Panic in Detroit

For a girl who named her blog Big Derby Girls don’t Cry, I sure do cry a lot. Although I don’t ever cry because I’m a big girl – I cry for other reasons. Christ, I cry over derby all the time. I guess I just love it that much though, which really isn't a bad thing.

My most recent crying episode took place where else but at ECE, the East Coast Derby Extravaganza hosted by the Philly Rollergirls in Feasterville last weekend (I hate the name of that town – it reminds me of a festering wound…).

Having completed our victory lap and spectator high-five hand slapping following our second game of the weekend versus Detroit, I made my way to the locker room as quickly as possible, not exactly busting out in tears, but more like unsuccessfully holding them in as soon as I entered the room. It's like when you have to pee really badly and you know you're close to a bathroom - you could have held it for well over an hour already, but once your bladder knows you're almost there it becomes so much harder to hold it in. Luckily my bag was in the corner so I could position myself so my teammates couldn't see the tears leaking out of my eyes.

Forty minutes into the game when I realized I probably wouldn’t be placed in another jam I gave myself permission to cry once I made it through the game and out of the locker room with my packed-up skate bag. It was all I could do several times in the last half in order to not burst into tears right there on the bench.

I was first into the locker room, but my teammates quickly filed in behind me – I had just several more items to gather when with a big booming post-victory voice I hear Lady Quebeaum say, “Cindy LOP-HERRRR!!! You have a fan outside who’s waiting to meet YOU!!!”

In one word: fuck.

A fan? What fan? I don’t have fans. For fucks sake, I thought, is this a joke? I only played in 2 jams today. Who the fuck wants to see ME???

“I’ll be there in a minute,” I said, still facing the corner of the room. I needed an exit plan and soon, because before long I wouldn’t be able to contain the emotions any longer and I didn’t want to experience the crying equivalent of pissing my pants right there in front of my team or whomever this so called fan was. Pretending to wipe away sweat, I dried my eyes and made a B-line for the door and from the door to the hallway behind the rink, looking straight ahead, not making eye contact with anyone. I swear I must have made it not 10 steps before I hear my name being called. Busted.

It was an old ref friend, Howie Swerve, who started reffing here in Baltimore but who had since moved out of state. I’ve run into him since he’s moved now and again, but I hadn’t seen him in a while. He wanted to introduce me to his friend. Trying not to sound like a douche, I started yammering about how I just had to run to my car. Howie said it would only take a second. I then had to take off my sunglasses and show him I was crying – the real reason I was avoiding meeting his friend. Embarrassed much?

At the time I couldn’t think clearly enough to pinpoint exactly why I was so upset, but I did know that it would look like I was being a spoiled impatient brat who expects to be handed whatever she wants, including vast amounts of play time, so I knew well enough to hide the tears from my team, because I didn’t want them to get the wrong impression. I love my team. And it was only several hours later that I realized what had hurt me most: I felt so close to my team going into this game, but after riding that bench so hard I should have gotten ass splinters I couldn’t have felt more further away, and it hurt.

When I was in grade school we seemed to move to a different state every 3 years. Just as soon as I finally seemed to be making headway by establishing friendships with the kids in my new school, it was time to go again. I remember the feelings of anxiety and utter isolation that consumed me in the initial days and weeks at my new schools. I felt those same feelings when I first made the team. I was unsure what the team dynamic would be, and I was afraid my teammates would be so fiercely competitive for those roster spots and game time that they might not be too accepting of my being there. Luckily, I was wrong.

My team is an amazing group of women who are so supportive of each other that even those girls who know they’re going up against each other for that last roster spot before alternate want to see each other succeed and help each other get better during practice. It’s truly amazing to be a part of this.

But what about the mere 2 jams, you ask. I was more surprised than anything, and I certainly wasn’t angry. I went into the game with expectations that I would play as much if not more than I played in the Carolina game, since Carolina is ranked higher than Detroit. Coming out of that game and my 2 jams, I was shocked and confused and sad. But like I said earlier, I was most upset that I felt like I was no longer part of the team – a feeling similar to that of my first day at a new school or my first practice as an All Star – a feeling that exists only in my mind and, sadly, is only of my own creation.

