The Ecstasy and then the Agony of DeButt

The other day, I remembered something: I Fucking Love Skating!

For this reason today I get up in the morning to skate outside.

Don't laugh: I make it ALL THE WAY AROUND MY BLOCK! This is about 3/4 of a mile, right around 12-13 laps I believe.

For outdoor skating, this is a ginormous victory for me. Outdoor skating is scary and hard. Outdoors has cracks and rocks that can land you on your face. Outdoors has up hills and downhills and dips. Outdoors has an unpleasant thu-thu-thu-thu feeling as you roll. My outdoor wheels, soft to absorb said cracks and rocks, require extra effort and pushing to keep rolling. My previous outdoor skating endeavors lasted about five minutes each. Today is about a 400% improvement.

When I set out, I tell myself that I will head out as if I'm going around the block. I will get at least around the corner. I will go until I cannot. I will not worry about going too far and not being able to get back. At any time, if I fall or get too tired or sore, I can take my skates off and walk back.

I get around the corner, and am still going. There is a downhill stretch ahead of me. Now, downhill on skates isn't like downhill on a bike. You have to keep your knees bent in an isometric exercise. You have to steer around obstacles. If you're me, you have to panic about the possibility of going too fast and not being able to stop.  It aches, and it often makes my toes numb.

I decide to go ahead and take the downhill until it levels out - about halfway down the block. Then I can stop if I need to.

I get to the level portion, shins and thighs burning. I think I can take the next downhill that will take me to the end of the block. Then I can stop.

I reach the bottom. You know what? I can go ahead and skate the short side of the block. When I turn the corner there will be an uphill. I can stop there.

I reach the hill. I'm aching and wobbly, but I can at least start up the hill. I can stop if it's too hard.

Uphill is hard. It hurts my butt, not just the injury but the muscles as well. I am managing it, though. It's not as scary as I thought it would be. I can make it past the pond. Then I can stop.

I'm past the pond. I can keep going. I'll go past the playground.

Once I'm past the playground, I stumble and decide to land and take a minute. I rest on my knees and survey the path ahead. It might be time to stop. It's uphill the entire way back to my house. I'm falling from weak legs. I'm tense all over from worrying about tripping on a pebble. You know what, though? I can go one more house.

I make it the rest of the way up the street one mailbox at a time. At each house I think, I'll stop after the next one. Okay.  I can stop after the NEXT one.  Finally I reach my neighbor's house. I think it is time to stop. I'm really struggling.

How can I stop so close to the end? Hubby will give me a hard time, and rightfully so. I can make it. I can do it. I skate the final few feet to my house and down my driveway.

That. Was. Awesome. Woooohoooo!  I need to do this EVERY MORNING.

Later in the day I lay curled up on my side on the sofa, crying.  The pain from my injured tailbone is excruciating.  It's so much worse than it has been so far.  I don't know if I damaged my tailbone more, or if the increased activity stimulated the nerves.  I won't be skating tomorrow morning.

Pep Talks and Tailbones

Today I quit again.

Before I even leave for practice, I'm feeling crummy. I've been feeling melancholy overall, and it affects my feelings about Derby. My kids don't feel well. My husband doesn't feel well.  They don't want me to go. I don't want to leave them. Why am I leaving them? I'm not going to work or to the grocery store or even to the hairdresser. I'm leaving my kids and husband at home so I can go roller skate. Poorly. I weep from guilt as I pull my car out of the driveway.

Practice starts as it always does. I get my gear on and start skating. Before my skates hit the track I already feel stressed, worrying about what this practice will bring. I know the other new girl is advanced enough that she practices with the rest of the team. This means one of two things will happen to me. I might be thrown in to the regular practice with her and the vets. I might be paired up with her to run 'new girl' drills that are way above my skillset. I don't know which will be worse. Either way I'm looking at two hours of physical and mental misery as I try to keep up, a task I'm doomed to fail.  Warm up starts and the first drill is one where we get into groups of four, sprint, stop, do quick feet back and forth, and sprint again. I hate that drill. I can't do it. I don't want to be here. I'm going home.

