Skating Through to Victory

I fell at practice last night. An epic fall. A full-speed, around a corner, ended up backward on my back fall.

It was a great fall.

It was also a devastating fall.

It was devastating because I was in the midst of being on pace to finally — finally — break my yearlong plateau of 22 laps in 5 minutes. I was mentally prepared. I was as physically prepared as I could be at this moment in my journey. I pushed.

I fell.

The goal of hitting 27 laps in 5 minutes (the dreaded "27/5") hangs over the heads of all but the most quick-footed skaters. It feels at times an impossible task. And it is a barrier that can keep skaters from passing the required minimum skills and being roster-eligible.

And that's the real problem here.

There's a bout on March 7. A B-level bout. (I can skate B bouts!) And it's in Pullman. And every fiber of my being wants to be there. But, I'm coming to realize, not necessarily for the best reasons.

I want to skate in that bout because I think I can. I also want to skate in that bout because it feels like a proof point. I broke down in tears over the weekend worrying about my laps, and sobbed to my spouse, this bout isn't just a bout. It's like being the pretty popular girl at the party while your ex-boyfriend stands alone in a corner.

"I just want to prove that they didn't break me," I cried.

So turns out maybe I haven't quite dealt with all the emotional pain associated with the Palouse. I have made so much personal and emotional progress living in Walla Walla. I have dealt with some toxic behavior and habits. I have had some intense therapy. I have pushed myself physically in ways I never thought possible. And I know that I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for there.

Maybe that's where the pain is. The pain of realizing I spent three years in a place not quite hitting the marks I know I am now capable of. Holding myself back. Hurting my own chances. It's a little bit of disappointment mixed with shame. And still, some anger and resentment that the support and love I have found here — from my bosses, from my husband, from my friends, from my community, from myself — wasn't something I could access in Moscow, a place I considered home.

So yeah, I have some emotional baggage associated with showing up there in my true, proud Pinkie self, skating my ass off, and being able to say Look at me. I did it.

Then I fell.

But, the lesson we learn in roller derby is it doesn't end with the fall.

I laid on my back like a turtle, knees in the air, screaming internally and burning physically. And then I did the most important thing of my life.

I got up.

I kept skating.

I finished the time.

And it was a little bit of a break-through moment. I can do this.

Can I get 25 laps — or even better, 27 — in 5 minutes? Yes, yes I can. Eventually I can. I didn't quit last night. I'm not quitting today. I'm trying again tomorrow.

Will I bout in Pullman on March 7? I don't know. And you know what, it's OK. I will still go, and I will NSO, and I will cheer on the incredible women who are there. The incredible women who scream and cheer and push and encourage me at every practice. I will encourage them.

And I will scream and cheer and encourage the skaters on the other team. Because we're all in this together. Our strength isn't found in proving to the world that we are capable.

It's only in proving it to ourselves.

Get back up. Keep skating. You got this.