Today some of us are traveling five hours to a city that has a banked track team. We are going to practice skating on their track. This is the first time I have skated with the group since my near-quit last week, and my second time ever on a banked track. I'm nervous, but super stoked.
After an extremely long drive and se time spent lost, I meet the other girls at the warehouse. The place has no air, no power, and no bathrooms. Their banked track barely fits inside the room. It is beautiful. Stunning.
It is me and three other girls from my league. As we are getting our gear together, a handful of girls from a neighboring league arrive. We are all signing waivers and putting on our skates and pads when I hear Kathump-thump. Kathump-thump. I look up and see Val hurtling around the bank. While we were piddling around, she had suited up and bolted to the track. Angie was not far behind. Val and Angie used to skate banked track and they miss it terribly. They are positively gleeful a they shoot around the track. Throughout the day I watch them giggle and play like kids in a playground.
I finish putting on all my gear. My swollen elbow aches under the elbow pad, but that's okay. It feels great to have my skates on again. I find the low point and climb very awkwardly onto the track. Okay. Here I am, up at the top. I drop to my knees and slide to the bottom. Okay. Here I am, down at the bottom. Hmmmm.
Val skates up and reminds me how to get started. I set one skate on the track, leaving the other on the floor, and skate. After I'm going along at a reasonable clip, I am to pick my lower foot up and put it in the track.
Bam! I hit the floor.
It's not that the maneuver is difficult. In fact, it's so not difficult that it is called the 'easy on.' It's just that it is very difficult to convince your foot that it is perfectly safe and natural to leave a stable flat surface, raise up, and land on a bouncy inclined surface while rolling forward. You roll along, one foot up and the other down. All is good, and just as you are about to transition up fully onto the track something in your head yells,"Wait, wait! I'm not ready!" This causes sort of a physical stutter followed by a crash. At least the track is soft and bouncy. All that gets hurt in the fall is my pride.
I have better luck my second try. I get both skates on the track. Now the challenge is getting up to the top of the track instead of rolling right back off the bottom again. I keep practicing. Over the next couple of hours I do a lot of falling, a lot of resting, and some skating, too.
I still have quite a few challenges. I have a difficult time skating up the track. I'm not sure how that is supposed to work - if I'm supposed to quick feet up, or cut that direction. I wind up pushing really hard with my lower foot, which is taxing on my inside leg. This is only fair, however, as my outside hip is taking a beating from pulling myself up onto the track. Another challenge is my fear of the bottom rail. I know you can skate right over it on and off the track, but whenever I approach it I drop to my knees in fear of tripping and planting my face. My most troubling challenge is that when I'm on the bank, my feet feel like they want to slip sideways inside my skates. I don't know if I need to stiffen my ankles, tighten my laces, or just get used to the feeling. All I know is that when I pick my foot up and put it back down, all my weight lands on the side of my foot. I roll my ankle more than a couple of times, which is never good.
By the time I'm ready to go, I can skate twice around the track before losing it. I can start at the bottom and make it ALMOST up to the top of the track but not quite. I can skate off the bottom of the track without freaking out and making myself fall. When it comes time to take pictures, I'm able to stand at the top of the track without clinging to the top rail for dear life. All in all it is a successful day.
I do manage, not once but twice, to smash my sore elbow on the bottom rail. Even through the pad, the pain is enough to make me see stars for a second. How do I always find that bottom rail when I fall? It's the only part of the banked track that is hard.
It's been a fun day, but I must leave. The other girls are staying the night and skating tomorrow. I'm envious of them. I'm not just jealous that they will skate tomorrow. I envy their camaraderie. The three of them drove up in the same car. They will no doubt go out tonight and will drive back tomorrow. I would have loved to have that time to get to know some of the other girls. I'd love to build that kind of deep friendship for which derby is known, to get goofy and crazy with like minded girls. It's my nature to be reserved with people for a while after meeting them. Any time I join a new group, it is common for me to feel more like a spectator than like a member until I start to feel comfortable. Now I'm tired of feeling like that with my Derby team. Had I road tripped with the girls, would that have gotten me over that hump? Would I have been able to push through my shyness and actually feel like I belong? Possibly. That is all moot, though. I already miss my kids something fierce. Had I stayed the night away from home, I would just have been miserable with missing them and with guilt for leaving them for so long. So today I leave early enough to pick the kids up tonight. I will later look at the girls' Facebook status updates with a certain amount of longing. That's okay, though, because tonight I'll squeeze my boys and tuck them into bed.
