and they were transfixed by "Moses Supposes." She was laughing wildly at me as I told her no strongly, struggling to wrestle the metal curtain rod out of her vice-like grip and rehang it in the window. With military precision and faster than I could blink the two of them then worked as a team to take down the sheers in two other windows. It's the beginning of a beautiful partnership, similar to that of Gene Kelly and Donald O'Connor as they terrorize their poor diction coach and dance their way through that scene. Many days it seems I am playing the part of that guy.

February 13 GALantine's Day Derbyball Spectacular

I was the kid in highschool who was so anti-gym class and sports that I would protest by running the opposite direction of the ball in gym class when we played basketball or football. I would sit down on the grass when I was inevitably placed in the farthest nether region of the outfield in baseball. A total dork, I was the kid who was pitifully bombarded with balls in dodgeball. I was perpetually the last one picked for teams. I loathed gym class. Until I discovered I could do super cool things like archery, ping pong, and bowling if I fufilled my gym requirement in summer school.

It's not that I wasn't athletic. I was a dancer since I was 9. I was super shy, didn't have many friends and I really missed out on the fun and camaraderie of being involved in a team sport. I was always pretty good on skates. I started when I was 5, and for most of my gradeschool and high school careers I LIVED for being on skates and going to the rink. Where I grew up they would do all night skates, where they'd lock you in from 8 pm to 8 am. And I would skate that entire 12 hours, stopping only for the bathroom or a snack.

Everything is more fun on skates.

Or maybe I'm just more fun on skates.

Last night at practice we played basketball on skates. And suddenly the absolute rush and excitement of being on a team came into sharp focus. I actually loved basketball last night, and I have to say, I don't think I was nearly as atrocious at it as I was in my tortured, super dorky high school days. I could actually dribble. I could dribble while skating backwards!  I was proficient at passing the ball back and forth with my teammates, while skating both backwards and forwards, and I surprised myself with my aggressiveness of blocking. I actually attempted to knock the ball out of people's hands and jumped a few times to knock it out of the air. True to form, I still couldn't make a damn basket to save my life. Always the overachiever, I was constantly whipping the ball all the way over the backboard. But no one laughed at me, at least not maliciously. My teammates actually still passed me the ball. Amazing.

I'm told there is video and I can't wait. I'm sure it was quite the spectacle. For Vice Quads practices we are in a little gymnasium in a gradeschool. It really was excellent use of the space, and in my opinion pure coaching genius. This activity contains so many of the skills we need for derby. The footwork, skating in different directions, running on toe stops, teamwork. We were sliding like crazy people for the ball when it rolled, tomahawk stopping all over, shooting from standing on our toe stops, squatting down and swooping the ball up after someone  dropped it. Laughing our asses off and sweating like maniacs.  Totally totally awesome.

When I put my skates on it does something to me, alters my confidence and personality in the most outstanding ways. I fancy myself an entry level super hero. I become brave. I take chances. It has always offered me that, since I was 5 and put on my first pair of metal, adjustable strap on skates and conquered my bumpy driveway, that awesome wind on my face, egging me on.

Saturday's practice was also totally fun too. I was just unable to lift my arms to write about it for 2 days after. We did a ton of military crawls and a wrestling type warm up. We were on our hands and toe stops, legs bent and torso raised off the ground. We had to walk forwards and backwards in that position many many MANY times. Fun fun fun. So. Much. Fun.

My newest goal is to be proficient at crossing over when skating the opposite direction on the track, both forwards and backwards. When skating counter-clockwise (normal derby direction) I have no problem crossing my right leg over. When skating backwards clockwise, I am the queen of crossing that right leg over. I'm like freaking Nancy Kerrigan, performing in the Ice Capades. (Ooooo....there's another excellent derby name, Nancy Impairigan!!)  Whenever skating direction dictates a left leg cross over, be it clockwise forward or counter-clockwise backwards it's as if there's a humongous magnet holding that left leg to the floor, not allowing me to lift it and perform the cross over. It's wacky how confused my body gets, how instilled the muscle memory of skating counter-clockwise most of the time is, and as a result how foreign crossing over with the left leg becomes. I know I can do it, but in the moment my body is totally confused.