It was hard walking to my car after I talked to Howie. With my uniform tee still on, derby friends I know and don’t get to see all that often were walking by me saying “good game” and “nice win”. I felt like an imposter saying “thank you” with teary eyes behind my sunglasses, because at the time I felt that I didn’t really contribute – that I wasn’t part of the team that took that win.

I’ve since had time to think about things, gain perspective, and calm down. I’ve also had time to contact Howie, get his friend’s email addy, and send her a note apologizing for my lack of togetherness last weekend. Luckily, the feeling of being alienated from my team subsided in about a day, and I’ve been fine since.

I did learn several things from this whole experience. First, as much as anxiety creeps up on me before a game and makes me think that maybe I don’t really want to play derby, I now know without a doubt that I do indeed want to play. Second, my place on the team never went away or became less important than anyone else's place on our team – the feeling of alienation was something I created in my own mind. Third, communication is key. Like Dolly said to me yesterday, “It’s like a relationship, you’re never going to get what you want unless you ask for it.” I slipped through the cracks, so to speak – it wasn’t intentional that I was only placed in 2 jams. Bouts are chaotic and now I know to say something nicely and politely to the bench coach if it’s been a damn good while since I was last in the game. Lastly, tomorrow’s another day. Today may be good, today may be bad, but the potential to make tomorrow better than today exists with us all. Although I must continue to work on improving my personal skill as a player, I also need to learn to be less hard on myself. After all, I’ve got a fan. Holy crap, that’s cool.

Facebook Makes My Soul Weep

Among the many reasons why Facebook is killing my soul is the fact that I rarely have time to post entries here anymore. I’ve become addicted to the instant gratification I get by posting a million 25-words-or-less “updates” per day via my phone. I’ve come to feel that by the time I sit down to write something, I’ve already said it all. Yet, I’ve in fact said nothing. Curse you, Facebook, and the false sense of socialization you provide for me! Today is the day I do what I should have done weeks ago – I’m removing the app from my phone, and I’m done with Facebook for the week.

There was just a slight twinge of panic when I deleted the app, similar to the panic I felt last year when I took my last Vicoden for the second shoulder injury. I shouldn’t have felt that way about prescription drugs, and I shouldn’t feel that way about living without Facebook either. It’s like I don’t even know who I am anymore.

I knew things were coming to this last week while toilet surfing – I almost posted exactly what I was doing, as if telling the world I was making Mr. Hankeys was somehow acceptable now. Thank dog, I held myself back. Then yesterday I got a glimpse of the derby attitude I had before the massive Facebook obsession took its hold on me. I was blogging more, so I was more focused on derby. I knew where I stood and where I wanted to go, and I felt good about it! Lately, though, the lack of blogging has made me sad and confused. I guess I need to “get it out” so I can understand whatever “it” is that’s bothering me. And, well, you know me – I’m extremely long winded, so it’s completely understandable that I cannot accomplish a similar discussion with myself via a fucking Facebook update… While on the toilet (?!). I’ve boiled down everything important in my life to 1 to 2 sentences. Well, here’s 1 to 2 sentences: “Cindy’s taking her life back. Fuck you, Facebook.”

So much has gone on since I last blogged. I’ve noticed in myself a deep dip into self-doubt – similar to the negative self talk I use to have with myself back when I would choke doing anything derby-playing related. I’m a mental player, and I need my mind to be clear when I go into a game. I need to relearn how to focus, and I need to practice getting myself out of that place while in the midst of a game. This was the sole focus of my therapy session last week.

This past weekend made me proud to be a Charm City All Star – I wasn’t one of the 14 rostered to skate against Texas, but I’m super proud of my girls for bringing it and creating a point spread of 8 measly points, even though they lost.

This weekend is ECE in Philly, and I’ll be playing in our game against Detroit on Saturday, which is unfortunately almost entirely overlapping with the headlining Philly/Rat City game. Two weeks later I’m headed to Kansas City to play against them, so I’m hoping to be able to catch some of their games this weekend at ECE.