Today my goals were to go more than once around the track, to be able to stand on it without rolling off, and to be able to skate off the track. Next time I'm on the bank, my goal is to master it. That will mean being able to maneuver up and down the track, to skate indefinitely on it at a good speed, to be able to atop, start, fall, and get up, and to be able to take and five some hits. I'm looking forward to it!
Showing posts with label banked track. Show all posts
Showing posts with label banked track. Show all posts
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Final Countdown to Minimum Skills - 3 Days
My plans to run drills in the garage before the kids wake up are thwarted when one of the kids wakes up a SIX freakin A.M.! Poor guy. I don't think he feels well.
It's probably for the best. Sure, my weaves could use some work, but overall I feel okay about my basic skills. I worked a lot of things out in Wednesday's practice, and feeling a lot more confident overall. My ability to pass or fail most of the test will depend on the expectations. If I need to do passable knee drops, hits and whips, I'll be fine. If I need to do expert knee drops, hard hits, and powerful whips, I'm out of luck. Either way, an hour in the garage isn't going to help me.
The huge variable for me is the 25 laps. I am certain that I can do more than 17 laps in 5 minutes, but I don't know how close I can get to 25. I have some strategies in place now. Thanks to my team mates, I now know the sweet spot in the track. I can't exactly do crossovers, but I can kind of step around the corners in a way that saves a LOT of wear and tear on my left leg. I don't know if these strategies will improve my speed, but I believe they must improve my stamina since I no longer feel my legs are going to fall off after five laps. That has to help. Not feeling like you're losing your legs can only be a good thing.
It does seem that my time between now and the test is best spent improving my endurance. I replace garage time with treadmill time. In the morning and the evening, I hit the treadmill for 30 (25) minutes. I alternate walking at a good clip with running (jogging) for two (one and a half) minutes at a time.
I feel good.
It's probably for the best. Sure, my weaves could use some work, but overall I feel okay about my basic skills. I worked a lot of things out in Wednesday's practice, and feeling a lot more confident overall. My ability to pass or fail most of the test will depend on the expectations. If I need to do passable knee drops, hits and whips, I'll be fine. If I need to do expert knee drops, hard hits, and powerful whips, I'm out of luck. Either way, an hour in the garage isn't going to help me.
The huge variable for me is the 25 laps. I am certain that I can do more than 17 laps in 5 minutes, but I don't know how close I can get to 25. I have some strategies in place now. Thanks to my team mates, I now know the sweet spot in the track. I can't exactly do crossovers, but I can kind of step around the corners in a way that saves a LOT of wear and tear on my left leg. I don't know if these strategies will improve my speed, but I believe they must improve my stamina since I no longer feel my legs are going to fall off after five laps. That has to help. Not feeling like you're losing your legs can only be a good thing.
It does seem that my time between now and the test is best spent improving my endurance. I replace garage time with treadmill time. In the morning and the evening, I hit the treadmill for 30 (25) minutes. I alternate walking at a good clip with running (jogging) for two (one and a half) minutes at a time.
I feel good.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Banked Track Watchin'
I'm selling T-shirts and such, and I am pleasantly surprised to learn the merch area is within view of the track! I can watch the bout. This is the first bout I've been to in years. It smells exactly how I remember a bout smelling. As promised, the ladies skate fast and turn left. They skate really fast. Really super fast. It's wonderful to be back.
