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Topsy-Turvy

Almost simultaneously, I got word today that the Carle Weight Management program was closing, and read this awesome post by a league mate about dealing with medical folks about weight and health (and the sometimes conflation of the two).  That I’ve found greater wisdom and support from highly competitive athletes than I have from the so-called health professions is still something that I’m sorting through, but I certainly think it’s mixed up. But reading both of these things today prompted me to re-read, and now re-post, the following two pieces of my own (if you’ll forgive the indulgence):

The first, Ok, go, is a look in a mirror of the past, including some reflections on that medically-supervised fast & quasi-fast program that Carle runs. I said it once, I don’t think I could put the words together again and have them come out so well, so I’ll just link you there.

The second, Silencing the Little Voice, is about moving forward and appreciating exactly where you are right now. Geez, I’d almost forgotten that I really thought I was going to puke or pass out on the first night of practice in this new league.  And the next. I thought many times that I couldn’t make it another minute, thought I couldn’t handle it, that I was in over my head. Terror. I remember saying to one league mate that I had no legs left, before she sent me out to do 25 laps. Though both practices and scrimmages still present serious challenges for me every week (and for everyone, I’m sure – I have no illusions about being alone in that), I haven’t felt the drowning, hopeless, terrified feelings in a while, and re-reading this really makes me appreciate that. And hopefully not take it for granted, or the work I’ve put in to get me this far!  And even more than that, that the appreciation of the past work will motivate current and future work.

It’s easy to forget how far we’ve come — even if it’s the span of a few steps, or a few weeks. Life’s too short to hold back, and yet I know so many of us do, in all areas of life. I repost these in hopes that one or both will resonate with someone else, too.

Juice Me

Before I start, THIS IS NOT ABOUT FASTING. I believe in healthy, balanced eating, and in getting all your nutrients from real food whenever possible. And that’s where this post comes from: from a desire to get more nutrients out of real food.

Over the last year or so, I’ve really struggled to reconcile lots of ideas about a healthy eating plan (for myself and my partner) with our schedule. The amount of planning required for prep and cooking healthy food is not trivial; convenience food is convenient. And we’re often in the position of choosing what’s least problematic for a meal that wasn’t properly planned. I’m very distractable, I don’t stick to plans well, and maintaining a balanced diet requires consistency.

The idea for adding in some juices struck while I was in a bit of a cooking rut. Our meals have been remarkably grain-heavy lately, and low on vegetables.  Any ideas for getting more plant sources into our diets without a lot of prep/planning would get my attention right now. Portability would make it even better, and juicing seemed to fit the bill.

So it turns out there’s a whole new movement based on the experience of one guy who hit rock bottom with his health and decided to try to turn it around in a very drastic way:  pack a generator and a juicer into the back of a car, travel around the states, and live on juiced fruits and vegetables for 60 days.  And film it all, of course. Gimmicky and drastic, his juice fast nevertheless gave him the break he needed from many bad habits, and kick-started a long-term, healthier lifestyle for him. But after it’s over, and he’s back home thinking about cutting what must have been a very boring little film, he gets a call from this trucker he had met in Iowa, asking for his help in turning his health around. The second half of the movie is dedicated to following him as he turns his health around in a more dramatic and story-worthy way, also inspiring others in his town to eat drink more plants. Though it’s also a tale of juicing-evangelism, neither seem to advocate it as a lifelong way of eating (the movie is somewhat unclear on what either of their diets look like post-fast, though Joe is on Twitter and has a blog where he continues to report and engage on the benefits of fresh fruits and vegetables).

At this point in my life, I’m firmly anti-diet (in the “going on a diet” sense, but also in the “I’m strictly paleo” sense). I’d rather think about my diet as a way of eating instead (WOE, in the vernacular).  I’ve done restrictive, I’ve done quirky, I’ve done drastic/fasting, I’ve done obsessive, and the long-term effects of those have always been far more negative than positive. Loss of focus, loss of other healthy habits, loss of decisionmaking and responsibility if nothing else. And as “diets” with a concentrated focus on quick/er weight loss, they’re problematic. I couldn’t get 100% on board with Weight Watchers, or Atkins, or Vegan or even Vegetarian diets, either; there’s always something that chafes in the mandate of an all-knowing system. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t room for experimentation, adding and subtracting elements of different ideas about eating, and seeing how it goes. Any plan that emphasizes whole, real foods gets my attention. So I approached this juice reboot phenomenon with all of that in mind (and with the recognition that juicing eliminates something substantial from whole foods).