I pack up my gear. Thankfully, I think nobody notices.

Crap. I left my ice cup full of bandanas over by the track. If I go back for it, someone might see me, and it's obvious I'm leaving because I'm already off skates.  I can't leave it behind.  I run over to get it, run back to my gear, grab it and head toward the door. Now they saw me.

My plans to leave quietly slip down the drain. Vera, the coach, has seen me and rushes to stop me on my way out the door.

She asks why I'm leaving. For a moment my mind races to find a lie. I open my mouth to say there's an emergency at home. Instead, I blurt out the truth. I'm frustrated and I suck at this and I'm exhausted. I want to take a couple of months off.

She tells me not to do that. She reminds me of how far I've come. She tells me not to fool myself. I won't spend the next months exercising and skating. I will lose all the progress I have made, and may never come back. It is not so much what she says that matters as it is the fact that she is saying it. I'm surprised at the effort she is putting in to keep me.  I want to be clear - Val has never been anything but nice and encouraging toward me. She is, however, one of the people I feel has to be rolling her eyes mentally as she watches me struggle every practice. I really did expect her to give me an, "If that's what you think is best. . . Hope to see you back here soon." She doesn't do that though. She works hard to get me to stay. I stay. I suit back up.  It's crazy embarrassing to come back to the track but I do it.

I take it easy through practice. My pride has been stripped. I no longer care if people think I'm slacking off. I know how far I can push myself and I need this to be fun again. I join in some drills and spend some time just doing laps. Truth be told, I take it a little too easy. I could push harder. I need this, though. I need to enjoy it.  As I skate, I remember something I'd forgotten. It's fun. It's fun to skate and it's fun to try to learn something new. It's fun to watch your friends learn something new. When I'm not struggling and fighting and crying just to keep going or to try and keep up, I have physical room to enjoy myself. I have emotional room to enjoy others' endeavors instead of just thinking how I'll never be able to do that. For the first time in a long time (not counting the banked track practice) I'm having a blast. I missed this.

With a half an hour left of practice, my enjoyment literally crashes to a halt. We are practicing stops that you do when skating backward. This is fun, and I appear to be getting the hang of some of it. The challenge for me is that skating backwards stresses muscles that are not used to being stressed. I very quickly feel the effects. The other girls are skating forward, then transitioning to backwards and then doing the stop. This looks to be quite a bit gentler on the glutes. It looks like a great idea! I am embarrassed to admit, however, that I can still not transition. I think the problem is not physical, but mentally I cannot commit to the move. I continue the drill as I have been, skating backwards from a full stop every time, forcing my legs into unfamiliar work.  When my legs start complaining loudly from the backwards skating, I take a break to watch the other girls. When everyone else takes a break, I take to the track.

I am going to learn transitions. I am absolutely going to learn it.  I have the whole track to myself as everyone else gets some water and stretches a bit.  I do a couple of slow ones, then decide to try one at a regular skating pace. I know I can do this. I just need to do it. I take a couple of laps. It's time to turn. Toward the inside. Pick up my inside foot. Put it down facing the other way as I transition my weight and Wait Crap No What am I doing? As my feet start doing their thing, my head interrupts. I trip gloriously.  I land smack on my ass. This isn't my usual ass landing, which hurts my pride more than it hurts my tush. I do have quite a bit of padding on that area so I can take a hard hit to the butt. This is not that. This is a solid smack directly to my tailbone.

The pain is horrifying. I see stars and the wind is knocked out of me. I don't think anyone really saw, so my remaining shred of pride is intact. After catching my breath, I pull myself up (thank goodness I can get up) and go to sit gingerly, carefully on the bench for a while.