The fun is more than just the game itself. It's the crowd. Roller Derby is a grass roots sport. Everybody involved in Derby are here because we love it. The same is true of the fans. Everyone here either loves the sport, lives the sport, or loves someone who lives the sport. Some women here don full roller girl gear complete with fishnet stockings and unusual hair color. Some families populate the stands, children sitting on parents' shoulders. Some fans bear signs or shirts supporting their favorite players. Other people are here for the first time, asking questions about the rules of the game. There is even one giggling bachelorette party here. They have to bring in more bleachers to accommodate all the spectators.
The energy is electric.
The air of camaraderie and support is amplified by the presence of the banked track. Banked track leagues are more expensive and complicated to maintain than flat track leagues. There are a lot fewer of us around. In fact there are only a handful of banked leagues in the country. Everyone understands that support for any team is support for banked track as a whole, so even though we are rivals on the track, sisterhood shines through off the track. Most of the people coming to talk to us and buy merchandise are fans of and players from the other team. I'm enjoying meeting all these women.
Then Harmony gets hurt.
I don't see it, but I hear the screams.
She had been on the inside (lower part) of the track and there was a dogpile. Her foot turned around backwards and her ankle snapped. Most of the screams were from the teammates who saw it happen. Play stops for a while as the paramedics work on her.
Harmony is a rock star.
She is awake and talking to people as she is carried to the ambulance. She doesn't want anyone to worry. Steph goes with her to the hospital, and play resumes. Everyone is a bit shaken.
Later at the after party we learn she is going in for surgery so they can put all kinds of screws and pins in her leg. Both bones are broken through. Steph reports that Harmony is still a rock star. The only tears she sheds are when the doctors tell her how long it will be before she can skate again.
Wow.
Would I be that dedicated? If I were to sustain a major injury like that, would I be aching to return to the track? As it is, Harmony's injury has given me pause. She could've lost the use of her foot permanently. I knew, of course, that this is a full contact sport with possibility of injury, but seeing something like this in person is rather terrifying. I take care of two kids. Can I risk my health for this?
Proving he always knows me best, my husband asks me if the day's events were making me think of quitting. He doesn't say much, but let's me talk it out. I think on it. I sleep on it. I come to a conclusion.
I got a chipped tooth and a concussion in a car wreck. My mother in law broke both elbows riding a bicycle. My husband had a shoulder reconstructed due to football. My mom got frostbite waiting for the school bus. Anything you do has risk of injury.
Meanwhile, my blood pressure is up, I'm obese, and I am flirting with diabetes. I am facing serious health risks due to a sedentary lifestyle. I have found an activity that I love. I can't afford to let this go.
I'm in.
The fun is more than just the game itself. It's the crowd. Roller Derby is a grass roots sport. Everybody involved in Derby are here because we love it. The same is true of the fans. Everyone here either loves the sport, lives the sport, or loves someone who lives the sport. Some women here don full roller girl gear complete with fishnet stockings and unusual hair color. Some families populate the stands, children sitting on parents' shoulders. Some fans bear signs or shirts supporting their favorite players. Other people are here for the first time, asking questions about the rules of the game. There is even one giggling bachelorette party here. They have to bring in more bleachers to accommodate all the spectators.
The energy is electric.
The air of camaraderie and support is amplified by the presence of the banked track. Banked track leagues are more expensive and complicated to maintain than flat track leagues. There are a lot fewer of us around. In fact there are only a handful of banked leagues in the country. Everyone understands that support for any team is support for banked track as a whole, so even though we are rivals on the track, sisterhood shines through off the track. Most of the people coming to talk to us and buy merchandise are fans of and players from the other team. I'm enjoying meeting all these women.
Then Harmony gets hurt.
I don't see it, but I hear the screams.
She had been on the inside (lower part) of the track and there was a dogpile. Her foot turned around backwards and her ankle snapped. Most of the screams were from the teammates who saw it happen. Play stops for a while as the paramedics work on her.
Harmony is a rock star.
She is awake and talking to people as she is carried to the ambulance. She doesn't want anyone to worry. Steph goes with her to the hospital, and play resumes. Everyone is a bit shaken.
Later at the after party we learn she is going in for surgery so they can put all kinds of screws and pins in her leg. Both bones are broken through. Steph reports that Harmony is still a rock star. The only tears she sheds are when the doctors tell her how long it will be before she can skate again.