Being that it is Valentine's Day it wouldn't be right if I didn't pay a little homage to the crazy little pot- bellied angel dude in this post. He has hit me hard with one of his heart tipped arrows and I am smitten with all these amazing, energetic, hilarious women and this sport.

My daughter, my inspiration.

One has not fully grasped the joys or more accurately heartbreak of parenthood until witnessing 4 grown women struggling to hold down your one year old as she repeatedly grapples her way out of their attempts to restrain her. This is how I spent last night.

I'm still pretty frazzled from the whole experience this afternoon and not sure whether I should be really proud or terrified of her strength and spirit.

Her drive to fight and keep trying to escape from a total of 8 hands, arms and two huge sheets wrapping her like a burrito was extraodinary, along the lines of Beatrix Kiddo, Sidney Bristow or Buffy. She's a grappler, for sure. I know this from changing her diaper many many times a day and breaking a sweat each time, even in the depths of winter. She vigorously took on these unexpecting ladies and gave them quite a challenge. The whole scene was borderline sickening to my mom eyes. But to my derby eyes it was beyond inspiring.

I recognized one move she was attempting in her escape and warned them she was headed for the edge of the table quicker than they could blink. I don't know if they didn't believe me but it was after she executed that one that they called in the fourth nurse. It was as if she could sense the lady on her legs getting fatigued or softening her grip, because then she would powerfully kick her legs way up in the air, lifting her pelvis off the table and then slam her legs back down and the whole sheet wrap would unravel, causing them all to scramble to recover. As they fumbled, she was already over on her stomach, fully unwrapped and almost off he edge of the table.

A quick recap. Last night before dinner Oona fell, caught the toy she was holding just right on her knee and smashed it into her chin. She bit her tongue as well and blood was pouring out of her mouth. She also had a 1/2 inch gash on her chin and the sides of it were pretty open. She was only really unhappy when we tried to hold her, get some ice on it and assess how bad the cut was. She managed to eat a huge dinner, which is unusual for her because she can be an annoyingly fussy eater. She truly was only crabby when we tried to comfort her. She didn't want comforting, she wanted to be free to continue exploring and wreaking havoc.

It is this drive and fighting spirit that motivates me. I was much more shaken from the whole experience than she was. I got her out of the hospital and into the car and in moments she was silently crunching her goldfish crackers. When I brought her into the house and put her down, chin glued and taped shut she was off and running from room to room, attempting to lift her brother's potty training stool over her head as if nothing had happened or it wasn't past her normal bedtime. Her adaptability astounds me.

Although she is at times both exhausting and infuriating, I'd love to be more like her. Joyful. Taking wild and often absolutely ridiculous chances in the name of exploration and freedom. Powerful and insanely fast. Utterly fearless. Strikingly mighty despite her wee size. Unstoppable. Able to escape the limitations provided by 4 nurses more than 3 times her size. And most importantly, never giving up.

6 hours of Delicious Skating Goodness

3 practices this week! 6 hours of delicious skating goodness. I couldn't be more excited. Sadly, there is just not enough time for me to write this entry covering all three as well as I would like. Being a major klutz I also sustained a pretty painful injury this week.

Which had absolutely NOTHING to do with derby, but was incurred while existing in the Peter Parker portion of my life. Hee hee. "Peter Parker portion. Peter Parker portion". Say that several times fast.

It was an especially hectic lunchtime with the kiddos on Thursday. One plus to the pandemonium (oooo what an excellent derby name that would be..."Pam DeMonium") was that I was getting a ton of squats and lunges in, constantly picking up the various objects, sippy cups, and dog-toxic grapes and raisins that were being flung.

Yes people, I am just that much of a nerd. Treating every retrieval as a chance to work my lunges and squats. I also sometimes do this throughout my day with my one year old and her 20ish pounds in tow. She enjoys the ride and I get in some weighted squats with the boy dancing around us as we listen to his musical requests.

The one time I slipped out of my work out routine and bent over from my waist (all of you Alexander Tech people would have shuddered..) to pick some child type thing up during lunch I stupidly smacked my eye socket/brow into a chair and howled in agony. I saw stars, I actually felt my eyeball get nudged back into the socket, and momentarily forgot my boy's name. Luckily we haven't completely succeeded in breaking his habit of speaking of himself in third person and that brain fart was corrected. I went to the mirror and watched the lump on my eyebrow grow and the inside corner of my eye turn black. I held an ice pack on and off for the rest of lunch and surprisingly the blackening went away.

