"Watching roller derby. You'd be good at this."It was a random text from my brother. He doesn't talk much, so when I get a text from him, it's usually something pretty important. He was watching a roller derby, one of their Delaware leagues against Wilkes-Barre. Delaware lost. He continued to send a few, mostly when someone with a cool name came on the screen (#88 Flux Decapitator, whoever you are, I have some serious respect).
I'm 30 years old. I'm getting married next month. I work as a legal secretary for a health system, I'm 60 pounds overweight (which is better than the 85 pounds overweight that I used to be). I play a lot of video games, write a lot (hence, blog) and I've tried every bit of exercise I can find.
At first, the exercise thing start because I wanted to lose weight to fit in my wedding dress. Turns out, diet and pounding water did most of the work for me. I got into a lot of things, but nothing really stuck. Tai kwon do was my favorite, but I couldn't afford the monthly fee. Then came regular workouts (read: OH GOD KILL ME NOW kinda boring) and then running. Truth be told, I do want to run more, but the boredom is a little too intense.
What I learned, and sorta knew all along, that I don't do exercise for the sake of exercise. I needed a sport. I did basketball before, I wasn't interested in a baseball league and let's face it, I spend way too much on my nails to do football.
But roller derby?
The truth is that when I was a kid, I LOVED skating. I breathed it. I dragged my poor brother with me. I went with friends. I skated for hours. I wouldn't say I was great at it, but I could at least get on a rink, go about in circles and chat it up. That was when I was a teenager, way too thin and had the muscle memory of the gods. Now? Aren't I too old to go to roller rinks?
Then I watched some roller rink videos. Most chicks were my age or just a hair younger. Many were older. One woman was in her mid-sixties. Okay, so that excuse was out. Next, teenagers. Teenagers use skating rinks as social cesspools or places to make-out when their folks aren't around. My brain turned into a hissing snake and I put my index fingers in crosses to keep them away.
Oh wait. Rinks have adult nights. When they don't have adult nights, they have slow nights. Friday and Saturday nights won't be skate nights. Okay, so that excuse left too.
Next, and this was the big one, I haven't actually skated since I was 17 or so. And I wasn't award winning then either. I couldn't skate backwards and I just mastered crossovers. And that was when I had the spongy brain that absorbed and adapted way better than 30-year-old, mostly-fat brain.
All this thinking got me excited. I work a hectic job and usually, the last thing I want to do is drive through traffic to go exercise. But I drove through horrible traffic to get to a dumpy rink (because aren't they all dumpy?) and lace up some skates that were cheaper to rent than my lunch.
Now, let me tell you. I was awful. There actually isn't a word in the English language to describe how awful I was. I lost my balance standing still. I had to skate on the carpet (which looking back at it, hindered me more than it helped) for half the time, because I could barely move without feeling like I was going to fall backwards.
But once I got my courage, I went on the rink. I was one of the worst out there. Children skated better. Teenagers skated better. Even a few adults there just smiled and looked at me in pity. But I kept pushing forward. My knees finally began to bend, I was able to get myself to move and every inch was a moment of terror. I was constantly flailing, trying not to fall. I keep chanting, "forward, forward" to both keep momentum and if I was going to fall, I would've rather gone forward and caught myself on my knee, instead of fracturing my tailbone.
Forty minutes later, I was exhausted. My back hurt from the compensation for balance. My calves ached, my thighs were burning and my ankles throbbed. Forty minutes was enough.
And I freaking loved it. The stress of my job was completely forgotten. My muscles were sore, but the endorphins were in high gear. I was sweaty as hell (reminder: don't wear a sweater to the rink) and utterly exhausted. And my brain was starving: YOU MOVED. YOU DID THINGS. HERE, FEEL GOOD ABOUT YOURSELF.
I'm hoping this is something that will stick. Truth be told, this may be like the rest: super fun at first and then boring. And I may not make it. I may never be a derby girl (there's lots to consider there) but skating felt freeing, in those few minutes I got to daydream while on the rink.
I'm going tomorrow. Moving on wheels is so much better than pounding pavement.