Wow.
Would I be that dedicated? If I were to sustain a major injury like that, would I be aching to return to the track? As it is, Harmony's injury has given me pause. She could've lost the use of her foot permanently. I knew, of course, that this is a full contact sport with possibility of injury, but seeing something like this in person is rather terrifying. I take care of two kids. Can I risk my health for this?
Proving he always knows me best, my husband asks me if the day's events were making me think of quitting. He doesn't say much, but let's me talk it out. I think on it. I sleep on it. I come to a conclusion.
I got a chipped tooth and a concussion in a car wreck. My mother in law broke both elbows riding a bicycle. My husband had a shoulder reconstructed due to football. My mom got frostbite waiting for the school bus. Anything you do has risk of injury.
Meanwhile, my blood pressure is up, I'm obese, and I am flirting with diabetes. I am facing serious health risks due to a sedentary lifestyle. I have found an activity that I love. I can't afford to let this go.
I'm in.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Banked Track Ballin'
Today I travel to my first bout with my new team.
I'm not playing, obviously. Melinda and I are selling merchandise. Luckily, the merch tables are located so we can clearly see the bout. I'm super excited to be contributing to the team that has taken in my slow ass, and am looking forward to socializing post-bout.
Here's the part where we talk about the banked track. Most modern derby leagues are flat track. My team is a banked track team. Currently, however, due to space requirements, we don't have a place to set up our track. We currently practice on a flat track and most of our bouts are flat track. It is a big deal when we get to play a banked track team.
Here's the awesomeness. Before the bout, Melinda and I are able to skate on the banked track for a while!!!
It's kind of terrifying. The bank is so much steeper win you're on it than when you're just watching. Merely climbing onto the track requires a couple of deep breaths and a steadying of nerves. From the ground, I throw a knee up onto the track and pull myself up. I stand.
Now what?
I'm standing on wheels at the top of what is now a crazy steep slope. I grip the railing. My knuckles whiten and I forget to breathe for a minute. Someone makes an extremely helpful suggestion: to get to the bottom, drop to my knees and slide down on my kneepads. Awesome!
Relief. I can relax.
Now what?
In order to actually skate on the bank, I'll have to somehow get back up to the top and start from there. Okay deep breath. Up on the toe stops. Bend my knees. Don't topple over backwards. Hold my breath. Run up the track on my toe stops until I can stretch out and reach the guard rail. Pull myself up from there.
Hmmmm. Now I'm back where I started. I'm at the top of the bank gripping the rail for dear life.
There's nothing to it but to do it. I let go and try to propel myself forward faster than gravity can pull me downward. I get a few feet before I hit the floor and slide to the bottom.
Okay. Try it again. And again. And again. I fall more times than I can count.
It. Is. AWESOME. I love it.
I am going to make it all the way around the track if I have to do it five feet at a time. That is about how it happens. Various teammates come by to offer support, tips and hints. I hope I'm not too much in their way. Eventually their warm ups take a more serious turn and I clear the track for them. I watch in awe as they run drills that involve bouncing off the guardrail, getting off an back on the track, etc. I've never watched banked track from inside the track before. It is quite something to see. I am exhilarated.
The ladies take a break. The track is free for me to keep trying. Up the track, skate, slide down. I'm getting better! The amount of distance I can skate between falls keeps increasing. I never make it all the way around, but I do make it over halfway! I go the length of a straightaway, down the curve, and back up the next straightaway before I lose momentum and slide down. Whee!
Jamie has hung around to supervise Melinda and I. We can't really be skating by ourselves. I'm sure she'd rather be getting something to eat, and I am grateful to her. I'm even more grateful when she suggests I hold onto her hips while she takes me around the track. Up, down, and around she pulls me around the track twice at what feels like a breathtaking speed to me.
Thanks Jamie!
I would live to keep going, but recognize I am holding her up. I reluctantly remove my skates and gear, go get some dinner, and prepare to sell T-shirts. It is the most fun day!
Oh, and there's also a bout and an after party!