All I wanted to do in that moment was sit with the dog's head in my lap and moan or maybe whimper for a bit. My head and eyeball hurt so badly, I was dizzy and my vision in that eye was blurry. Aldo was yelling and Oona was deep in her normal mealtime insanity, vehemently refusing most foods I put in front of her. But I had to pull it together because my kids are little (2 1/2 and 1) and they were getting freaked. What helped me do that was the previous night's practice, knowing it was especially challenging and that I had done it.

One drill we did was bonkers fun, kind of like Navy Seal practice on skates. I believe some of the girls refer to it as "Satan's Mattress" or something to that extent. It involves sprinting a lap, then sliding on a knee or two, dropping and doing increasing amounts of pushups, situps and holding plank position. We did this for a long time, often with 25 push or sit ups in between sprints. Total fun. Crazy, sweaty, heart pounding, adrenaline rushing, derby high fun. The memory of that specific drill is what brought me back to my little yellow kitchen and the importance of regaining my composure.

After Wednesday's practice my "extended adrenaline rush super power" must have kicked in again. Seriously, what is with my muscles? I am never sore until a few days after practice. I felt nothing all day Thursday. And nothing all day Friday, until about 9 PM. At that time some internal clock went off and my muscles began screaming at me, pleading for epsom salts and ibuprofen.

If this was Pee Wee's Playhouse the secret word would be duality. In case my witty banter isn't enough and you want to have some extra fun with this blog, you know what to do when you read that word.

So duality. I'm thinking of the balance of several two-fold things this week. First, the co-existence of slow and fast twitch muscle fibers. We all have both types within our muscles. The fast twitch fibers are utilized for more explosive movements like sprinting and the slow are more for endurance, like in marathoners. It's so fascinating to me as an Alexander Technique teacher to observe people at practice. Derby really requires both groups of muscle fibers, but it is so clear which type of movement a skater is more geared towards in her musculature. I'm certain that although we may be more predisposed towards one or the other in our muscle composition it is still possible through training to round ourselves out a bit. You can see it in the more veteran skaters. I observe in myself that I must be more slow twitch in my composition because the endurance stuff is way easier for me and I really need to put a fire under it for the things that require super quick, explosive movement.

The other instance of duality I continue to ponder this week is how my derby and momming lives affect each other. There are times that I feel like all this super hero training, endurance, full contact, and quick footwork on skates we do at practice is actually easier than what I deal with all day with the kiddos. Yesterday we were seeing how many burpees we could do in a minute. That's the exercise when you are standing, jump up in the air, drop to the floor and jump back into a squat thrust, hands on the floor, plank position. Repeat. While on skates, it's easiest if you do the whole thing on your toe stops. I did 18. And I LOVED it. Totally fun, and somehow strangely easier than lunchtime at my house. Still rushing on a derby high, I insisted on demonstrating this exercise to the hubster when I got home and the kids were having lunch. (in my kitchen and of course with skates) The kids thoroughly enjoyed the show,by her screams of approval I'm absolutely certain Oona is a future derby girl, and after 14 years of wedded bliss if he didn't already my husband now believes I am a lunatic.

I wonder about the levels of challenge in my life, why all this derby stuff often seems easier to me than my days with the kids. When I practically gouged my eyeball out on Thursday it was the toughness of derby that got me through that moment, remembering I was a warrior.  On more exhausted, negative days I tell myself my struggles with the kids are because I'm a terrible mom. After I talk myself down from that I think maybe it's because I'm only responsible for myself in derby, and not constantly needing to monitor whether the kids have constructed a ladder of mega blocks and are hanging from the ceiling fan or messing with the poor sainted dog's genitals. I love the space it gives me to be with myself on so many different levels, the room I have to think, sweat and experience. We skate really fast but somehow within that framework it's timeless and I have plenty of room to slow down and enjoy the ride.

Wednesday Jan 25 League Practice. All kinds of fun.

