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!

I Quit!

I haven't been honest with anybody lately.

Everyone asks if I'm having fun at practice. I always say I am. This is an all-out bald faced lie. I am miserable every second of every practice. It's two hours of physical and mental battering.

I used to miserable for part of practice, but not the entire thing. It is hard work, and my body does protest. I'm not going to pretend that skating through foot cramps, back pain, muscle aches, and trembling legs is a party. It was, however until recently, extremely rewarding. Every practice I could feel improvement. It was happening faster than I thought it would. I could skate faster for longer. I learned new skills. Every practice ended with me feeling spent, but empowered.

That has all changed. My endurance has taken a nose dive. I can skate fewer laps than I could a month ago. I can't make it through the warm up. I can't hold a plank, even sissy style. Forget about honing my skills to retake the test. I am farther from passing it than I have ever been.

Twice a week I drive to practice all excited. I am going to push through. I will keep skating no matter how tough it gets. I am building endurance. This is a good thing. Today will be awesome.

Then practice starts. Five laps into the warm up, my legs shakes and my back aches. I breath fire. I bail out of the warm up drill, unable to complete it. I try to keep skating around the outside of the track, but it is sometimes all I can do to stand still on my skates. I fight against my desire to sit down. It's not so much that my body hurts as it is that I can't make it move. The mean girl in my head starts in. "You're never going to be able to do this. You're never going to be able to do this." The girl in my head gets louder as practice continues, as I struggle and fight and still must sit occasionally. Every practice ends with the exercise of holding back my tears until I make it to the car.

Today I admit defeat.

The new girl practice starts out promising but quickly slides southward. It consists of me and the one other new girl. You know - the one that's been skating for like two weeks and is ready to pass skills. We have the second track all to ourselves today.

Our warm up is laps. We are told to take ten laps each direction. Awesome! I really want to get some plain old fashioned skating in. I also need to work on my crossovers. This is so much better than trying to run warm up drills with the big girls.

Except it's not.

I struggle early. After the first five laps I'm already hurting. I'm not getting the hang of crossovers. By the time we switch direction, I can barely see anything except the track in front of me. Skate. Skate. Skate. Skate. I fudge the last lap, since they're waiting on me anyway.

As practice continues, I slide into despair. Everything is a haze of exhaustion and pain. Why am I putting myself through this? I'm only causing myself pain and disappointment. What's making it worse is we are running the best new girl drills ever. We take turns pushing then pulling each other around the track. This kind of thing is super fun, but all I can think of is how sick I feel. And, of course, how I'm never going to be good enough.

Finally I get to the last straw. We are to do five laps while leaning on each other. This is an awesome exercise, and it can help my stability. There's no way, however, that I can do five laps. We set out, and the other new girl, bless her heart, is encouraging me and trying to help push me along. I can barely see. I hear myself say out loud, "I can't do this anymore. I can't do it.". I repeat it over and over. She tells me we can get through it; just keep going. My feet are lead. My lungs are fire. I'm miserable. I simply will never be able to do this. Why do I continue to come here and kill myself?

Harmony yells that we need to pick up the pace. At this, 'm done. I'm out. I'm finished with the heat and the pain, with struggling to conquer something I will never master. Tears sting my eyes, blurring my vision further as I tell Harmony I'm going home and skate over to my bag. I pack my bag, openly weeping but trying not to burst into sobs. I sling my bag over my shoulder and head to the door.

I turn to take one final look back. Practice continues. Girls skate and stop, laugh and sweat. I hear their voices as they call out to each other, the rolling of wheels, the grinding of stopping, the clatter of pads hitting the floor.

This is the place where I was part of something special.

I get to my car and sob uncontrollably for a while. I am heartbroken. This place has been my place of misery, exhaustion, and defeat. I don't belong here. Why does the knowledge that I will never come back absolutely reduce me to shreds? I can't explain it. You'd think it would be a relief.

It's with a very heavy heart that I head home and end my time with Roller Derby.