I'm not playing, obviously. Melinda and I are selling merchandise. Luckily, the merch tables are located so we can clearly see the bout. I'm super excited to be contributing to the team that has taken in my slow ass, and am looking forward to socializing post-bout.
Here's the part where we talk about the banked track. Most modern derby leagues are flat track. My team is a banked track team. Currently, however, due to space requirements, we don't have a place to set up our track. We currently practice on a flat track and most of our bouts are flat track. It is a big deal when we get to play a banked track team.
Here's the awesomeness. Before the bout, Melinda and I are able to skate on the banked track for a while!!!
It's kind of terrifying. The bank is so much steeper win you're on it than when you're just watching. Merely climbing onto the track requires a couple of deep breaths and a steadying of nerves. From the ground, I throw a knee up onto the track and pull myself up. I stand.
Now what?
I'm standing on wheels at the top of what is now a crazy steep slope. I grip the railing. My knuckles whiten and I forget to breathe for a minute. Someone makes an extremely helpful suggestion: to get to the bottom, drop to my knees and slide down on my kneepads. Awesome!
Relief. I can relax.
Now what?
In order to actually skate on the bank, I'll have to somehow get back up to the top and start from there. Okay deep breath. Up on the toe stops. Bend my knees. Don't topple over backwards. Hold my breath. Run up the track on my toe stops until I can stretch out and reach the guard rail. Pull myself up from there.
Hmmmm. Now I'm back where I started. I'm at the top of the bank gripping the rail for dear life.
There's nothing to it but to do it. I let go and try to propel myself forward faster than gravity can pull me downward. I get a few feet before I hit the floor and slide to the bottom.
Okay. Try it again. And again. And again. I fall more times than I can count.
It. Is. AWESOME. I love it.
I am going to make it all the way around the track if I have to do it five feet at a time. That is about how it happens. Various teammates come by to offer support, tips and hints. I hope I'm not too much in their way. Eventually their warm ups take a more serious turn and I clear the track for them. I watch in awe as they run drills that involve bouncing off the guardrail, getting off an back on the track, etc. I've never watched banked track from inside the track before. It is quite something to see. I am exhilarated.
The ladies take a break. The track is free for me to keep trying. Up the track, skate, slide down. I'm getting better! The amount of distance I can skate between falls keeps increasing. I never make it all the way around, but I do make it over halfway! I go the length of a straightaway, down the curve, and back up the next straightaway before I lose momentum and slide down. Whee!
Jamie has hung around to supervise Melinda and I. We can't really be skating by ourselves. I'm sure she'd rather be getting something to eat, and I am grateful to her. I'm even more grateful when she suggests I hold onto her hips while she takes me around the track. Up, down, and around she pulls me around the track twice at what feels like a breathtaking speed to me.
Thanks Jamie!
I would live to keep going, but recognize I am holding her up. I reluctantly remove my skates and gear, go get some dinner, and prepare to sell T-shirts. It is the most fun day!
Oh, and there's also a bout and an after party!
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Fresh Meat Anyone?
"Are you okay to try some skating?" This is the coach, Vera.
"Sure thing. That's why I'm here!" This is me, trying to sound braver than I feel.
I am at my first practice with my local roller derby league. I fell in love with roller derby six years ago at a Derby Dolls bout, and have spent all this time building my courage (and losing a few pounds.) Now at long last I find myself sitting on an unstable church pew in a big warehouse in a sketchy part of town. Before me the track is painted on the floor, and girls are starting to make their way onto it. I personally have just spent an unreasonable amount of time wrestling my way into all the protective gear and finally have strapped roller skates onto my feet. Even sitting, I feel awkward.
Here's the thing: I can't skate. I could when I was a kid, but not very well. I never even developed the control and maneuverability required to do the Hokey Pokey that was a staple at my local rink growing up. I have not worn skates since Jr. High. Hoping to improve my skating abilities, I have spent the past week trying to skate in my driveway, only to learn that age and weight are not friends of the roller skate. I can barely stay up.