My goals were to increase the amount of fruits and vegetables in my daily diet; return to building more meals around fresh produce, drink more water, reduce salt, dump processed food as much as possible, and focus on nutrient-density over calorie-density. Kick-start some weight loss? Making that a primary goal nearly ALWAYS fucks with my head, and I can’t risk that right now. But yes, I know from past experience that knocking off some pounds right now will translate into greater agility on the track, so that’s not far off. Anyway.

We own a juicer already, so that part was easy. My partner and I talked about options, and we decided to create our own plan: 3 days on a combination of fruit and vegetable juices, fresh fruits and vegetables (and nuts), and some legume/grain additions for dinner and maybe lunch.  If we felt at any time like our bodies weren’t getting what we needed, WE’D EAT SOMETHING ELSE. No judgment, no rules about sticking with it, other than to be mindful of our goals, and listen to our bodies. Still, we purposely chose to squeeze this in at a time when we didn’t have particularly high energy demands; I definitely wouldn’t try this much of a change to my diet if I had a bout coming up, or even an important meeting or writing deadline, in case it affected my ability to focus. It was designed to be a short-term experiment, not a new long-term plan.

We used some of the recipes on the reboot’s “plus dinner” plan, and expanded from there. Here’s a rough summary of what we had:

Day 1 (Sunday): Carrot-apple-ginger juice for breakfast, cucumber-celery-apple-kale juice mid-morning, tomato-cucumber juice at lunch, green juice in the afternoon with a couple handfuls of nuts, and lentils & brown rice w/ steamed broccoli for dinner.

Day 2 (Monday): fruit/veg juice for breakfast, lentil-rice leftovers and some carrot/beet/cucumber juice for lunch, and beans & rice for dinner. I also had a 2% iced latte in the late afternoon, mostly for the caffeine before I had to teach, but also because I was a little nervous about whether I was getting enough protein.

Day 3 (Tuesday): fruit (ALL fruit) juice for breakfast (big mistake!), rice noodle salad (also a bit of a mistake!) w/ tofu for lunch, green juice mid-afternoon, and stir-fried tofu & shredded carrots w/ brown rice for dinner.

Each juice was around a pint or a pint and a half, depending on the recipe. I’d add water or coconut water to stretch mine, and put them in a quart mason jar to drink slowly (e.g., on the road), but my partner mostly just drank ’em all at once. They were nearly all tasty, and only the fruit juice caused any stomach upset (I think I just drank it too fast — that’s a LOT of sugar hitting the stomach that quickly). Nothing gave us any other digestive problems, surprisingly. I did abandon the precise recipes from the site after the first day, though; I wanted to customize based on what I had left on hand, and what sounded appetizing to us.  One “gazpacho” juice called for bell peppers and onions, which sounded awful… and I’d heard less than positive reviews about that one.

How were our energy levels over the three days? Strangely level. No spikes, no crashes, but the end of the first day (before dinner) we were exhausted, without having exerted that much energy during the day. We tried to get some work done in the garden, and both of us pooped out within an hour or so. I was cranky and wanted to go to bed by 7pm. Dinner helped, but only a little. On the morning of Day 2, both of us were saying that we felt much better overall, and I had plenty of energy to do a fitness class in the evening. By the morning of Day 3 I was definitely feeling more energetic and focused — a clearer, more awake morning than I normally have, for sure. But that huge morning burst of sugar in the fruit juice, plus the rice noodles at lunch made for an hour or so of low energy in the afternoon. Far from the worst 3pm-sleepies that I’ve had, but it did make work more challenging.

Maybe 3 days isn’t enough to really judge, but I’d say the changes were moderately positive.  I also didn’t closely document what we were getting in the way of nutrients, which means that I don’t know whether the juices were providing us with sufficient calories — it’s likely that they weren’t, as the amount of produce required to make double these recipes is sort of shocking. So I screwed up on that one. Next time (if there is a next time), more tracking.

cc-licensed image courtesy of pinprick.

The benefit of juicing vegetables and fruits lies in its concentration of a high volume of fresh, raw produce – – much more than you’d be able to eat without feeling ill from all that fiber. Which is a danger of juicing, of course; the juice of fresh produce is about as nutrient-dense as it gets, but it’s also calorie-dense in that form.  It’s very easy to consume more sugar and calories in a short amount of time in juice than you intend to. The body just doesn’t send the same “full” signals that it does w/ the insoluble fiber. And if you’re treating the juice as a “free” veggie, without compensating for the added calories in the rest of your diet, you could definitely gain weight by juicing.

On the flip side, it was surprising to me how many macronutrients you can get out of vegetables and fruits alone. Nibbling on salad all day won’t feed your body enough, but juicing 10x as much and drinking it throughout the day just might. (and did, I suppose, for the folks in the film). According to the site, the “V28” juice (beets, carrots, celery, tomatoes, parsley, jalapeno and radishes) has 17g of protein, 47g carbs, 540mg sodium and 340 cal. Not bad for a pile of vegetables (though the sodium level is a bit shocking, if it’s accurate).

