My terrible, horrible, no good, very bad eating habits are a bit notorious on my league.  I have always had trouble managing the now vs. the adventure of what’s to come, and as a result I don’t worry too much about some important personal things like my diet.  I would pound down a double cheeseburger from McDonalds and then head to practice like it was nothing.  Well, I ended up realizing that maaaaybe that was a bad idea.  Especially this year.  

In the Pissahs first bout of 2012, my teammates did fantastic and I was goddamn terrible.  I didn’t get much play time and when I did, I felt sluggish and crappy.  When I blocked I felt like I couldn’t wrap my head around the game, like I couldn’t pay attention to what was going on right in front of me.  It sucked, but the cool thing about roller derby is that you always get another jam to prove yourself.

(That’s my teammates communicating and doing awesomely, and me skating in circles in a daze wondering what’s going on…)

(This is my “I’m Tired, Please Stop Hitting Me” face.)

I decided May was going to be an awesome bout for me since April was so terrible.  Even if I only played in one jam, I would make that jam AWESOME.  I switched my diet to about 75% paleo in late April, and although I’m having trouble making a total switch, I’ve noticed an incredible difference.  In just 2.5 weeks, I dropped 7 lbs. just by eating mostly paleo and walking most everywhere.  I have been feeling more energized and although I was sick with a nasty cold for the beginning of May, I’ve put my all into Pissah practices and blocked or jammed every chance I could get.

I’m happy to say it paid off.  Although there’s no pictures or stats yet, this weekend was great.  I felt the best I’ve ever been at a bout.  I jammed AND blocked, and although it wasn’t Regionals caliber or anything, I was proud of what I did on the track.  I played a lot in the first half and sat for a significant amount of time in the second half, but I still felt warmed up and ready to play.  We fought hard for our win, and I was glad I could contribute.  I think I’ll stick to this diet a little longer and push myself for some real results.

Photo credit, as always, goes to this awesome dude.

I have a Nurse Practitioner that’s pretty rad.  She totally gets the derby thing and has had to check me out more than once for derby injuries (scrambled brains, pulled muscles, etc.).  When I went on Wednesday and she asked what was wrong, her face was pretty priceless when I meekly said, “It hurts when I breathe.”  

On Sunday, we had a really good practice and were all feeling in the zone.  I went at it 100% and had some good plays, including my teammate screaming at me in terror (scared the hell out of me).  I left feeling good, but that night my back/side started to ache and I could no longer raise my arm above my head.  It got worse and worse over the next few days until I felt like someone was shoving a hot screwdriver under my shoulder blade and into my side every time I took a deep or shallow breath.  WebMD said I either broke a rib or had a miscarriage or have herpes.  Considering I didn’t have sexual relations with anyone at practice, I feared that I had finally broken a bone.

The good news is that I did not break a rib.  The bad news is that I bruised up a couple ribs and my right trapezius muscle is bulging out of my back from a contusion.  A shot in the ass of musculo-skeletal painkillers, a fistful of muscle relaxers, and a shitload of giant pain-zapping horse pills is what I gained, and two weeks of no-contact skating (although she told me it’s best to not have physical activity).  I drew the line at getting a sling or shoulder brace.

Basically for me, it means “skip a few practices, sleep a lot, and learn to ignore it”. We’ve got a bout coming up and I am just starting to feel decent about my blocking.  I don’t want to take steps backwards. 

Also, my sweet 28-year-streak of no broken bones continues to stand!  Yeah!

No lies - this made my year.

heh.  So this happened.

damn right.

(via ryangoslingrollerderby)

So yeah, I’m pretty much obsessed with this here tumblr.  Joel HATES rink stink so I think I’m going to go out with Ryan Gosling instead.

You’re damn right.

(via fuckyeahrollergirls)

I feel honored to have played members of this year’s WFTDA Championship winning team.  They deserve it - they’re every bit as amazing as they looked on the TV feed.  :)

The follow-up to the short story - what happened in the 10 seconds after I got lead jammer.  I screamed, I screamed some more, and then I promptly called off the jam.  From the floor, because Bonnie schooled my ass.  I didn’t even make it back around the track.

It was awesome.

(These pictures also belong to Sean Hale.)

I guess I took a few months to talk about this bout because I still hold this moment so close to my heart.

