Done and Done.

I MADE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Tryouts

After a ridiculously long Sunday (honestly, there were 42 hours in this day), I drove myself down to the hangar for tryouts,  blasting "Defying Gravity," of course.   I was worried I would be too early.  But, as Sister Pat from St. Mary's said, "To be early is to be on time."  There were about 20 other skaters there (mind you, this is a good 45 minutes before tryouts were to begin).  I felt really good about what to expect since the last two Wreckers practices were designed to prepare us for tryouts.
In total, there were about fifty women trying out.  Once we got started, things went pretty quickly.  I kept focusing on a sign that hangs in the hangar: "Win this moment."
I did my very best. As I type this entry, I am waiting for my phone call telling me if I made it onto Fresh Meat or not.  Dude.

C!

After a ridiculously long week, Friday finally arrived.  Was my excitement about the fact that I have two weeks off of school?  Absolutely not.  All that was on my mind was Wreckers, my derby test and Sunday's tryouts.  In order to scrimmage, all players have to score over 70% on a written test which covers the official women's flat track derby rule book.  For about the last two weeks, I read and reread the rule book (which is about 40 pdf pages). I was going to be taking the test at some point during practice on Friday night.  Practice began with the leaders asking for a show of hands for which skaters were planning on trying out on Sunday.  I raised my hand, along with 95% of the rest of the group.  Gulp.  The leaders then told us that they would be running a mock tryout, so we could have a general idea of what to expect on Sunday.  I was thrilled.  Having only been to a handful of practices, I certainly don't know all there is to know about derby.  Since I am such a novice, my biggest fear about tryouts has been them asking us to demonstrate a skill that I had never heard of-much less tried.  The "tryout" was surprisingly short, as it consisted of only three different drills, and I was familiar with all they asked us to do.  They gave the group some excellent tips about specific skill demonstration and the basics on how to present yourself.
After the mock-tryout portion of the practice was over, those who were taking the written test were called over.  I can't remember the last time I took a multiple choice test.  Maybe it was my driver's test when I moved to Oregon?  I didn't have to take a single test in grad school that wasn't an essay.  The test was harrrrrd.  For example:
Which of the following is considered a minor penalty?
a. cutting the track in front of the opposing team's blocker in the back of the pack
b.  cutting the track in front of the opposing team's jammer in the front of the pack
c. cutting the track in front of the blocker that initiated the block which knocked the skate out of bounds in the first place
d. a and b
e. all of the above.
f. none of the above
g. these are all major penaltys
h. you are an idiot and don't know this answer
Ok, I exaggerated a bit after e.

I finished the 40-question test and got back on the track, convinced that I would NEVER be able scrimmage after taking that test.  One of the other skaters who was talking smack to me last practice (in a good way) resolved to just call me "Winter Sports" from now on, as she somehow became aware of my ice skating background.  Previously, when she was trying to knock me out or catch up to me, she would say "*&%*^% ---*%$#@$ you ice-skating *#%#@!"  Now it is:  "*&%*^% ---*%$#@$ Winter Sports!"

Practice concluded with a rousing game of freeze-tag which is about the most fun thing in the world.  I sat down, absolutely exhausted and peeled my gear off.  On my way out of the hangar, I stopped by the table and asked Avenging Angel, the admin. for Wreckers, if she happened to have graded my test.  She dug through the pile and pulled out my scoresheet.  75%, baby!  Hot diggity dog!

T - 1 week and counting

After a no-skating weekend, I was counting the hours to this weekend when I could skate not just once, but twice, AND try out my new wheels.  On Friday night I had to exercise major restraint since Bennett had a variety show at school at 5:30, and practice started at 6.  Naturally, I had my derby clothes already on, but I camouflaged my getup with boots over my striped socks and a long sweater to cover the rest.  If I had break-away pants, I would have worn them.  Once I got to practice, I was so jazzed to get my new wheels on the track; I couldn't lace up fast enough. The wheels were all I thought they would be and more.  I actually can't believe that I didn't kill myself in the previous two practices with those other wheels.  Not only can I control myself a million times better, I can also FLY.  It felt amazing.  The rest of the practice was awesome. Great skating aside, nothing could top the highlight of my night: when another skater asked me if I was the transfer derby-girl from Texas.  I restrained an outburst of "No, but YEEHAW and thanks for asking!!!" and politely said I wasn't.  After Wreckers, RCR was holding tryouts for the traveling team. It was a hilarious juxtaposition: the best of the best Rose City Rollers warming up around the track while the Wreckers played derby freeze-tag on the track.  I love it!