Can you get the same benefits from blending, rather than juicing? In a larger volume, yes. You miss out on the concentration of nutrients, but retain all the fiber — which is something you want to have in some abundance in your diet. A juicer is necessary  if the concentration of nutrients is what you want. There are definitely some tensions out there between the juice and smoothie camps.

What’s next? I can imagine a number of ways to work juicing into a regular WOE, particularly as we head into summer. In the heat of summer, we often don’t want a heavy meal, and I can see adding in some vegetable juices, particularly at lunch on the weekends. Or when we’re feeling under the weather and want to boost our nutrients. But I think more than anything, juicing just reminded me how well plants can feed us, whether whole or juiced, and that our bodies don’t need so much of the other things we put in them. Increasing fruits and vegetables is still a goal for us, and this gives us a new option for adding more into our diets.  Not to mention going through the mountains of kale our garden produces in the summer.

Mechanics

I’m sort of fascinated by the topic of body mechanics, and how each of our bodies performs the same functions but in very different ways. In yoga, the teacher will remind us that everything has to be adjusted for our own bodies, and taken at our own pace. There are positions that come very naturally to me, like spinal twists, and others that seem impossible, like hip openers.  Some positions will come with some work, but I think Pigeon in particular will elude me for a very long time.

Before I took up roller derby, I did a lot of ice skating, of the serious-hobby sort: Ice dance and moves in the field, most recently, about 8 hours of ice time a week. I’m not sure there are very many things that the two types of skating have in common; I’ve found far more differences in the last couple of years than similarities as I’ve had to re-learn how to skate for derby. Ice dancing feels very much like skating from your chest and your feet; roller derby is all about the hips. But something that I used to work on with an ice dance coach suddenly occurred to me last night in the context of skating for roller derby — *my* derby skating, at least. It’s something that may come naturally to other skaters, but remains challenging for me.

In ice skating, it would be called a forward outside edge, or FOI. In ice dance, it’s part of one of the most fundamental moves for nearly all the dances: the swing roll, a FOI held long enough so that you make a giant C in the ice, while the other leg swings slowly from back to front. There’s often a lot of focus in the beginning on how not to let the swinging leg throw off your balance, but the positioning of your skating leg is really more crucial. In order to hold that outside edge, maintain a deep knee bend, and not lose your balance, your knee must be over your skate.  Not pointed in, not pointed out, but right in line with your skate, pointing in the same direction.  If your knee tends to fall “in” towards the center of your body, like mine does, you lose all your power — that knee pulls against the edge you’re trying to hold, and it feels like you’re twisting into a pretzel, leaning in order to get onto a deeper edge so that your skate doesn’t slide under you. My coach noticed what was happening, and gently pulled my knee out to track over the skate when I insisted it wouldn’t go that direction. It was like taking the brakes off — the skate just glided freely, I didnt need to lean, and weight was still balanced over the skating leg. There was tension in that hip, but everything else suddenly felt right.

So as I was warming up around the rink last night, trying to take turns 1&3 tightly with deep edges, trying once again to figure out how to build speed, it occurred to me that I was trying to get my foot to do all the work of holding that outside edge in particular. I reached down and pushed my knee out, and once again, it was like taking the brakes off. No strength to keep it there, but everything else felt better:  more powerful, more balanced, more in control of that edge. Yay for mini-revelations, and new things to work on!

So, how to strengthen the muscles that open the hips, that pull the leg laterally away from the body but also rotate the leg out? It’s probably no surprise that I have no turnout for doing mohawk/tomahawk turns or skating sideways in derby, either; all of this is connected to those hip openers in yoga that plague me.  I’ve been paying so much attention to flexibility to open the hips, I’d forgotten about strength. So more abductor, hip flexor and glute work:  fire hydrants, leg lifts, plies, and all of those yoga hip opener poses.

Roller Derby Preparedness

I probably shouldn’t admit this, but in college and grad school, if I’d gotten behind on my reading or other preparation for class, or if I’d overslept and was going to be late, I’d usually just not go at all.  That feeling of being unprepared, publicly, or at least in front of people I respect (and whose respect I seek), is one of the things in life that makes me most uncomfortable.  Maybe it partly stems from my childhood memories of heading into piano recitals with too-little preparation, but I can’t help feel like I’m letting everyone around me down, and it’s an awful feeling.

