Falling Small

I fell down recently.

Not a graceful pretty fall. Not an epic comical fall. A big, stupid, ugly fall.

I had placed a large box containing a heavy bookcase in my small office at the bottom of the stairs. "I'll deal with you later," I promised it. Not a half hour later, I carried an armful of shoes down the same stairs, and crossed the room to my bedroom door to put them away.

In my path was that box.

I hit it midstride, and sprawled across the floor, shoes flying. whomp. I screamed as I fell. "Are you OK?" Tj called from up the stairs. "Nooooo" I called back, as I rolled off my right arm onto my arm and starred at the ceiling. I took the entire weight of my fall in my right shoulder. A few weeks later, it's still jacked up.

You'd think after six months of roller derby, I'd know how to fall.

Earlier this year, I watched a friend experience personal tragedy. You could almost watch the shift of earth underneath her. For several days, she seemed wobbly. Unstable. As if at any moment that final piece of rug was going to be pulled out, and she'd go down.

Isn't it amazing, life's ability to take us out at the knees?



When I tell people I joined roller derby, they always express interest, and then fear — Oh, I always thought that looks like fun, they say, but I'd fall down. 

Well yeah, that's kind of the point. But we spend a lot of time learning how to fall down.

You fall small. That's the goal. If you're going down, fall forward. Hit a knee. Curl into a ball. Protect your fingers. If the track is busy, wait for the pack to pass you. Wait until you can get up safely.

You never want to fall big. You never want to do on the track what I did on the floor of my house — go flying, arms and legs like a mangled starfish. Don't absorb your fall with your wrists, your arms. Don't expose your appendages to nearby wheels.

So we practice falling small. We hit the track on whistle blows, one knee at a time. We practice becoming a hedgehog on wheels. We let our kneepads take the blow. We protect our head. We tuck our fingers.

We learn about "Barbie hands" — fingers together, thumbs out — that way if you fall and you are bracing with another skater, you aren't gripping her body and pulling her with you.

We don't want to hurt ourselves. But, as importantly, we don't want to hurt our sisters. Don't take anyone down with you. Contain the fall to yourself, if you can.

Today, I reached my emotional limit. A collection of small things and little stresses and illness and hormones and feeling tired finally hit me like a big brick about 4:30 p.m. I sat at my desk, a project file open, and I cried a little. And then I told my derby coach, "I don't think I can make it tonight."

I could see the fall coming. So instead, I'm taking a knee tonight. I'm giving my emotions a moment to sit and be emotional. I'm having an extra snuggle with my sick kiddo. I'm doing a face mask. I'm getting a little caught up from the day. I'm getting a little ahead for tomorrow.

Derby has helped me know my limits. It's helped me push them. It's helped me trust my instincts, and my body. I know my body will be there for me, that it will help me accomplish things I never thought possible. And I'm grateful.

Life can be a poorly placed box. It can unexpectedly hit you, and, full stride, you hit the floor. And that's when I need my derby lessons.

Fall small. Protect yourself. Know when you're at your limit. Look for pieces of yourself that might be poking out. Take time to care for you.

Fall small. Don't take someone down with you. Don't let your mistakes become others'. Don't let your drama spill out, or hurt those you care about.

Fall small. Take a moment to recover. Sometimes, it's OK to to let the pack pass you. Wait until it's safe before you get up. Don't get up too early — you could hurt yourself, or someone else. Take the time you need.

Fall small. You don't always see it coming, but sometimes you can anticipate the fall. Get down before it takes you down. Avoid the obstacle, if you can.

Fall small. When you do have to fall, fall forward.

And above all, when you fall — get back up.