This coming week leading to ECE is a busy one, with practice tonight and tomorrow night and a butt-crack-of-dawn flight on Wednesday to Miami for two days with my mom. I think the mini-vacation will be good for my state of mind – that, and not being on Facebook while I’m there. I look forward to running on the beach (or in the spa on a treadmill because I’m not sure how to get sand out of my good running shoes and I don’t want to ruin them). I also look forward to good food and relaxation. Ahhh, it feels good to be back on track with my life. Maybe I’ll even bring my laptop so I can write while I’m there.

The Hamley Cup

More from me later, I promise. For now, please click here to vote for retired CCRG skater, Betty Beatdown's The Hamley Cup entry.



After derby, Beatdown has gotten really into hockey, and as many of us know, there's actually a lot of crossover between derby and hockey as far as strategy and blocking go. Anyhow, she entered a contest to replicate The Stanley Cup out of anything but foil. If you know Beatdown, you know her love of ham and bacon exceeds the desires of most "normal" people, so it's only fitting that she made a Stanley Cup out of ham and bacon. It's gorss, yes, but dear god is it amazing.

So, help this rollergirl win a prize for manipulating meat! GO HERE!

PS: 8 years ago Beatdown drank from the replica Stanley Cup. She was living in Toronto at the time, and the winning team just so happened to come celebrate in that bar, straight from the game.

Moon Pies!

I completely forgot about Moon Pies until we played against Carolina and they included a generous amount of the delicious southern treat in our dressing-room gift basket. They may have been a bit too strange for the rest of my teammates, but I screamed for joy when I saw them. MOON PIES!

When I was 8 years old my dad got a new job, and our family made the move from Georgia to Mississippi. I can’t say we moved around “quite often”, but we also weren’t strangers to moving – having moved from Arizona to Georgia on the same pretenses just over 3 years earlier. This move to Mississippi was different in that we hadn’t found a house to live in prior to arriving in Mississippi with all of our stuff. My dad’s company put us up in an “apartment complex” (and I use that term loosely) for the first 3 or 4 months we lived there.

The apartment complex I speak of was a motel – not an apartment complex. Nonetheless, it was home, and this first home in Mississippi is one of which I have both vivid memories of some things and complete lack of recollection of others. I remember getting a pogo ball when we lived there. It was a black ball with a red foot-board, and I thought it was ugly, but I had desperately wanted a pogo ball and I bothered my parents for it nonstop, so I used it, albeit not nearly as much as I would have used it had it been pink or purple. Day-to-day things, I can’t really remember. I think we had a microwave in one of our rooms, and I know I must have bathed there, but for the life of me I cannot remember what the bathroom looked like or how we ate dinner!

Nonetheless, there is one day-to-day occurrence that I do remember: studying after school and getting Moon Pies from the motel vending machine afterwards. It was fall and the motel pool was closed, but there was a swing set on the other side of it. After school, my mom would take me to the swing set and as she pushed me she’d ask me to recite my times tables. Six times one is six; six times two is twelve; six times three is eighteen… Early on I would have to think about the higher multiplications, like eight times nine. My mom taught me to visualize dots in my head, and it worked. I saw black dots against a red background. To this day when I have to think about math calculations in my head, I see the black dots against the red background. I still remember the repetition of the swing and how eventually the times tables, even the big numbers, became automatic – something I no longer had to think about. How did it become automatic? I’m not sure – it just did.

After a half hour or so of studying on the swing set, my mom would lead me through the maze of outside hallways connecting the motel rooms and to the vending machine where she’d give me however much money it cost to purchase one chocolate Moon Pie.

I totally forgot about the existence of Moon Pies until last month. When we left the motel, the placement of the Moon Pie in my daily life was cut to an “every so often” occurrence. When we left Mississippi for Maryland, Moon Pies ceased to exist at all.

I’ve been having problems lately executing a certain type of block. Worried about staying in my box, foot position, hip position, and shoulder position, I’ve been thinking too much about the block while blocking, and I just can’t get it. Like Yoda, Dolly told me yesterday to “don’t think, just do”. My natural inclination is to over think, because I’m afraid that if I don’t think I’ll wind up doing something in that bad-habit poor form I’ve been speaking so much about lately. It’s hard to know when to let go and when to think.