That late/behind/unprepared feeling doesn’t happen that often as an adult; I work hard to stay on schedule and not make people wait or be late to events/meetings. But it’s not just about showing up. Like meetings and classes, being prepared for derby and other sports activities requires more than just being there, on time and with all your gear. It requires planning — having spent the time beforehand, doing whatever it is that you need to do to prepare. This is obvious, of course. I wouldn’t think of coming to a search committee meeting not having read the candidates’ files, or teaching a class without re-reading the assigned materials and reading/editing lecture notes — that’s a given. But the appropriate level of preparation for roller derby sometimes eludes me.

It may be partly because it’s a moving target: One of the things I’m noticing about trying to be an athlete at 43 is that my body is just much less forgiving overall than it used to be. Less forgiving of variations in hydration, nutrition, rest and activity level, in particular.  If I take a few days off after a particularly good/hard workout, that first one back is difficult. But if I don’t take enough time off, there’s still a struggle, and I fear injury. If I’m improperly hydrated or sleep-deprived, the results can be surprisingly disastrous. Being prepared for roller derby — to me — means actively preparing in the days prior, by getting enough sleep and staying hydrated, eating well the day before and the day of practice, and not overdoing it or taking too much time away from the gym or track. Get sleep, drink water, eat real food (not too much). It’s not just a PSA. It’s like being designated driver — paying attention to this stuff has to be an absolute rule for me, if I’m going to continue to do this sport. I’ve written before about that feeling of being way behind in a pack or paceline or group run. Putting anything less than my best, most prepared self out on that track is only asking for that feeling, plus muscle cramps and possibly injury to myself or even someone else.

There’s been some research on the bodies of “older athletes”, how they recover and respond to various changes in workouts, but I haven’t run across any that set these factors as the variables (usually, they’re actually controls).  But if I listen to my body, I think it’s trying to tell me what it needs. Again:  get sleep, drink water, eat real food (not too much).

The irony is that for the last two weeks I’ve been playing personal chef for someone doing a radical nutrition makeover/reboot of sorts, and I’m really focused on making sure she’s getting fresh, healthy, balanced meals and plenty of water. I pack her lunches (and dinners, if she’s on call), and have been making grain salads and homemade smoothies like a boss. Meanwhile, I’m still picking up bbq and ice cream at least once a week (not the same day/meal, but still), still forgetting water entirely some days, overdoing the salt and sugar and losing track of protein. So… yeah. Next post: nutrition reboot!

It’s Training Time (ow!)

Because we’re in-season, and my league is a full WFTDA member now (whee!!), and it’s business time! PAST time. Time to get this body back in fighting shape — and more — and that means doing a bit of EVERYTHING. I’m pumped up, but daunted because I can’t seem to fit in enough sleep and still get my old 5-mornings-a-week schedule in at the gym now, at least not the way I used to. But I can get 3, plus derby, plus some weekend fun things, and that’ll do just fine.

Here’s what should be on the docket for a derby girl in the competitive season, assuming it’s in addition to one 2-hr team practice, one 2-hr league practice, and one full scrimmage each week:

  • 20 minutes of plyo 2x a week
  • 20-30 minutes of running 2x a week (more, if training for a race)
  • 60 minute boot camp 1x a week w/ the trainer or a similar class (BodyAttack etc.)
  • PiYo or Yoga class 1-2x a week (something for core & upper-body)
  • 20 minutes of strength training 1-2x a week
  • 20 minutes of core work 3x a week (e.g., 100 pushups / 100 crunches – see, e.g., Century Club on fb)
I’m also looking at a sprint tri or two this summer, and that means putting in some miles on the bike and in the pool, in addition to more running. Cycling is great cross-training for derby, since it works so many of the same muscles, and long weekend rides are almost as fun as derby practice. For swimming, finding a pool is the biggest hurdle (done, finally); I’d enjoy putting in some time on the weekends or over lunch when scheduling allows.

Why so long to get back in the groove again? After my stupid long fall/winter break, it felt like more than enough just to add back the two league practices each week. I was so sore the next day, sometimes even for two days after those practices, I didn’t want to add anything else until my body adjusted (and it does adjust). It’s not that I’m not sore after practice now, but it’s nowhere near as intense. While activity does help to relieve what researchers call DOMS, or Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness, my experience is that it’s easy to strain something else (like my back) while guarding those sore muscles in the legs — particularly in that first day or so when the muscles are at their weakest, So I’ve been trying to add new things gradually, one each week. After a few weeks of derby, I added a little bit of running once or twice a week, then a class, etc.

Now I’m at a sort of early-middle point in re-entering the training plan, settled into derby 2-3 days/wk and some kind of off skates workouts 1-2 days/wk, ready to take on more, but that little voice at the back of my head is going “hey, where’s my weight loss? where’s the extra room in the jeans? what the hell, body? you’re not holding up your end of the bargain!! It’s been how many weeks now, WTF!@#&*?!”  So we’ve had a little talk, that voice and I.  Because it doesn’t work that way, at least not on a 40+ year-old body. Activity and nutrition changes don’t show up immediately on the scale or the measuring tape. Or even after a month. This is the time to really kick things up, not to be looking for results. So I need that voice to pipe down and be patient for a while – a long while.