It just occurred to me that I hadn't posted anything about my last practice! I know you were all probably awaiting my rambling report with bated breath so huge apologies if I ruined anyone's week...  ; )

It was all kinds of fun.

I'm old and tired, the poor hubster is sick, and the wee ones with their ever-morphing super powers have really beat us down this weekend so my memory is a tad foggy in regards to what I had for breakfast today let alone what I did in the middle of last week. But a few drills stand out for me in the haze.

One super cool exercise was standing still, closing our eyes and allowing ourselves to lose our balance forwards, backwards and to the sides. The goal was to lean so far you fell off balance, then right yourself by getting to your derby stance. Totally fun. I felt like I was back in the karate dojo, doing my katas with my eyes closed. A kata is sequence of moves that mimics one side of a fight.  After much practice it's like a gorgeous dance, an amazing mix of fluid, controlled movements punctuated by sharp, clean strikes, kicks or jumps. At one point I opened my eyes and was totally surprised because I had rolled about 15 feet back, completely away from the group that was spread around the length of the track. I had no idea I was rolling I was so deeply into the exercise.

Another invigorating exercise we did was working with a partner, and counting for each other as we did 5 laps, alternating with them till  you both had skated 15 around the outside of the entire rink. Crazy, crazy bonkers fun. The rink is pretty big, so we were getting an awesome endurance work out. I am COO-COO for endurance drills. Seriously, I could just do them till I dropped, or they closed the rink, whatever came first. So much fun.  On my 15th lap I skated into the group of "counters," realized I hadn't considered that I needed to stop so I went to a knee and then to my side and slid baseball style for about 8 feet. Super fun.

We also skated our 25 in 5 on the actual derby track and my partner tells me I was at 23 laps at 4 minutes. Wooo hooo! I have no idea what my finish time was but man that was fun, especially right after skating 15 fast laps around the outside of the track. Talk about a derby high.

Like I said, I'm wiped this evening, the derby high has dissipated and my memory is foggy at best. So until next practice, that's all I have to report. Can't wait!!

First Vice Quads Practice January 24

Last night was the first Vice Quads team practice. There are two things on my mind:

1. Perhaps I shouldn't have been such an overachiever and run hard for several miles as well as do a million squats with weight the night prior to practice and that is why during my first loop of warmup I strained one of my hip flexors, completely putting the emergency brakes on the fun that was practice last night.

Basically I was skating with one leg. I couldn't lift my foot to crossover or push with my right leg without feeling like there was a 20 pound weight pulling on the muscles deep in my hip crease. My karate teacher used to call this "dead leg." By the end of practice my leg was numb, and my toes were tingling when I laid down to go to sleep. I loathe feeling limited in any way and I have caught myself actually pouting today as I ice it.

2. "Holy @$*% what just happened??!" This pretty much sums up my first experience of practice bouting. So crazy fast paced, an enormous amount of things to be aware of and balance. So many possibilites of tight, communicative teamwork, of strategy. On an uninjured leg I will be loving learning to play.

Speaking of learning, I have a huge amount to do. I consider myself a fairly decent skater, but it's an entirely new skill set needed to play and actually understand what the (*bleep*) is going on. I had a toddler freak-out filled day yesterday and I was frazzled coming into practice. In my exhaustion I caught my way too familiar habits of frustration and perfectionism when learning new skills kick in before I had a chance to inhibit them.

In Alexander Technique inhibition is a concept used to suspend your habitual reactions to stimuli, to allow yourself a chance to respond in a more efficient way. It is a tool that allows students to release themselves from unconscious, often inefficient habits of response to stimuli. We have so many habits of movement and thought, some of them serve us well and others create huge obstacles for us. For me personally this particular habit of harshly judging myself always presents itself. I am always way too hard on myself, and this is an extremely inefficient habit, a huge interference to my learning and enjoyment of experiences.

I'm 40 years old. I've been lucky to have enjoyed several past lives, each another facet of what makes me me today, chock full of learning and growth. In gradeschool I was a skater and dancer. In highschool I got hardcore into dance. I joined a dance company after a year of college. Then I had my own little dance company and collaborated with an amazing group of people for years in Pittsburgh. When I moved to NY I studied Karate and got to compete. I had the luxury of studying Alexander Technique for 3 years and getting certified to teach.I taught Alexander privately and at a yoga center and started a home furnishing business when living in New York. I became a mom twice. Throughout all of these vastly unique lives this habit is the underlying thread. It keeps presenting itself to me over and over. You'd think it would be about time I believed in its inefficiency and extinguished it as I begin the roller derby portion of my life.