Saturday's practice went just as great.  We did some super-fun drills, one of which was pretty similar to an actual scrimmage.  Turns out, nothing can beat the thrill of being the jammer.  It was exhilarating.

Tryouts are one week away, and I think I am ready. Who knows if I'll make it-or even if I'll come close.  I am just thrilled to try, and if I'm not what they are looking for, I'll always have a place on Wreckers.

Fueling the fire

Last weekend, much to my dismay, we didn't have Wreckers on Friday night because there was a bout at the hangar. I decided to turn my frown upside down, and I recruited my good pal Kelly to join me in checking it out.  We didn't have tickets and the event was sold out,  so we stood outside in the cold hoping someone would come along with spare tickets to sell.  Luck was in our favor!  We got tickets AND front-row seats.  For the next two hours, we were in roller derby heaven, complete with tall-boy cans of PBR.  It was so much fun. Watching a for-reals bout of derby only fueled the already-blazing fire of my derby desire. Good thing I had that PBR to put it out.

Luposlipophobia

After that first practice, and after thinking about roller derby nonstop all week, I returned the following Saturday to the hangar.  I was bound and determined to catch the nuances of all of the drills, making sure not to blatantly violate any rules.  I was still slightly mortified about the panty incident. (In my head as I walked in: "Here comes that girl who thought she could steal the panty.") Once I got out there on the track, I felt great--well, with the exception of one problem: the wheels on my skates are not designed for derby tracks; they are made for the standard wood floor of typical roller rinks.  Why is that a problem?  My wheels don't grip the floor-----at all.  They slide instead.  The sensation of sliding reminded me of a Far Side cartoon that describes Luposlipophobia: the fear of being chased by timberwolves around a kitchen table whilst wearing socks on a newly-polished floor.  Just make those socks roller skates and you can picture how that doesn't work so well.  I remedied the problem today when I revisited the Oaks Park pro shop and scored me some fancy new wheels which are designed especially for derby tracks.  Goodbye timberwolves.

Don't steal the panty

Here is what I saw when I walked into the hangar: about 15 people skating on the flat track, about ten more getting their gear on, and a girl sitting at table with a laptop open.  I quickly deduced that the person I should talk to was the one with the laptop.  I was right.  After filling out a lengthy waiver and writing a check for derby insurance, I was strapping on my many pads and lacing up my skates.  I giddily took to the track, which feels nothing like a smooth wood rink floor.  The track is basically connected squares of plastic with a raised inner and outer loop marker. Since it is way slipperier than what I was used to, it took me a couple laps around to get my bearings. Once I did, though, it felt gooooood.  The first part of the practice consisted of drills-many of which involved intentionally falling and getting up.  Oy vey. The only thing I was having problems with was that around the bends of the loop (the apex), I kept slipping sideways.  After struggling with it for a while, I finally asked one of the coaches.  She asked me if I had loosened my truck. My response: "What's a truck?"  She sat me down, grabbed a tool and explained that basically I was driving a car with wheels locked in forward position.  Once the "truck" is loosened, the wheels can move side to side, like turning the steering wheel on a car.  Again, once I got back out on the track, it took some getting used to, but it was MUCH better than before.  After about an hour of drills, the coaches announced that we would be splitting into teams to run a drill similar to "keep-away."  One of the coaches, brought out what she called a "panty," which I think was similar to cheerleading spanks.  Here is what I heard: "The goal of your team is to get the panty."  She then went on to explain that if you knock the player with the panty out of play, then your team got the panty.  The team with the panty's goal was to pass it around to other teammates as much as they could, while trying not to have it "taken away."  I decided to watch a round before I actually played since this was the closest I had come to anything similar to derby.  After the first round, I decided to join.  I felt pretty good!  I was getting in the pack, weaving around, blocking, hitting (with hips), and I even managed a couple of times to get in there and take the panty out of the hands of the holder.  It wasn't until I was watching the other teams play, when our team was done, that I understood that the ONLY way to change possession of the panty was to knock the player with the panty out of bounds-----no one else was trying to steal the panty.  Oops.