So the scheduling is obviously key here — when to fit everything in? Planning is one of my greatest challenges, and I can’t be alone in that. I’ll have great intentions, but in a normal work week, the time flies by and workouts slip through the cracks very easily.

Mornings tend to make for a stickier habit for me in the gym, and my favorite classes are also very very early in the morning, but with evening practices out of town twice a week, those just aren’t workable on a regular basis anymore (cue EXTREME sadface). So I have to go in later, and work out mostly on my own, which means I need a solid plan going in. Without it, I’m a mess and I punk out easily. Ok, that’s doable. How many days? I get home around midnight on a practice night, so the mornings after practice are pretty much out. That leaves 3 weekday mornings, and the weekends for cycling or outdoor skating. So 60-90 minutes 3x a week.

Now, what to try and accomplish in those 3 days?

I find that when I’m on my own in the gym, I’m much more productive if I break the time into smaller chunks. 20 or 30 minutes is a nice amount of time for any one activity:  running, plyo, lifting, core work, etc., so I can get three different things into one morning. Now it’s just a matter of fitting tabs into slots: mixing up different activities for variety and to get sufficient training for derby performance, not doing the same thing on successive days, and eventually trying not to do anything new right before a scrimmage or bout.

One way to deal with this puzzle is to treat it as such: I’m building a set of little 3×5 cards that are each marked with a category (e.g., plyo, lifting, core, running), a description of the exercises w/ a number of sets/reps, and the amount of time they should take. So in a pinch, I can shuffle them and pick up enough to make 20 minutes in each category. I’m sure there’s an app for that, but it’s somehow more satisfying to see them in print. All those running and fitness magazines are going to come in handy here.

Now, JUST DO IT. Set those alarms for the whole week ahead of time, program in a message or song that will make you laugh or remind you why you’re doing this, and JUST DO IT. Don’t think about it, don’t question it, don’t take the time to wonder whether you’re in the mood.  Mood is irrelevant. It’s like that poster I keep seeing around Facebook:

 

 

Group Leadership & Derby Disaster Recovery

note: this was written about 9 months ago (while skating for my previous league), and I haven’t felt like it was the right time to post until now. No names, no blames, but it was a bad, bad day. The post was still in the queue, and I can’t bring myself to delete it, so here it is.

There’s a day that we sometimes refer to as “the day that shall not be named.” It was long and difficult, and we really don’t speak about it within the league. I’m going to rip the band aid off here, though, because that’s kind of the point of this blogging effort.  And because I think there are lessons underneath.

It started months ago with the acquisition of an awesome venue, and ended in big derby girl tears.  Lots of them. And in-between, a floor laid over an ice rink that started sweating like a baby freshie on her first day of practice and wouldn’t stop. And you know what? You just can’t skate on water, no matter how much you want it, no matter how hardcore you are. And that water just keeps coming, no matter how much you towel it off.

While I’ve since grown fascinated by the phenomenon of sweaty floors over ice, the really interesting thing to me is how the whole operation of the day reflected issues with league dynamics and leadership, from start to finish.  It’s one of the more interesting things to have happened to/in our league since its formation about year ago.  I mean, EXACTLY a year before the day that shall not be named. Exactly. Yeah, our anniversary blows. And we’ll never forget it.

There’s a lot of work that goes into the production of a bout: checklists and models that can be followed, but much is unpredictable not pre-plannable. It’s not that dissimilar to producing any other kind of theatrical event, except that the “talent” in derby is also the crew. There’s little room for divas in derby. No one shows up at call time with their skates in hand, asking for their bowl of m&ms and their private dressing room. Derby girls know that to be a part of the skating, a part of the big fun days of boutfits and after parties (winning, duh), you have to be a part of the production, too.

Girls only know some of this when they join a league, of course.  We tell them even before their first practice that they’ll have to join a committee by their sixth practice.  Do they really understand what they’ve just agreed to? They know that there’s a head of the Freshmeat committee who ran their tryouts and their practices, and they see a handful of other skaters helping with that. They may observe the operation of scrimmages, run by refs and the NSO coordinator and Captains, who all seem to just make it happen. Mostly, freshmeat have to learn derby culture on their own, in bits and pieces, in conversations with each other and with the more veteran skaters. A new freshie learns that contribution to events builds social capital (or something like that), that it’s fun to be involved, and even more fun to hang with her new sisters.  But she soon learns that her sisters have pretty high expectations, and that events don’t just run themselves, and what are YOU going to step forward to take on?