After practice yesterday I came home to the mini vanilla Moon Pie that I had saved from the Carolina bout sitting on the counter – begging me to eat it. It was then that it hit me: just like how the times tables eventually became automatic, so would this type of block – I just need daily repetition.

The coaches have told us before why we should practice certain things at home, and it’s not that I didn’t believe them. It’s more that I didn’t fully get it. Thanks to the Moon Pie, I got it.

Lessons learned today: agree to see an apartment before you move into it, repetition of a skill makes that skill automatic, and Moon Pies are a gift from the gods – a treat that is both delicious and smart!

Bad Habits

I was ready to have a great day today – I really was – but then I had All Star practice and now I feel like my happy mood of early morning is nowhere to be found. I’m frustrated – very frustrated. The practice itself was great. My performance in it was not. I learned a lot today about how many bad habits I’ve accumulated (and in some cases perfected) over my derby years, and I feel like no matter how hard I try I just cannot break them.

I know they say quitting smoking is hard. It wasn’t for me. What is hard? Aside from my natural inclination to eat the portion size delegated to a family of five (I think I’ll always have to watch that – I like food), there are certain things I’ve always done in derby that are wrong. Not “differing in style”, but just plain wrong.

Part of me realizes I only have myself to blame. When we started our league we didn’t know what the hell we were doing, and we taught other girls to do things wrong, because we were either told by someone from another league who was also ignorant or we flat out made it up – not to hurt anyone, but because we didn’t know any better and we honestly thought what we were teaching made sense.

There’s another important and often overlooked aspect to the story here. Not only did we instruct and be instructed to do things wrong, but also there was a hell of a lot we just never considered and didn’t know we didn’t know. Shit, it was LAST YEAR that I learned to crossover in a way that maximized all my strength and speed. There were basics that I was never taught, that I never thought someone should have taught me, or that I never knew to teach anyone else. I feel responsible for not only playing a part in teaching the wrong things, but also for not knowing we weren’t training our ladies in a well-rounded manner.

Now, here I am – nearly 5 years later. I’m still doing (and in some cases NOT doing) shit that is not effective, not helpful to me, and worst of all, I can’t seem to get those basic reactions and movements to change. Today, I know FULL WELL what I SHOULD be doing, but it’s not natural and my body falls back into “we’ve always done this in response to that, so we’re doing it again” – a “fuck you” from my body to my brain. Great.

There is one bad habit that I’ve always had that was again present at today’s practice, but it wasn’t one that’s exclusive to roller derby. No, this is a problem I have throughout my life, so I should not be surprised it reared its head at the rink this morning. I get frustrated. Not just “gosh, darn it” frustrated. BLIND RAGE frustrated. Where if I can’t control the snowball effect of the frustration, I’m either gonna cry or flip out. Not to mention that it consumes my brain and body, and I cannot perform the simplest derby task you’ve asked me to do, because I’m so worked up. My body repeats its old mistakes because of this, I get even more frustrated because I can see this cycle happening, but that only continues to fuel the fire.

Today? An asthma attack. I can’t say that my frustration directly caused the attack, but I was pretty fucking frustrated when it happened. Maybe the frustration manifested itself in a part of my body that was already weak (still getting over the spring cold and it’s humid as all hell in Baltimore right now) – I wouldn’t be surprised.

I need to learn to control myself.

I know first hand that remaining calm and clear-headed in the pack does wonders for my performance. I’ve seen glimpses of this (it could be two jams a night), but they aren’t consistent.

It’s so hard to have such a strong desire to want to change and become better, only to sideline yourself with your own bad habits. If I can’t kick these things, I won’t play much with the All Stars. I wish I knew what I needed to do to break these physical bad habits quicker. I know I need to practice mental control to break perhaps the worst habit of all. I guess I’ll start there.

I remember when I was 17 – the first time my mom had me join Weight Watchers. At 17 I was naturally frustrated at the lack of perfection I saw in the mirror, but when the “plan” didn’t work as quickly as I thought it would, I got that same feeling of blind rage and utter failure that I had this morning. I had only lost 3 pounds. I don’t know how many I was thinking I would lose, but 3 was completely unacceptable in my mind.

