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This isn't a surprise, but derby is hard. Heck, most things that are really cool in life are hard. That's why you work and practice at them. If it were easy, everyone would do it. Today was the final official practice of the 2012-2013 Debs. I was definitely teary-eyed by the end of it.
Last week we didn't have our regular practice because we had no space to work in. Originally, I was going to have to miss this practice as I had work scheduled at the same time as practice. Instead of regular practice, we went to one of the local roller rinks and skated around for a couple of hours. Some coaches showed up and helped us with questions we had. I'd been struggling with one skill on one side, but as soon as I showed it to the coach, I was able to do it. Go figure.
I really learned recently that I need to take care of myself better and part of doing that is going skating. It does mean carving out time whenever I can to do it though the weather we've been having this spring has delayed the start of outdoor skating.
So it was very important to me that I make practice this week. I even asked to not work the show today. I don't do that unless it's really, really important.
It was a hard practice. Hanna didn't take it easy on us just because it was the last practice. Part of me for some reason anticipated a similar feel to the last day of school in the pre-college years where you have fun but don't accomplish much. I was happily wrong on this count.
We all have different ideas of what hell is like and I don't mean in the Biblical sense. I'm thinking more of the thing that pushes you to a point of agony. Normally, this is a show with a dance floor and a lot of glitter and feathers. Today was it's own special version of hell. It's called 10 Minutes of Hell. We sprint. For 10 minutes. Without stopping. And it sucks. The body doesn't like to be pushed. My husband, before I met him, wrote a brilliant blog post that starts with the following: "Exercise doesn't make you tired. That's your mind giving up because your body is uncomfortable." It's normal to feel uncomfortable when you are pushing yourself hard. It's also normal to give up. What's incredible is pushing through the pain, the shortness of breath and continuing to move. It's incredible to be in the mindset where you fall but you automatically get back up and start sprinting again. It helps having a bunch of fellow athletes cheering you on when you stumble and those voices help to strengthen the internal one that keeps you moving. There was a time where I would have fallen and struggled to get back up and would have given up. Today, I am no longer that person. I fell twice during the 10 Minutes of Hell and got back up and started sprinting right away. I doubt I ever got my speed back up to where it had been as it was past the halfway mark that I fell the first time but I didn't give up.
After that, we had a lot of fun. There was jumping over giant cones on their side, which I'd never had the chance to do before. It was harder than I thought it would be but it was a lot of fun.
Towards the end we split into our 3 groups. It's amazing how few of us there are who aren't scrimmage ready! We had a lot of fun in the purple group, working on pushing through blockers. I learned a lot and feel really good. It's the closest I've been to playing derby. I've got a long way to go still but I know that I'm on the right track.
At the end, we all gathered together and mentioned something that we were proud of for the day or the session. I'm....overwhelmed with the beyond-amazingness of the women I skate with (yes, I made up a word). One had just finished chemotherapy in December and was in the purple group with me today. Another was just re-learning how to walk a year ago. I'm inspired by those I watch as I skate. One of the coaches, Jo I believe, mentioned that as we are all in our own heads thinking about how much we suck, we're an inspiration to everyone else as we get up and keep pushing. Hearing the hard things that these others have gone through makes me feel like my issues and struggles aren't that big of a deal. Of course, maybe they feel that way if they knew everything that I've had to struggle with. This is the point that I got teary-eyed. I interjected with a statement about how awesome everyone is for being there and trying even if they fall and how they make me feel like if they can deal with their stuff, then I can deal with mine. If it had been possible, I would have hugged every single person there today. I'm horrible with names or even recognizing people out of gear but they are all amazing. I'm proud and humbled to know the women that I do from skating with Debs. It's amazing to watch some of them now skating on the league. If you had told me 3 years ago that I would love knowing these women (I have a history of not getting on well with women; I don't tend to understand them and to be extremely intimidated by them) and that I'd be an athlete, I wouldn't have believed you. I'm proud to be an athlete and I know that it's not just about competing but about a lifestyle change, which is a process and it's one that I can tell I'm still in the midst of doing. And it's worth it.
So what's on the other side of hell and pain? Amazing love and joy. I thank God that He has given me a body that is capable of doing this mind-blowing things on skates and that He has led me to a place where I feel safe to struggle knowing that I will be encouraged and not put down.