The day of a home bout should be driven by a plan, but a sometimes-larger part of the day is responsive. Like a theatrical or musical event, there’s a sort of stage manager and dress rehearsals and testing of technology, all highly compressed into a half-day. Coordination of “the floor” begins in earnest, as soon as possible.  Mass quantities of brightly-colored, highly sticky tape are gathered, 200′ measuring tapes and at least 4 people put to work on marking the floor.  First the track, taping down a rope so that skaters can feel the boundary.  Then suicide seating, the penalty box, and areas where the audience can and cannot be during the bout. Backstage, there’s another buzz of people coordinating the skater areas: personalizing the space, setting out food and bottled water, and the ever-present derby bananas. All the volunteers who may otherwise be on the edge of the league’s scene, or even former skaters themselves, all pop out of the woodwork to help on bout day to put the event together.  Our volunteer statisticians and referees and even some family members come to help.

It’s a huge group effort, but leadership is no less important here than in any other area of league business.  The old joke about herding cats? Try herding derby girls. No really, try. Teamwork is great, but a bout, like a ship, needs a captain.  Only some of the people in the mass of volunteers have all the information necessary for decisionmaking, or the power to make those decisions.  Who’s the venue contact? How do we get this area cleaned up? Do you have towels we can use?! How about fans?!? And OMG can your HVAC guy do something about this M-F- condensation on the floor?!?!? Just like it takes referees and NSOs and heads of each of those groups to run a scrimmage, it takes leaders to plan a bout and run the day.

Because everyone comes to derby with different work/life experiences, leadership styles can vary widely throughout a league. Some girls will be very hands-on, specific and task-oriented, others master delegators, and still others will be cheerleaders who will encourage contributors to run with their ideas and only step in and veto when things get way off the rails (if at all). Some will be around more than you’d like; others less. Some will formulate ideas and pass them down to a group for execution; others will look for consensus or for the strongest idea before moving the group forward. Some will be healthy and others may be toxic. Balancing the need for grassroots, collaborative work and for efficiency and clear vision/direction is one of the challenges of derby — and any big group effort like this. I’m often reminded, when derby planning issues come up, of the Michigan Women’s Music Festival.  Many of the same issues and themes are at work there — strong women building something out of nothing. And yet the MWMF leadership and structure is FIRMLY established, with extremely well-defined procedures and rules and reporting lines and rules. Did I say rules?  Of course, we’re all BRAND NEW as a league (MWMF has been running since the 70s… hell, ALL of roller derby is still new in comparison!) and still establishing all those rules and procedures that will ultimately be just part of the culture that new girls accept and continue.

When it comes down to planning a big event like a home bout, ask yourselves: Do you have a plan? Decisions made prior to the day?  A leader for the day? Clear reporting lines throughout the group of volunteers? Does the leader have all the necessary information and authority to make decisions when the need arises (notice that I said when, not if — the need will always arise)? Does everyone know what they’re supposed to be doing and who’s in charge, and when to expect to arrive? Does your announcer have all the necessary information about intro songs, rosters, and the order of introducing players? While all the great relationships that you’ve built within the league will be helpful, neither warm fuzzy compliments nor derby love are sufficient to make the day run well — particularly if something goes catastrophically wrong.

When the southerly trajectory of our fateful day suddenly made itself clear to us at about 3pm, in the form of skaters walking off a floor they could barely stand on, leadership both disappeared and re-appeared quickly.  The leadership of the bout day, such as it was, were suddenly supplanted by league leadership.  With few words, the Board was gathered, went somewhere to vote, with news of their vote broken via lousdpeaker by our Bout Day Coordinator. That same Coordinator also rounded up the various people who would pick up the pieces of the day: ticket liaison, treasurer, PR, and more. There were alerts to be broadcast across social media and our ticketing site, plans to be made for refunds. And someone needed to make a decision about the league’s message and find a way to communicate it out to a group that had begun scattering, more out of frustration and disappointment than anything else. We found a cheerleader of sorts for the two hours we remained at the venue to greet and talk with fans we had to turn away. The former head coach of the visiting team who had flown back from the West Coast just to announce the bout for us, she was amazing in her strength and positivity and good humor about it all. She picked up a loudspeaker and entertained everyone while we tried to hold it together in public. These were our heroes of the day, and I still have massive amounts of respect for both of them and the way they kept it together. They could have fallen apart, gotten angry, or just disappeared to deal with their own feelings about the situation, but instead they did everything they could to take care of their community. To listen, move forward and stand tall and face whatever the consequences were. Whatever else you look for in a leader, I think this combination has to be at the top.