I came home, kicked some shit, cried, and ate a whole hell of a lot to “show them” (the Weight Watcher’s women behind the scale). Productive, I know. Later that day, after I had calmed down, my dad brought me a plastic grocery bag filled with water and tied off at the top. It weighed 3 pounds. Having seen it put that way, 3 pounds didn’t seem as small as it did in my head earlier that day. It was heavier than I thought, and the volume was greater. Maybe all the hard work I did during the week had paid off in that 3 (measly) pounds.

If I had vacation time for each instance I allowed myself to get to the point of feeling utter failure and blind rage because of frustration, I could probably take a whole year off work. It’s a waste of time, and I’ve wasted a lot of time over the years. How much time have I wasted on the track? Just about an hour today.

It’s hard being an adult and being responsible for yourself. I no longer have someone to hand me that bag full of water – I have to do it on my own, which I haven’t fully learned to do yet. Oddly enough, I don’t think I would have “gotten it” – the fact that I need to learn to self-regulate myself to conserve time – if I hadn’t went through the process of writing this entry.

Writing this blog has held me accountable. Usually I shame myself into being accountable by telling you all publically what I need to do, and then I know I’ll look like an asshole if I don’t follow through, so I do it. This is different. This entry is more a connection that has allowed me to access some of the knowledge I learned at a different time, and I’m thankful for that.

Today’s takeaways: self-control, practice, and patience. It’s unrealistic for me to think I can unlearn so many bad habits RIGHT NOW. I just need to take the time to repetitively practice the new skills and recognize that over time they will replace the older, incorrect ones. Time’s not necessarily on my side, but I only push my final realization of making the new skills automatic further away when I allow myself to lose control. This is true for so much of life, not just those portions of it I spend on 8 wheels.

I Think I Can: Carolina & Pushing On

As I stood on the rink last night awaiting instruction on what I’d have to do to re-tryout for the All Stars (we all must tryout each quarter), Dolly Rocket says to me, “So, what position do you wanna play?” I explained how the All Star captains decided to put me up front at either Pivot or what we call Blocker 2. I went on to explain that in the Carolina game, I played Blocker 2, but immediately following, I played Pivot with Female Trouble (our B team) against the Carolina Bootleggers. “This,” I said, “was perfect, because after playing B2, I got to play Pivot and immediately see what I wanted out of a B2.” And that was my biggest take away from the Carolina bout.

Prepping for Carolina, I did a lot of running the week beforehand, and although that prepared my endurance, nothing could have prepared me for the heat down south. After a minute of doing laps in full gear (just 1!), my head was fully drenched in sweat and I had already accidentally wiped all the eye makeup off my left eye. Carolina’s venue is a sauna, and I’m a happy lady that Eastern Regionals are in the fall instead of the spring or summer. It was so hot in there I was sweating someone else’s balls off.

Carolina was my first bout with the All Stars, and along with that came a lot of anxiety on my part. The biggest question in my mind leading up to the Carolina bout was the following: would I choke?

Choking is something I’ve done well ever since my dad passed away. I’d never had this problem before, but it was a pattern I’d come to recognize and had not yet broken. Would I choke? Would I get out there in a jam and be completely ineffective? Would I be so scared that I would fuck up that I would be paralyzed with fear? Would I be detrimental to our team?

The best I could do to prepare was to go over the scenarios of what I should be doing in what position and when and bond with my team. During the van ride to Carolina the day of the bout, convincing myself that I could break the cycle and not choke, I realized for the very first time that not only would this be my first All Star bout back, but this also would be my first bout since the double shoulder injuries over a year ago! Talk about pressure.

I guess I felt like I had been bouting all this time (okay, since January), because we scrimmage so much. I had never thought about this being my first bout back PERIOD before. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Game time was near, and a mishap during structured warm-ups caused me to tweak my back – not the best way to go into a game. Taking a hard hit from (guess who) Joy Collision (because I swear I’m ALWAYS her punching bag in this one drill), I fell on a skate wheel on my lower back, causing an instant cramp at the location of the impact. All my good mojo quickly went south, and it took everything I had to complete the warm-up and not cry right there. The “you can do this” self talk turned into “what are you thinking – you can’t even make it through warm-ups!” Somehow I managed to pull myself together and get focused on the game in which I mainly played B2 (I may have played Pivot once or twice with Dolly or Holly in the box).