Another concept from my past karate life that I think applies really nicely is that of "Beginner's Mind," which I have found extremely helpful in countering this demon of a habit. I will include a brief definition here:

Shoshin - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Maybe when I'm 50 if I still haven't learned I will get that kanji tattoed somewhere I can see...

Alas, the wee ones are rising. My system requires more coffee and my hip begs for more ice. Looking forward to practice tonight and allowing myself to work with this mindset.

Saturday, January 21

I know it sounds completely ridiculous but I am seriously never sore until at least a day and a half after working out. What's up with that?? I wasn't sore from Wednesday night's practice until Friday morning. Then I bravely decided to go run at the gym for 25 minutes that night. Never felt that decision until Saturday morning, as I woke, was having my coffee and getting ready for practice at 9:30. I still maintain that this phenomena is the result of some sort of super heroish genetic mutation involving extended adrenaline rush/derby high, but Alan, who is the person you'd totally want as your lifeline on "Who wants to be a Millionaire" and knows EVERYTHING always poo poos me so alas, my daydreams come to a screeching halt.

The point I am eventually getting to (I admit I am a meanderer both in speech and writing) is that Saturday morning was COLD. Arctic, windy cold. And I was freshly sore. But I slathered on the BenGay, took a couple ibuprofen, pulled on some awesome derby socks, got my ass in the car, turned on my beloved 80's/90's satellite radio station and got myself to practice. And as usual, I was so glad I did. I left two hours later energized.

We did crossover and footwork drills, skated 25 in 5, and did a ton of drills working on our T, plow, and tomahawk stops. It was a big turn out so we also skated in a super long pace line and the front person got to weave backwards through the line. The skaters in the line were also passing several sponges back and forth as we skated. So much fun. At one point I was passing the sponge forward and someone was weaving in front of me. They bumped my arm as they weaved and I dropped the sponge. In my giddiness I shouted out something about dropping the spirit stick, referencing one of my favorite movies (apologies for the annoying ads):

Since I'm referencing this movie I will indulge my need to include another favorite clip. Sparky's flourishes kind of remind me of the types of wacko things I end up doing when I'm practicing my tomahawks and therefore I believe this clip is somehow a pplicable to my blog...

And let this entry be deemed an entry of video sharing!! I got a few new pairs of socks last week and being the nerd I am had to try them on with my skates. This is a video of me showing off a pair of new socks, my girl enthralled with my skates and my husband egging me on to skate in very tight, toy filled, carpety quarters. Just an average pre-dinnertime at our house:

All joking aside, I'm marveling at our bodies and how they work, all the things we are capable of. The league is officially back in full swing, practicing 3 times a week. I am in heaven, feeling a bit guilty that I'm allowed to have this much fun, feel this vibrant, strong, focused and alive. It feels slightly selfish, having the absolute luxury of enjoying this experience so fully. I'm discovering how isolated and stagnant I allowed myself to fall in attending to my mom responsibilites. I am not in any way complaining, but these kiddos are totally consuming. It is extremely challenging to miss 2 bedtimes a week, knowing how fleeting these moments with the wee ones are. But when I'm out on the track, gear on and skating with these amazing, intelligent, powerful and funny women it recharges me, makes me remember who I am underneath the necessity of momming.  It's so incredibly easy to allow myself to fall into letting the kids and their needs define me. Somehow I had forgotten about my spirit, that spunky fire I possess. So I have decided that derby makes me better, happier, more tolerable, and most importantly a better mom and person.

First League Practice of the Season! January 18, 2012

Adrenaline pumping, heart pounding joyfully in my chest, breath expanding my whole torso, deep derby stance, arms swinging and fast crossovers with my feet as I sprint the track with about 15 or 20 other girls. Coasting on a few of the turns, bending deeply with my right leg out to the side just slightly, leaning to my left and feeling that amazing wind on me, like a dog with its head out the car window. I want to go faster, dig deeper. I'm feeling my feet through my skates in ecstatic conversation with the floor and my legs surprise me with their availability for more.

