Preface: this is a Warhammer-free post.

I’m writing this because a few  of people tagged me on Facebook for Derby Syphillis or something. To quote the activity, “Once you’ve been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals that roller derby has added to your life.”  I’m also writing this as a reminder to myself of how far I’ve come, and to freshmeat skaters of how far they can go.

Look in the back - that's me running on my toestops. Courtesy of Anthony Canada

I’m going to preface all of this by saying that unlike other gals I happened to benchmark with, I am not a natural skater. For the longest time I was afraid of falling, afraid of the speed, afraid of skating too close to other people and pretty much afraid of my own shadow on skates.

I’ve said it on this blog before (albeit in a different context): it is in adverse situations that you improve.

This is a post about success, and how the path to it is riddled with moments that feel like  failure.

Ten facts about my own derby career that will continue to humble me as I progress through this sport:

1. The first time I went to RDRDA’s freshmeat practice, I’m pretty sure I was on the ground more than I was on my skates.
2. The second time I went to freshmeat practice, I was standing still and sprained my ankle falling backwards. I was out for 3 weeks. I was  embarrassed.
3. The first time Gunpowder Gertie (yes, Team Canada Gunpowder Gertie) coached a freshmeat session, my legs completely and utterly failed me such that I couldn’t even stand up halfway through practice. I was really embarrassed.
4. At the first derby bootcamp I attended, I had Bonnie D. Stoir give me the following one-on-one advice: get a new helmet. She was teaching hitting and we were doing sumo drills (girls starting back to back and turning to hit each other until one fell over or went out of bounds). I had just taken a HUGE hit that sent me flying backwards, had me hit my head pretty hard on the concrete floor and and caused my toestop to go flying out. Yes, I got hit that hard. I was so utterly embarrassed.
5. The first time I tried to benchmark (with Chinook City, since they wanted me to participate in their scrimmages at their practices instead of me practicing my T and plow stops on the side of the gym) I didn’t come close to getting my 25 laps in 5 minutes.
6. The second time I tried to benchmark (with RDRDA at Skate & Destroy) I came close to failing because I just barely could  nail my T-stop or plow stop (which I had been doing with my eyes shut entire bootcamp the day before).
7. The first bout I played in, I can’t really recall what happened. There are, however, pictures on Facebook of me going into hit a someone with my EYES FIRMLY SHUT. And since it’s Facebook, those pictures will never come down.
8. The first time I showed up to RDRDA league practice after benchmarking, I took a fall so bad (trying to skate backwards, no less) that despite immediately standing up (as is my instinct when on the ground) I couldn’t stay standing as Razor was explaining the next drill.  I couldn’t even make it to the chair to give myself some time and space to compose myself  - I had to get wheeled to the side by my husband.
9. When doing my first scrimmage-like drill, I lost control of my own skating and took out another skater (Sweet Pea) pretty friggin’ hard – as in, possible concussion hard. The thought of possibly injuring another skater is a thought that will forever haunt me. It’s actually the thing I’m afraid of the most.
10. The first time I skated at Chinook City’s freshmeat practice (as a benchmarked skater, no less)  I took a fall so hard that I have whiplash  and I pulled my quad.

And ten truths about me and my relationship with derby:

1. I try to compensate for my lack of skills by buying better gear. Wheels, plates, boots.  I am a gearwhore, but I know that none of it actually will make up for a lack of skill.
2. The only gear purchase that I made appropriate for my skill level were my Crashpads and 187 Killer Pro Knees.
3. The only reason why I know how to running toe starts is because I’m always on the ground and trying to catch up to the pack.
4. I have to work for each skill.  Nothing comes natural to me on skates.
5. Driving 90 minutes (180 minutes round trip) to Red Deer for freshmeat practice every week gave me a lot of time to contemplate  whether or not I wanted to do this. Turns out I do.
6. Derby has allowed me to meet strong, confident, self-sufficient women that I actually get along with. I’ve never been able to do that anywhere else.
7. I love derby homework. I’ll read the rules until the cows come home. I’ll watch bouts over and over online to figure out what each player was doing well and what they weren’t. I feel like I’m bringing the Asian student stereotype back.
8. Derby has weight in family planning decisions.
9. I recognize that I may never be great at derby. Maybe it’s because of my personality (I tend to undersell myself, in general). My goals will always remain skill-based (currently: jumping tomahawk stops). Making it onto specific teams is too close to comparing myself against others that I don’t let myself go down that road.
10. While I recognize my struggles make me better, I’m working on getting my daughter on skates early. If she ever wants to do derby, I’d like her to avoid some of the struggles I’m going through.

And here are 5 personal and universal truths about derby:

1. Freshmeat is the worst time to compare your skills to that of others. It’s like comparing relative development of children under the age of five.  By the time they’re all five, they’re pretty much back on even ground. Or at least more even. Same goes for derby. Who knows what I’ll look like on my skates after five years.
2. If I ever compared my skill level to that of other people around me I would have quit ages ago.
3. A great skate tech is to a skater what a great mechanic is to a race car driver. If the driver sucks, there’s nothing a mechanic can do, but  as your skills grow, the magic a good skate tech can work will bring out the best in you.
4. As with all things in life, there is no “right way” or “wrong way”. Just “a way that works” and “a way that doesn’t work”. Definitive answers are for fanatics – religious or otherwise.
5. My self-critical nature is going to be my best asset and worst enemy as I continue my journey. It’ll ensure I’m keenly aware of areas for improvement, but may blind me from what I’ve accomplished.  That’s my struggle.

And there you have it. My derby journey, condensed in 25 points.