The first game where I’ve ever gotten positive feedback, I felt fairly ineffective, but this is becoming a very common problem of mine – I cannot accurately assess my own performance. AT ALL.

I came out of the Carolina game and went right into the doubleheader, playing Pivot almost every other jam against the Bootleggers (we beat Carolina in case you didn’t know). Holy, crap, was that hard! Female Trouble doesn’t really practice together, and we got slaughtered. With no real strategy, my B2 was almost always missing from where I wanted her to be, which taught me a very valuable lesson about what is needed out of a B2. What did I want from a B2? Well, after that game I thought about that long and hard and am now trying to be that person for my Pivot on the All Stars, which brings me back to last night’s re-try-out for the All Stars. I hate tests. Did I mention I hate tests?

Having caught a cold in Carolina, I’ve been fighting phleghm ever since. Last Saturday’s bout worked the gunk further into my lungs, and I spent most of my Memorial Day weekend in old sweatpants on the couch. Last night? Frequent trips to the rink door to expel the lung butter disturbed by all the heavy breathing. Then came assessments.

Coming off a high from last Saturday’s inaugural home bout (I had a 15+-point jam in my 1st jam of the night, despite DNN reports saying it was only 10), I felt like “the shit” while also feeling “like shit”, which resulted in what I thought was a horrible assessment performance. I wanted to cry afterwards, but I sucked it in (yeah, yeah, I cry a lot, so maybe I need to change the title of this blog). Again with the “unable to assess my own performance”, I felt terrible and I wouldn’t have put it past the captains and coaches to leave me off the next charter. Luckily, most of my problems seem to be lying in the fact that I cannot assess myself, not that I cannot skate, because I have successfully secured my spot on our roster for another quarter. Yay!

Today was a lunch full of stuffing my face with sushi and drawing out plays with packets of sugar and sweet-n-low with my derby nomalizer, Chairman Meow. Chairman helps me accurately put things in perspective. He’s my derby Mr. Katz. We went over some plays from last night and discussed our typical derby in general, which is what I needed after a night like last night.

Looking back (something Chairman recommended I do), I’ve accomplished a hell of a lot in the short time since I decided I’d try out for the All Star team – It hasn’t even been 4 months! I did what I said I was going to do: I pulled back from all outside “derby work” distractions, and I’ve allowed myself to be selfish for once and focus on me – my skills, my performance, my personal derby growth.

I said 4 months ago that I want to play at Nationals, and by god, I’m still working toward that goal every single day. It’s a vertical climb, it feels like (which is even harder for us big girls), but I’m gonna keep taking steps upward until I reach that top. I told Chairman that today, “I want to play at Nationals.” Which was immediately followed by, “And then I want to take a fucking vacation… The day after Nationals!”

Make no mistake, this shit is HARD, but the reward will be being able to play those top games with my teammates. It’s time to kick things into high gear (which I feel like I increase every other week). My mantra for the next month is run, run, run. I’ve never said something like this before on this blog, but if I could lose another 10 pounds, it would be a heck of a lot easier for me to compete. I’m not stressing about it, and I’m sure as hell not starving myself to get there (not with the bag full of Moon Pies I came back from Carolina with), but now is the time to “trim the fat” so to speak. Clean eating. Organic, nonprocessed foods. I need the best fuel I can get for my body, which is my instrument in derby. Eliminate stress. Stress wreaks havoc on anyone at anytime – I need to keep stress at bay so my body can function optimally. It’s zen all the way, baby. These things ain’t easy, but neither is being the newest team member playing in a bout against a top-5 team. If anyone can do it, I can. It’s full steam ahead! Toot! Toot!

Cramming for Carolina

I’ve certainly learned a lot about myself as a skater since January, but what I’ve learned in just the past few weeks leading up to this first bout of mine back with the All Stars is somewhat mind boggling. Also leading up to this game, I’ve had an array of emotional responses that make me think I may be derby schizophrenic. This caused me to ask myself why these two things were happening – what’s different now? I think the answer is that my mind is fully in the game, I’m able to assess my strengths and weaknesses in a fairly accurate manner, and I care much more about my performance now than I ever have before.

