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.