Leadership isn’t something you do for you, it’s something you do for your league. It’s the service you give to your league, not a gift bestowed to you, or your tool to be wielded at will. While I think many skaters “just want to skate,” roller derby is so much more than that. If you want to put on bouts, they’re going to cost money and require planning and commitment. As a leader, you have to recognize that derby is much bigger than you. Otherwise, you’re just playing a game of thrones.

2012 vs. 2011

The last year has been a bell-shaped curve for me, in some ways. Certainly my conditioning is back down where it was last year, and I’m pretty sure I’m in exactly the same clothes. But in my head, it’s a sea change.

This time last year, I was so frustrated, so unhappy with derby and my own skills/performance, but unwilling to leave it and spiraling about what to do next. I turned to the gym to “fix” me, made a sort of enemy out of my body, and spent the next 6 months mostly setting really high bars and constantly chiding myself for not reaching them, chasing after league- and team-mates who could then and will always run and skate circles around me. It wasn’t enough that I did what was asked, or that I was improving, or working hard — very hard. I found incredible pain in the unchanging view of people’s backs (when they were even in sight), and in what felt to me like constant failure. It’s a matter of perspective, of course; I was upright, skating, playing, rostered, voted captain. I was still in the game. But I felt, week after week, like someone had made some big mistake in giving me those spots.

So I hit the gym a little too hard, and wound up with a relatively minor overuse injury that nevertheless kept me from doing the half-marathon in May that I’d registered and trained for. I trained through it, but was so frustrated by the way it limited what was still such a new routine, and what I knew was an unsustainable schedule. But I pushed on. Bouts, bouts, bouts. And the combination of derby drama and derby suckage kept pushing me, making me want to hide at a training camp (yay, Blood & Thunder!) until I got stronger. I nurtured that thought often. It was scary, facing that pack every week, wondering what feelings chasing them would bring up.

It wasn’t all unhealthy stuff, though. I did find all sorts of awesome good-for-me things in that time: It turns out that I love to cycle (though not so much the indoor cycle trainer), and I’ve gotten so much out of training with a group of strong, amazing women I met through one of the local bike shops; I had a blast creating and living through MegaDay (a 9-hour training day of boot camp, running, biking, Pilates Reformer, sled sprints, treadmill hills and weights), even though it came from a not-so-healthy headspace; I still love running (slowly) when it’s good (and it’s usually better than I think it’s going to be); and I learned once and for all that I do my best when I have a coach or trainer nearby to push me beyond what I think I’m capable of. And I definitely learned that I have to stay away from the scale when my thoughts start turning on me.

Because I still see myself in two very different, mutually-exclusive ways: the couch potato and the athlete. Unhealthy and healthy, weak and strong, hidden and brazen. That duality is always there, and it means that derby is a constant challenge. Is the athlete showing up today, ready to work? And when she does, then it’s easy to lose focus on *my* goals, *my* pace, and start comparing my skills to someone else’s. One of these things is not like the other. Worst game ever.

So here we are in late February 2012. The draft was kind to me, and I’m more grateful for it than anyone can imagine. And I’m the better for a year of overtraining and a few too many post-practice sobfests. I’m aware now, if nothing else, of how much my own framing of derby situations affect my mood. I learned a bit about how to get more out of shorter workouts. I have a few more tricks up my sleeve with respect to both nutrition and training (and recovery), and I have a much better sense of the landscape of my own brain when it comes to how all this stuff makes me feel — and how damaging bad feelings can be to my training. That’s the biggest lesson of the year, I think.

So here’s to you, 2012.

May you be filled with positive powerful messages, delicious healthy food, pukeworthy awesome training, more/new amazing derby and cycling peeps, and a hell of a lot of fun.

Oh, and bourbon (of course).

Sharing: Hydration and Other Reading

Nothing’s pissing me off lately.  But that shouldn’t keep me on silent – so here are some things I’ve been reading lately related to derby, fitness, nutrition etc.

First, this piece reporting on a new study from the Journal of Nutrition that showed negative effects on mood and cognition for women who are only mildly dehydrated (1.3%). It wasn’t a study on sports performance or weight loss, but task performance. Very, very interesting.

This piece from NPR earlier in the week (Weight Loss Drugs Face High Hurdles at FDA) had me cursing at the radio more than once, in terms of how it frames the country’s weight problem.

More annoyance in the form of a call to label junk food pathogens.  It’s not that I’m afraid of a nanny state (really, where are we drawing the line here between what’s paternalistic/maternalistic and what’s not? Government has that role already. Now let’s get to the substantive objections to the legislation/regulation at hand– because there are plenty.), but I just think this is still focusing on the wrong part of the problem.  You don’t fix a dependence on alcohol by outlawing alcohol, or by figuring out how to medicate their alcohol receptors into blindness, so why are we approaching weight that way? Weight can be both an individual and a social challenge, and despite the fact that it has serious consequences for medical care, it’s not a disease you can drug up or a tumor you can cut out or stitch up, and I’m sick of hearing the medical/health profession talk as if it were.