Two weeks ago when I realized Carolina was two weeks away, I panicked. My first thought was, “I’m not ready – I should tell someone to keep me out of the game.” Luckily I didn’t act on that thought, because the immediate fear quickly passed and I was able to convince myself that I would use this game as a learning experience. Still not all that comfortable with my new teammates in my new positions, I went into the next scrimmage practice and did what I’ve always done come game day – choke. Being so worried about doing something “wrong”, I didn’t attempt to do anything definitively right. I was there, I was in the pack, but I wasn’t doing anything.

Feeling incapacitated by conflicting thoughts of what I should be doing right now and orders being barked at me by the Pivot, I got confused and couldn’t do anything at all until it was already too late. A long lunch over Indian food with Chairman Meow, who’s been watching me from the sidelines and giving me feedback after each jam, helped talk me through the confusion, as we mapped out several different scenarios I’d be facing in my new positions with my new teammates. That night I went into scrimmage practice poised to make quick decisions and act on them, communicating them when possible. The result was a pretty damn good night of scrimmaging and a newfound confidence. Not only do I think this game against Carolina will be a good learning experience, but I also think I might be able to kick ass in it as well.

After what is still a hellish work schedule (and a project launch date that’s been moved from May 15 to sometime in June) prevented me from getting in my runs (wow, that sounds like an intestinal issue), I made running a priority this past week and have ran four times outside practice. I can’t tell you how much regular running makes a difference for me. Having learned about how running impacts my body isn’t the only factor about which I’ve recently become acutely aware. Perhaps it’s because I really want to maximize my athletic ability, but I’ve been able to pay more attention to and learn those little thing that help and hurt me.

I’m kind of embarrassed to admit that I just learned this about myself, but hey, better late than never, right? I am the type of player who needs to be really warmed up before playing a bout. I mean REALLY warmed up. This is difficult on the road. You’re in an unfamiliar venue, the bout timeline may be different than you’re used to, etc. I’ve been trying to figure out what to do to get myself warm and ready to play. I think it’s going to be a 10-15 minute run outside the arena tomorrow before we have warm-up time on the track.

I’ve also learned what I should and shouldn’t eat before a game, which I’ll enact tonight and tomorrow. Carbs and protein tonight (burger and fries), followed by water, water, and more water. Tomorrow, I’ll get up early and hit the diner with my sweetie for some QT and a breakfast of champions: a fried egg, cheese, and bacon sandwich with a huge side of hash browns. It will keep me full until 2 hours before the game, at which time I will eat some granola and cereal with soy milk. Can I tell you, for comparison, that my theory behind nutrition and care for myself before my first bout ever was: “Do what you would normally do, and you’ll be fine.” That meant I went on a drinking binge the night before and didn’t get to sleep until 4am! Surprise, I played like shit!

Although I still feel like there’s a lot for me personally riding on this game, I’m much more calm than I have been, and I’m really excited to be able to play with my teammates against another league! Coincidentally, I found out several days ago that I’m on the roster to skate against Detroit at ECE, which makes me squeal with pleasure.

Tomorrow, following the Carolina/Charm City All Stars bout is the Carolina/Charm City B-team bout, in which I’ll also be playing. I’m excited to be able to get in a double header, since that’s something my teammates have been doing for this entire season so far. I’m curious how my endurance will be affected, but I predict that I’ll do better in the second game if only because I’ll be fully warmed up, with a mind fully immersed in derby. I swear to you that I’m most prepared to play a game after a 3-hour scrimmage practice – gotta work on that.

Tomorrow on the van I plan on sewing my patches on my jersey, going over our strategy packet, and writing out some possible game scenarios, so I’ll be reminded of what I should be doing in both positions and when.

It’s been a long road, but it’s also been a really short time frame when you consider that I’ve only been playing with the All Stars since February and back on the track in full swing since January, a mere four-and-a-half months ago. I’ve had tons of help from coaches (Dolly Rocket, Holly Go Hardly) and bench coaches (Chairman Meow & Mr. Pistol) during that time, and I hope I can make them proud with my performance tomorrow!

You can check out the bout preview on DNN here.