The practice ended with a test over derby rules. I didn't even attempt it since I have absolutely no idea what the rules are.  In order to scrimmage as a Wrecker, you have to score a certain percentage on this exam.  I found out where to download the official rules, took off my gear, packed up and left.

Here are a couple of things I learned at this, my first "real" derby experience:
1. Based on how sweaty and stinky I was and the four days of sore muscles which followed, this is an incredible workout.
2. a. There is such thing as at truck. b. It should be loosened.
3. You are not supposed to steal the panty.
4. I can NOT wait to do this again.

"...'till I try, I'll never know..."

I had ants in my pants all day on Friday.  I think I checked the RCR website about 12 times to make sure that Wreckers started at 6.  Should I get there early to fill out the paperwork? What if I am too early?  Can I print out and complete the paperwork in advance?  What should I wear?  Is it cold in the hangar?  Should I eat before I go?  What the hell am I doing?
I managed to remain outwardly casual about the whole thing and even waited to get ready until the very last second.  Matt helped me mold my mouthguard-he actually arrived home before I did and had the water boiling, instructions out, and slotted spoon ready when I walked in the door.   Awww.  If that ain't love...
With my bag of gear and donning my striped knee-highs, I drove myself the one mile to the hangar.  I knew I needed a little extra courage, so I cued up one of my favorite go-get-'em songs: "Defying Gravity." The drive is so damn short that I had to sit in the parking lot to hear the end of the song.  It's that close.  After a quick "here I go!" text to my girl in San Diego, I took a deep breath, boldly opened the car door, grabbed my bag and walked in.

Protective Gear

I have absolutely no idea if I will stand a chance at tryouts.  I don't even know what I need to know to try out.  What I do know is that I  need some protective gear for both tryouts and Wreckers, so the day before I was to join Wreckers, I went back, again, to the Oaks Park pro shop.  This time the shop was less crowded, it wasn't nearly as hot, and I was feeling a bit more confident.  I remained cool and collected until two derby girls walked in.  Dammit Janet.

Tableau: Me in my post-work teacher clothes,  bribing Bennett to behave with Halloween candy, standing at the small counter while unsuccessfully holding  (more frequently dropping) ginormous knee pads, wrist guards, elbow pads and a mouthgard.  Enter two clearly seasoned veterans of the Rose City Rollers.  Which one is not like the other one?
After a few moments, one of them said to me, "Looks like someone is starting Derby!"  They introduced themselves and talked to me about things I can't remember now.  I think I mumbled a few times about how excited I was between my nervous laughs.  They were super-nice.  So much for cool and collected.

The Plan

As any smart mother who was granted a Saturday-night hall pass from her supportive husband would do, I joined Trish for a post-Derby-class cocktail at Vault.   While we broke down our experience, I realized that: a. I absolutely love the whole derby experience and b. I wanted more.  Later that evening, I made a plan.  I would join Wreckers (the recreational team) the following Friday night, learn more about how to play and work on skills at their practices,  and then try out for the Fresh Meat program, from which you are drafted for actual teams, at their next tryouts on December 19th.  As I went to bed that night with my plan and visions of striped socks and helmets dancing in my head, I was elated.  In the morning, joy was replaced with ache since my inner thighs hadn't gotten that kind of a workout since the early '90s.

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y Night!

The day of derby class had arrived, and my new skates and I went down to the rink early so we could check each other out.  For anyone not familiar with Oaks Park's rink, it is this terrific old-school roller rink that is part of Oaks Amusement Park, one of the 10 oldest amusement parks in the US. The park sits on what was once a peninsula in the Willamette River. The place is fantastic. I laced up my skates and took a few laps around.  Before I knew it, my heart-rate was racing, and apparently, so was I.  One of the rink attendants told me to slow down. It was awwwwesome.  Open skate was coming to an end and derby class participants were taking the floor. I noticed that they all were wearing proper gear, while I only sported a helmet.  I skated over to the pro shop ready to drop some money for my own safety and discovered bins full of gear to borrow.  Hot dog.  Trish showed up a few minutes later, and for the next hour, the two of us worked our butts off-literally. How can you not work your butt off when you are simultaneously squatting and skating for an hour? We learned some of the basics: how to fall, how to block, how to hit.  It. Was. So. Fun.

I've got a brand new pair of roller skates.