Yet here I sit, butterflies in my stomach, telling this person that I'm ready to hit the track. I stand, wobble, and remain standing! All around me ladies glide effortlessly along the track, their skates making very impressive ripping noises as they come to sharp stops. That will be me someday. Now I inch my way to the track, already sweating, every muscle tense.
BAM!!!! I fall. Shit. There's a line of tape around the edge of the track. I tripped over it.
"We all do that. Don't worry about it.". I'm grateful to Vera for this kindness.
She explains to me about falling forward onto your kneepads whenever possible, about keeping your fingers off the floor, and about "Derby Stance."
Derby Stance: a special punishment brought forth from hell onto new skaters.
Now I start to skate. Vera skates backwards in front of me, her eyes sharp as she watches me. I'm doing it! This is so exhilarating! I'm skating! On a derby track! I'm slow and I'm shaky but I'm here and I'm doing it! I say something to Vera and she tells me how great it is I can look at her while skating. Yay!
Now we're on lap three and I fall again. I did not trip this time. This time, I fell because my legs are burning and trembling and they just collapse. Vera watches as I struggle back up onto my skates and go again. I fall again. I keep falling. Over and over I fall, and each time I get up it weakens my legs further. How long have we been doing this? Practice is two hours long. I keep thinking she will tell me that's enough-that we're done for the day. She doesn't, so I don't stop. I just keep pushing. My lungs burn as I gulp for air. My legs have passed pain and have simply given up. I can't feel my feet. I am certain I am going to vomit. Finally, after hours and hours, she calls a stop to the laps. Everyone gathers in the center of the track.
Thank god. It must be cool down time.
Vera skates to the center, "Now if we're all warmed up lets get some stretches and then we'll start drills."
Excuse me?
Okay don't panic. You're obviously spent. Surely they will just have you watch the rest of practice.
Nope.
I'm the only new girl tonight, so it's just Vera and me off to the side while the other ladies hit the track. Under her supervision, I practice falls. I had thought it would be difficult to make myself fall on purpose; it just seems unnatural. It turns out that's the easy part. It is getting up over and over again that quickly becomes excruciating. Imagine doing linges over and over, on skates. I skate back and forth, dropping to one knee, then to the other, then to both. Each time I pull myself back up onto my skates my thighs protest more loudly.
We finish falls and start practicing stops. I try the Plow Stop. I can't get it to work. I try the T-Stop, which works in the sense that every time I attempt it I fall, which then causes me to stop. Of course then I have to get up again = more agony.
Back and forth. Over and over. Intentional falls, failed stops and unintentional falls. I'm sure my insides are bleeding. There are no clocks in here. How long have we been doing this? It seems I have always been here. Finally Vera calls everyone to the center again. It's over. Technically, I survived. Everyone skates back to the pews to de-gear. I don't think i can make it that far. More than anything I just want to drop to the floor where I am where I am, remove my now impossibly heavy skates, and WALK to the pews. My pride will not allow it. Leaving my skates on, I do an awkward skating version of hobbling back to where my shoes are. Did I leave my water bottle behind? Too late now. I absolutely can't go back for it.
As I remove my soaked pads, trembling and spent, several of the girls stop by to offer encouragement and ask how I feel.
"You did great!"
"You fell a lot less than I did my first day."
"Will we see you next time?"
I breathlessly thank everyone as I finish packing up my stuff. I listen as they talk amongst themselves about this and that. Hauling my bag onto my shoulder, I wave goodbye to all. I can barely lift my legs to get into my car. I blast the air conditioner. It feels superb on my still overheated skin. I've never been so exhausted.
I can't wait for next practice.
"Sure thing. That's why I'm here!" This is me, trying to sound braver than I feel.
I am at my first practice with my local roller derby league. I fell in love with roller derby six years ago at a Derby Dolls bout, and have spent all this time building my courage (and losing a few pounds.) Now at long last I find myself sitting on an unstable church pew in a big warehouse in a sketchy part of town. Before me the track is painted on the floor, and girls are starting to make their way onto it. I personally have just spent an unreasonable amount of time wrestling my way into all the protective gear and finally have strapped roller skates onto my feet. Even sitting, I feel awkward.