This is extraordinary. I am super energized and the happiest I've been in weeks. The closest experience to flight I can imagine. I'm deeply in touch with myself, blissfully free, unencumbered by my daily momming duties. Truly, this moment cannot get any better.

And then, the guys working on the sound system test it out by playing "Thriller." In its entirety.

OMG!!!!! I can't believe this is actually happening. It's a tiny bit of magic, just surreal enough to send me over the edge into Giddyland. A mythical place I had almost forgotten existed lately, being sick on and off for two months, and struggling to care for the wee ones.

If I haven't mentioned it already, music is essential to my being. I experience it and the vibrations it offers with my whole. Even if I am perfectly still it's as if my cells are dancing. From as young as I can remember there are songs that mark moments in time.  I hear them and the details of that time come back to me, fill my mind, my heart, my very skin.

I laugh like a maniac, skate even harder, exit the track, and in true, glorious nerd form proceed to perform the zombie dance from said song as I loop with my group and wait for the next round of the Pyramid Drill.

Ah, the Pyramid Drill. Fun fun fun fun fun. Did I say fun?? We were broken into two groups of about 15 or 20 skaters. This is an endurance drill, you are supposed to alternate groups and sprint a series of 1,3,5 and 7 laps and then 5,3,and 1 laps. Works out to 25 laps total, broken up into the intervals I mentioned and with a few minutes break in between as you wait for the other group to finish. Extra fun with images of MJ, his sweet leather jacket, red capri pants and the boogying living dead in my head.

I feel the need to share that this experience was especially meaningful to me on a very personal level. My girlfriend that died last month organized a "Thriller" party a few years back with the goal of all of us learning the choreography and dancing it together in her tiny NY living room. It was one of her favs. I miss her so much, and this combined with the rush of skating totally made my day. I can just hear her, eyes twinkling and going bonkers clapping and laughing about this and the strange random existence of the two.

Besides the awesome Pyramid Drill we also worked on suicides. The coach set up 2 cones at different distances across the rink from the wall where we would start. The deal was we would start on our stomachs or backs on the floor, pop up, sprint to the first cone and do a one knee fall, get up, sprint back to the wall we started at, tomahawk stop, (i will explain what this stop is in the next paragraph) sprint back out to the second cone and do a one knee fall, sprint back to the wall, tomahawk stop, then sprint all the way across to the opposite wall, one knee fall and sprint back to the original wall and tomahawk. We repeated this whole drill minus the falls, only with tomahawk stops.

I missed the practice where we learned the tomahawk stop. So needless to say, this drill was a little rough around the edges for me. Instead of flipping backwards and stopping on my toe stops I kept doing these wacky spread eagle Nancy Kerrigan-ish spins. Or perhaps more akin to Snoopy in the Charlie Brown Christmas special. Which I have to say were kind of purdy, but utterly useless.

I must confess, after plundering through the suicide drill, and vowing to make amends my new all-time favorite thing is the tomahawk stop. I want to keep doing them over and over I am so addicted. It's one of the more bad ass derby moves if you ask me and if I had known about them they would have been enough for me to want to skate derby sooner than now.

What you do is turn backwards while skating and then slam both toe stops down to stop. It's a very quick and abrupt stop, but sometimes you slide backwards just a little as well. You need to have one leg kind of in front a bit and really need to bend your knees. This stop is pretty handy if you need to take off quickly again because you already have your toe stops down and are ready to run.

I realized last night the total secret for me is to let my head and shoulders whip super fast similar to spotting in dance. That way you are already looking in the opposite direction and not spending too much time in the turning backwards transition. Another important detail I "stumbled" upon (hee hee...LITERALLY) in my learning process was never, ever for any reason to look down at the floor. Once I figured that out I got it. It was the end of practice and one of my teammates and I had an insane amount of fun skating behind each other, hip whipping off the front person so we could pick up more speed and then turning to tomahawk and putting on a ridiculously campy show of our most threatening derby faces and arm gestures.

Gosh I love this. I just can't imagine my life without it. I am so glad I had the balls to go for it last September. I will leave you with a parting video for your enjoyment.