Mandy skates over to me and very gently and carefully suggests to me that if I don't have the stamina to participate in the drill that maybe I can skate some laps. Two things are obvious here. One is that she didn't see the fall and thinks I'm just lounging on the bench. The other is that she is trying very hard to squelch the no-nonsense, slightly aggressive tone she normally uses with skaters. She's walking on eggshells with me. It would be easier on me if she would just be blunt. Then I could respond with the appropriate amount of self righteousness. As it is, I smile and say something like, "Oh, yes I'll hop back out there. I just got the wind knocked out of me and it's taking me a second to catch my breath." Wuss.

After a few minutes I get up. Standing hurts less than sitting. I skate slowly around the outside of the track. I absolutely can not afford to fall on my butt again. I keep my knees bent appropriately, leaning slightly forward in proper stance. I take it slowly, concentrating on keeping my stride even so I don't fall.

Vera comments in how well I'm skating. "How can you say you're not improving? Look at that stride! It's much better than when we scored your skills test."  My heart is happy; my butt still aches.

Sitting on the bench and removing my skates after practice is not kind to my sore behind. I'm distracted somewhat by all the girls coming up to tell me how they've had times they wanted to quit too. I appreciate this greatly.  It does make me feel better.  On the other hand, I'm now "that girl."  I'm the whiny new girl who can't hang and needs all this extra encouragement.  I'm high maintenance.  How embarrassing.

By the time I hit the hay, my butt hurts so I can barely move.  It had better heal soon.  I have practice on Sunday and I'm really looking forward to it!

Suck it Up Time

I arrive at practice and take my customary hour or so to gear up. I head to the new girls, and I'm dying. My hip is still killing me from my recent fall. I can do this, though.

What are we doing today? Knee drops.

Shit.

Skating hurts a bit, dropping to my knees hurts a bit. Getting up is murder. I clench my teeth to hold in the yell every time.

The bad part isn't the pain. It's pretty bad, but what is worse is what it does to me. Instead of jumping in to take my turn, I hang around the periphery. I'm actively trying to get passes over some. I just have to give my hip some rest.

We work on stops. T-stops, yay! No more knee drops.

Except now I'm legitimately falling a lot, which presents the same issue with getting up.

Now it's plow stops. The movement itself puts such extreme pressure on my aching hip.

I look around, and I know no one of these women would let a sore hip slow them down.

I suppose it's time to stop whining and suck it up.

Ouch! My Pride!

The kids are asleep. The baby monitor is rests on a table in the garage. The husband is grilling.

I am in the driveway, skates and gear on, practicing the skills I'm learning.

Hubby hasn't seen me on skates since the first time I thought of joining derby, five years ago. Back then, I wobbled on legs that were not in cooperation with my feet. I had been terrified of falling, which was unfortunate because I couldn't stay up.

Now, however, I can roll forward without falling every time. Even more important than that I my confidence. I feel pretty good on my skates. My body is no longer rigid. I am not holding my breath. My face is not in a scowl. I am enjoying myself, and feel extremely proud.

Don't they always say that pride goes before the fall?

As I'm practicing knee drops, Hubby asks, "If you fall, should I help you up?"

"Nope," I say, "getting up is part of what learning."

It seems almost immediate after I say this that I suffer a catastrophic fall. I'm not sure how it happens. All I know is my back hit the ground as my right leg goes in a completely different direction from the rest of me.

Think James Brown, and those splits.

As I land, a shocking jolt screams through my hip. Once I'm down, however, I feel okay. I start to get up. I try to swing my leg around in front of me and bend my knee.

Obviously, someone is stabbing me in the hip. That I the only explanation for this agony. I cant even get my leg into position to try to get up. I'm done slaying for the day. I remove my skates and try to get up again.

Sonofabitch! Ouch! Really?!?

The elves stabbing me in the hip are going to work with explosives now. I can't get up at all. I now must swallow my pride and ask Hubby for help. He helps me to my feet and picks up my skates for me. We head inside.

Nope. Not happening. I can't walk at all. My hip is full of barbed wire, and when I try to put weight on it, I feel like fainting. Hubby helps me into the house, where I plant my butt on the sofa the rest of the night.

Ouch, my pride. Thankfully, Hubby is saving his jokes for tomorrow.