Here's the thing: I can't skate. I could when I was a kid, but not very well. I never even developed the control and maneuverability required to do the Hokey Pokey that was a staple at my local rink growing up. I have not worn skates since Jr. High. Hoping to improve my skating abilities, I have spent the past week trying to skate in my driveway, only to learn that age and weight are not friends of the roller skate. I can barely stay up.
Yet here I sit, butterflies in my stomach, telling this person that I'm ready to hit the track. I stand, wobble, and remain standing! All around me ladies glide effortlessly along the track, their skates making very impressive ripping noises as they come to sharp stops. That will be me someday. Now I inch my way to the track, already sweating, every muscle tense.
BAM!!!! I fall. Shit. There's a line of tape around the edge of the track. I tripped over it.
"We all do that. Don't worry about it.". I'm grateful to Vera for this kindness.
She explains to me about falling forward onto your kneepads whenever possible, about keeping your fingers off the floor, and about "Derby Stance."
Derby Stance: a special punishment brought forth from hell onto new skaters.
Now I start to skate. Vera skates backwards in front of me, her eyes sharp as she watches me. I'm doing it! This is so exhilarating! I'm skating! On a derby track! I'm slow and I'm shaky but I'm here and I'm doing it! I say something to Vera and she tells me how great it is I can look at her while skating. Yay!
Now we're on lap three and I fall again. I did not trip this time. This time, I fell because my legs are burning and trembling and they just collapse. Vera watches as I struggle back up onto my skates and go again. I fall again. I keep falling. Over and over I fall, and each time I get up it weakens my legs further. How long have we been doing this? Practice is two hours long. I keep thinking she will tell me that's enough-that we're done for the day. She doesn't, so I don't stop. I just keep pushing. My lungs burn as I gulp for air. My legs have passed pain and have simply given up. I can't feel my feet. I am certain I am going to vomit. Finally, after hours and hours, she calls a stop to the laps. Everyone gathers in the center of the track.
Thank god. It must be cool down time.
Vera skates to the center, "Now if we're all warmed up lets get some stretches and then we'll start drills."
Excuse me?
Okay don't panic. You're obviously spent. Surely they will just have you watch the rest of practice.
Nope.
I'm the only new girl tonight, so it's just Vera and me off to the side while the other ladies hit the track. Under her supervision, I practice falls. I had thought it would be difficult to make myself fall on purpose; it just seems unnatural. It turns out that's the easy part. It is getting up over and over again that quickly becomes excruciating. Imagine doing linges over and over, on skates. I skate back and forth, dropping to one knee, then to the other, then to both. Each time I pull myself back up onto my skates my thighs protest more loudly.
We finish falls and start practicing stops. I try the Plow Stop. I can't get it to work. I try the T-Stop, which works in the sense that every time I attempt it I fall, which then causes me to stop. Of course then I have to get up again = more agony.
Back and forth. Over and over. Intentional falls, failed stops and unintentional falls. I'm sure my insides are bleeding. There are no clocks in here. How long have we been doing this? It seems I have always been here. Finally Vera calls everyone to the center again. It's over. Technically, I survived. Everyone skates back to the pews to de-gear. I don't think i can make it that far. More than anything I just want to drop to the floor where I am where I am, remove my now impossibly heavy skates, and WALK to the pews. My pride will not allow it. Leaving my skates on, I do an awkward skating version of hobbling back to where my shoes are. Did I leave my water bottle behind? Too late now. I absolutely can't go back for it.
As I remove my soaked pads, trembling and spent, several of the girls stop by to offer encouragement and ask how I feel.
"You did great!"
"You fell a lot less than I did my first day."
"Will we see you next time?"
I breathlessly thank everyone as I finish packing up my stuff. I listen as they talk amongst themselves about this and that. Hauling my bag onto my shoulder, I wave goodbye to all. I can barely lift my legs to get into my car. I blast the air conditioner. It feels superb on my still overheated skin. I've never been so exhausted.
I can't wait for next practice.
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