I’ve alluded to this a little bit before but my pre-bout anxiety can be crippling.  Over the last two years, this lack of self-esteem on the track can be wildly unpredictable.  I find that I actually play best when I just mentally assume that we will lose the game because of my actions (or lack thereof) and silently accept that outcome - it takes off the pressure.  The morning of the 2010 BDD Championship, my tough-love boyfriend dragged me out of bed by my ankles while I sobbed that I didn’t want to skate against the Cosmos.  That is not an exaggeration, that is quite literally what happened.  Maybe it’s funny when we bring it up now, knowing that we won the game.  But I was clawing frantically at the sheets, openly begging for him not to take me to Shriners’ Auditorium.  I was so sure that the gnawing, stabbing feeling in my gut was just a precursor to my extra-clumsy performance and the end of our undefeated season.  I convinced myself that I would lose the game, that my teammates would be disappointed in me.

This year, my team was invited to play the Manhattan Mayhem.  My teammates were so excited!  I was apathetic, because I knew I couldn’t handle the pressure and thereby did not sign up to skate.  My teammates pestered me until the very last second when my captain, Anita Bangher, insisted that I man up with this piece of wisdom - “Fear is what will hold you back.”  There is no argument in response to that.  I begrudgingly said yes.  The knowledge that I now had to skate against NY sat in my stomach at all times, as if I had swallowed a stone.

Heading down to NY to play the Gotham Girls, we knew there was no way we’d come out with a victory.  While as a team we accepted this challenge knowing we’d be better skaters for it (relevant: Dutchland controversy), I think a few of my teammates were really chomping at the bit to see how they matched up.  Me?  Just make with the beatings and move along, nothing to see here.  When we did our entrance and the crowd booed us wildly, I practically nodded in agreement.  I honestly believed that it was going to go so extremely poorly and I would be a spectacular letdown to my awesome, fearless, amazing teammates.  (I hold my teammates in the absolute highest regard - to let them down is almost unthinkable.  But I couldn’t stop thinking it.)

And then, somehow, a miracle happened.  Anne Frankenstein and I fist-bumped on the jammer line, and I started to realize that maybe things wouldn’t be so bad.  My brain convinced itself that I was a little bit lighter, a little bit more agile, and a little less afraid than I really was.  A few times where I broke through the pack, I stared in disbelief behind me.  I had been too busy picking out my coffin to allow for the possibility that things might not be so bad.  

The Pissahs game was extremely tough, but in the last jam we managed to score 10 points thanks to penalties on the Mayhem.  The Pissahs cheered, hugged, and high-fived each other like we’d won the game.  Even the crowd cheered for us - I think we’d won them over by being the obvious underdogs.  

Back in the dressing room, we had only a few gasps of air before we went back out on the track as the Boston Blackouts, a made-up team that included Craisy Dukes from Providence and a few Boston Massacre players.  Let me state here and now that I have never, before or since, played two bouts in a row.  Perhaps that contributed to my fatalistic outlook from the start, perhaps it was just icing on the cake.  I threw on my jersey, exhausted, and went back out to skate.  I expected nothing of myself.  There were no sports hype talks like you see in Gatorade commercials, no positive energy running through my body.  In fact, I don’t think there was really any energy at all. I felt like I had given it my all in the first game… and what if I didn’t have anything left?

The game was going pretty much the same as the first until the moment I was sent out on the jam line with Bonnie Thunders.  To say I have immense respect for her abilities is an understatement.  Bonnie is incredible to watch and I’m 85% sure she’s a robot.  Or Gumby.  Or a Gumby robot.  On the jam line I always fist-bump my opponents or tell them good luck.  I was frozen in place next to Bonnie and I was sure she didn’t even know I was there.  I somehow managed to suppress my urge to yell BONNIE YOU ARE AMAZING HOLY CRAP HELLO HI I’M STICKY.  But the bout went on, I continued playing, and I didn’t have time to think about it again.   

Somewhere in the middle of the bout I lined up against Bonnie again.  I remember looking at her - okay, probably openly staring - and thinking that I only had to skate for two more minutes before I could sit down again, because I was pretty tired at this point.  I stared forward at the pack and watched them position themselves.  I heard the whistles and sprinted forward.  And then, well - and then this happened.

(This picture belongs to Sean Hale, not me.)

That’s me, screaming at the top of my lungs.  You see, after this insane and incredible journey, after hating and doubting myself to the edge of the Earth and back, I had just been declared lead jammer against Bonnie Thunders.