What The Hell Was That?

I've been wearing the same pajamas for three days. The ones I put on when I got home from the bout on Saturday. For the first time ever, I didn't feel like the after party. I took a hit that knocked me on the ground and shot my ankle out to trip another skater. Low block - Major. No one was seriously hurt but I hurt like I was in a car accident. My breath was taken away and I was confused. I screamed some profanity in the midst of shoulder and ankle pain and watched my team, just points away from a giant comeback, skate away while I took every bit of my three seconds to get up.

I was actually grateful for my minute in the penalty box, where I shed a few tears. I was definitely scared at what could have happened and wept as I surveyed my body parts. My shoulder was on fire but then swelling and a searing pain in my ankle, which just got run over, set in. Mostly though I just felt stupid. Stupid because it was a rookie mistake. I got hit trying to hold the inside line around turn 2 and fell that hard because I wasn't watching for it. Now I am bawling.

As queen of the defensive drivers who has been intently working on pack awareness, in the middle of a crucial jam, I was flattened by an invisible blocker. She was invisible because I didn't see her hit me nor skate away and was so rattled and dazed from the hard fall that I couldn't even tell you who was in that jam - my team or the other. It was a crushing blow to my already bruised ego.

I almost didn't skate in this bout. My work got in the way and I just barely made attendance. My captain let me play anyway. I missed three major practices last week because of work. Getting hit that hard during the bout happened because I was exhausted and missed practice so was not prepared mentally or physically. Even one missed practice can throw a whole game. This week we had a league meeting so practice was cut to just an hour and a half. Even though it was an hour and a half of intense hitting and there is a giant green bruise on my left thigh, it was not enough to make up for 9 hours of missed practice. The next day was a scrimmage and there were a lot of people so I didn't play as much as I usually do when there is hardly anyone.

Lamenting over a Blue Moon with orange at my most depressing after party yet, I decided that this simply would not continue. I would never miss practice again unless it was an emergency. I am almost 40 years old and while I was a competitive skier until age 25 and played field hockey in high school and college, I gave up sports (actually any activity at all) and let my body and mind go. I gained 100 pounds and sunk into an incredible decade-long depression.

When I gave birth to twins on September 11, 2010, I almost died. I coded, they said, for just under two minutes. When I awoke from the coma, the first things I thought of were the kids (they are okay), steak (on its way) and skiing. I discovered roller derby as a way to get my ski legs back but of course I love it more than any other sport I've been involved with. Okay I love it pretty much more than anything. I did get my ski legs back and have already lost 35 pounds and countless inches. I'm on a plateau but I'm getting ready to fuck that up by not missing practice and skating in the park on rest days.

Having already lived an amazing life and pushing the Big 4-0, I decided to quit my job in favor of roller derby. Perhaps this was a bit impulsive but I am sick of compromising. I am not worried about getting another job as this has never been a problem for me. I am worried about getting flattened by the Invisible Blocker and/or sitting my ass on the couch - never to get up again. For people like me, former athletes that let it all go, the potential for regression and even death is very real. I would rather not have a heart attack like my father.

I'm not suggesting everyone go out and impulsively resign like I did but derby has made me face some very real truths about myself. The wide range of emotions and crying in public are the side effect of laying everything I have on the track. Sometimes we have to make sacrifices to do the right thing and doing the right thing for me was saying bye-bye to my job that thought it came before derby. Only my children come before derby. Should I add this to my résumé as not to confuse my next employer?

So whining over my burger, fries and beer at the after party, Medusa Damage stopped by to apologize for the major hit. But, she said, she got a loud oooOOOooo from the crowd and that's what she was going for. The invisible blocker no more, she's in for it. Better keep your eyes peeled and Wasatch your back, Medusa.