Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Kicking Mediocrity's Ass

It takes an inordinate amount of work for me to just be mediocre at roller derby. Don't get me wrong, I'm a respectable 3rd year derby player, but I'm not "super-fantastic great." I was running at the Lake last night after work with my dog, Calvin, when I spotted two roller girls up ahead: my wife, Flo Shizzle (who finally figured out how to log onto her computer to read the entry where I called her out, but still hasn't responded because she can't figure out how), and the All Stars captain and my home team's arch rival for two seasons, Joy Collision, formerly of the Night Terrors. I'm more than three-quarters around the 1.3-mile Lake, waving, but the pair looked fairly surprised to see me there… running.

It's somewhat frustrating. I was telling my new captain last week that even when I was a kid and playing sports non-stop, I never was a super star. The closest I came to superstardom was when I played tennis, but let's face it, tennis is no contact sport. Instead, I was always the one who was made an example of by my coach: "…she may not be the best player on the team, but she hustles every single time she's out there, and that's what I want to see all of you do!" So, that's me. The person who works a lot but who has never been the superstar.

I suppose there's something to be said for hustling. I mean, it's not like I don't try – quite to the contrary. On days I don't skate at formal practice, I run 1.5 miles on the treadmill during my lunch, or I skate at least 6 miles at the Lake after work. Sometimes I actually do both. Today I ran at the Lake, and sometimes that's an option too. I've become an exercise fanatic, and for good reason. It makes derby easier for me. Still, I can't imagine I could possibly do any more than I'm already doing on a daily basis, and it seems to me that I'd have to in order to be a superstar.

So, as you may be able to tell, my not having reached roller derby superstar status really bothers me. I'm such a fucking overachiever. I do suppose that there are worse things I could strive to be: a hipster, a romance writer, or middle management (I actually have been planning attempting to write a romance novel for shits and giggles – I'll let you know how it goes).

So now the question is: what do I need to do to burst through my mediocrity plateau? I'm really unsure. I don't know if it's mental or (sigh) physical. I certainly hope it's not the latter, but it probably is, at least somewhat.

Perhaps I've lost sight of the real prize here – that being the journey and not the destination. Am I having fun trying to become a better derby player? Yes. And I feel great, personally. But, I'm still not prepared to concede to the superstardom. You can bet that's one reason why I play derby – for the competition. Sometimes it's competition with other players, other teams; sometimes it's competition with myself. Either way, I'm a sucker for it.

Yeah, I'll continue to enjoy the journey, even if I get startled looks if I'm caught out running. What's gonna make it so sweet in the end is the amount of ass I kick and the looks I get when that happens.


Anonymous said...

HEY WIFEY... YOU ARE A SUPERSTAR!!! It is what is in your heart that counts. You do so much in your personal life and with derby that you are and will always be a superstar. Furthermore, I am never surprised to see anyone out and about exercising... i am always pleased... I just wish you were there skating with us!!! As for my inability to post to blogs... you got me... but obviously I'm learning. I am proud to be your wifey and YOU ROCK!!!!


SKabs said...

running is for everyone! yea!

by the way your hair is awesome. deathany?

Megan said...

oh shut up, tara. you rock and you know it. ;)

Lee Duh said...

flo is right... you are AWESOME!!

Hooligal said...

I bet you're awesome, but you always think you're not so awesome, so you keep pushing to be awesomer until one day you will reach the pinicle of awesomeness.

But seriously, I think it's a fairly healthy attitude. 'A wise man knows only that he knows nothing' Basically, a good athelte knows only that she can improve, and does so. ;)