But there’s some uplifting reading, too:

A great piece at Derby Life: Am I Really an Athlete? (from Luludemon) – on being your own kind of derby-playing athlete.

And another from the Harrisburg Examiner, If Derby Were Easy (from Kristie Grey) – along the lines of my “shut up, little voice”, and how so much of derby is a mental challenge.

And on the homefront, we’re heading into another draft at the end of the week, this time for home teams. I’m so brand-spankin-new to this league, I shouldn’t have any expectations here–nobody even knows who I am. I don’t even know the teams well enough to know where I ought to be. I’ll be content no matter what happens. But I can’t help having some hopes.

No Pass, No Penalty

So I didn’t end up making the league’s WFTDA charter / AB team, and that’s totally ok with me. Though I would love to practice with that group on a regular basis, I’m not playing at that level right now. But still — so glad I went through the tryouts, and I’ll look forward to doing it again in May or June when they repeat the assessments. The environment was demanding and pushed me to work harder, and I’m grateful for that experience.

But even more than that, it was an experience that again confirmed how great a fit this league is for me.

Something Completely Different: Just Do It

My recent posts have been driven by a certain rantiness related to body image and media messages about women’s bodies and shame: one that I could neither contain nor fully articulate. The feeling has been brewing for the last couple years, renewed every month when the new Women’s Health magazine landed in the mailbox. I could swear that it was once full of general healthy-living tips and recipes, and now it seems more an instruction manual on how to attract men. And it makes me want to retch and throw things every time I see it, because it’s really just Cosmo with the word health sprinkled throughout its pages. I continue to be frustrated by the failed promise of most health & wellness magazines/books/websites, wanting to buy something none seem to want to sell: positive messages about women’s health and fitness. I want the best of Runner’s World, Outdoors, Yoga Journal, Clean Eating, Blood and Thunder, and what Women’s Health used to be. But the ad-driven nature of the media industry makes that an impossible dream, I think.

Anyway :-/

When that Herbalife/McDonald’s image came out a few weeks ago, I lost my shit, seriously. I wanted to write about how body size/appearance and health don’t have that much to do with each other, about how we need to stop making assessments and assumptions about other peoples’ bodies, and about how the constant push of the BMI as a metric for health shames women rather than helping them; that it feeds into the same negative body image messages associated with visual media/advertising.

I admittedly ran off those rails; I’m not a health science writer, but I felt like I needed to make some reference to the arguments I was shorthanding. It’s hard to rale against these things without some specific criticism, which I didn’t take the time to make. Instead, I took a ride on the scope creep train and got lost in grumpyville. So this week, it’s back to the more familiar place of writing from feelings.

Tryouts.

Heading into our league’s A/B team tryout process this week, I was fairly sanguine — at least about my expectations. I joked that I was treating it as a sort of workshop: a chance to practice and play at a higher level, to actually scrimmage, and to be seen. As a new girl (again, sigh.), I haven’t been seen much by coaches or other skaters, and that’s a disadvantage going into the home team drafts as well. I’m a transfer with some low-level bout experience, and was just starting to find my position in a pack when I moved. But I’m not fast, and my skills and the value I bring to a team aren’t necessarily noticeable right away. I know the game well, I study high-level play, and I see a lot, even if I can’t articulate it immediately. I’m generally more comfortable on skates than in shoes and I’m a hell of a wrecking ball when I connect, but I’m still battling 40 years of conditioning not to get in peoples’ way or knock them down. I’m still learning. I listen and follow instructions in practice, but struggle to act as quickly in the heat of a jam. But perhaps most importantly: I have waited many years to be ready to take on something this intense and demanding and fulfilling, and just being able to play — at all — is a challenge and a triumph and I take it very seriously. Fuck age and weight both, this is when I’m ready. Not when I was 25 and thinner, not when I was 35 and running more regularly, but now. It is what it is, and I’m done waiting in the wings.

Life is too short not to believe you’re worthy of every opportunity that comes your way — that’s the thought that passed through my head as my body cooled down and recovered from the first tryout session. Were there moments I doubted myself? Certainly, and that’s when I’d tell that little voice where to stick it. Again and again.

Move your feet, take a lap, look what you’re already doing — revel for a moment in what your body is capable of. Then get back out there, try things, don’t think. Just push a little more, and open up to whatever’s next.

I’d intended to hold off on posting until the whole tryout process was over, but I’m not that patient. I’m going to move forward regardless of where I end up, and that’s what matters, truly.