On Veteran's Day, the Thursday before my inaugural derby experience, I decided to head down to the Oaks Park pro shop to check out the skate selection.  For the derby class, you don't need to bring your own pads, etc, and you can just rent skates.  That said, I felt like I needed a bigger commitment to this whole idea, and to myself; I thought an investment would do the trick.  Walking into the rink, I was nerrrrvous.  I guess when I am serious about something, I am serious, and pretty intense. I didn't want to come off like some amateur-which, ironically, (aside from many years of figure skating) I am.  The shop was packed since kids were out of school for the day, and since the space is about 100 square feet, and since I had my puffy coat on which was making me sweat, and since there were a few derby-girls in there, and since no one had helped me after about ten minutes, and since I was super-intimidated, I left.
Driving home, I was so disappointed.  When was the last time I took a risk and put myself out there? I am so comfortable in my regular routine with people I know, doing things I am sure of.  Anything else is just plain scary.
I woke up the next morning committed to trying again.  What is so funny is the night before, I had crazy-vivid dreams about buying skates and trying them out.  I decided that after work, and before going to get Bennett from school, I would drive myself straight across the Sellwood Bridge and march myself right into that pro shop and buy some damn skates.  Which I did. And when I got home after getting the kids, I wore them around the house for the rest of the night.

Ooooh---

I've got a brand new pair of roller skates 
You've got a brand new key
I think that we should get together and
Try them on to see
I been lookin' around awhile
You got something for me
Oh, I got a brand new pair of roller skates
You got a brand new key

Next to Normal

Just under three weeks ago, the wholelotta stress came to an abrupt end and life suddenly returned to normal---scratch that and insert Broadway tune, "I don't need a life that's normal, that's way too far away, but something next to normal would be ok." Life suddenly returned to next to normal and I found myself taking slow drive-bys of the RCR hangar.  Not really, but I did find myself thinking about my need for 1. a distraction, 2. something to motivate me to get back to the gym, and 3. the amorphous something. It is not often, or ever, really, when I don't have a project of some sort.  I learned this past spring that it is NOT good for me to not have something to work towards (shout out to Jen Cavanaugh and Kelly Elliott for helping me figure that out.) So, I decided to go for it; I texted my pal Trish and made a plan to partake in the Saturday night Beginning Derby class at Oaks Park Roller Rink (not the hangar...yet).

Dream Deferred.

My plan was to wait until school started when our non-summer routine was up and running.   That would give me plenty of time to get skates, pads, mouthguard, etc.  I learned that Rose City Rollers has a recreational league called Wreckers (of course) that practices a couple of times a week, and you can join anytime throughout the year.  It sounded perfect, but then came Fall 2010. For about 8 weeks, my dreams of derby were put on hold and were replaced with a wholelotta stress.  Ugh.  

Something?

Sometime around the middle of last summer I got to thinking that I needed something else in my life.  I don't really know why since a family and a full-time job is typically plenty to keep a girl busy. We had just settled into our new house, and life was taking on a lovely stability. Still, I just felt like I needed something for me.  I saw how so many of my friends have something.  I thought about trying out for a local play.  Since fourth grade when I was not cast as Annie in the St. Patrick's school production, I have always visualized the redemption of me in a red wig, red dress and black patent leather mary-janes standing in the middle of a stage belting out "Tomorrow." Since I am 37, and there are probably no productions that cast Annie over 15 years of age because wouldn't work and it might be creepy, I knew that dream couldn't be realized. Plus I don't think I know how to act, so there's that.   I have tried running and have been sort-of successful, but I could never really love it. My typical running experience consisted of me thinking about when it would be over the entire time.  I think I ran faster so I could get it over with sooner.  I like to cook, and was briefly inspired when I saw Julie and Julia since her need for the nebulous something paralleled mine.  But while I like to cook, I am not passionate about it; I don't get butterflies from cooking. And then out of the blue, it dawned on me during one of the many summer Tuesday and Wednesdays mornings I spent with Leo and Bennett at Oaks Park's Chipper's preschool morning fun.  In the midst of the all-you-can-carnival-ride-for-6-dollars event, while spinning on the upside of the Tilt-a-Whirl, the world suddenly turned to slow motion as I saw the gleaming white hangar structure in Oak's Park parking lot. The hangar bears the bad-ass two-fisted logo of the Rose City Rollers. Bingo. There's my something.