Four weeks ago today, I ordered my new skates from Bruised Boutique. I'd gone there back in January to try on the boots I was interested in, and after trying Riedell 126s (ouch! Awful!), 265s (VERY comfy), and 495s (also pretty comfy), I decided on the 265s. I'd been planning on getting the XK4 DA45 plates from SureGrip, but while I was there, Jenny introduced me to the brand-new Avengers. They come in aluminum and magnesium, and the magnesium are a bit more expensive but shockingly light-weight. Since they weren't much more than the XK4s, I figured why the hell not.

When I got my tax return, I called Bruised and placed my order. They told me it would be 5-7 days to get the parts in and another 2 to mount the plates, and they would call when the skates were ready, so I could decide whether to make the trip to pick them up or have them shipped. When two weeks had gone by, I called them to ask if they would be ready that Saturday, since I was going to be in the area anyway, and could stop by without taking the extra four-hour trip (two hours each way). They said no, not that day, but I was next on the list and they should be ready by Tuesday.

I called on Tuesday to check in, planning on heading out there after work. After taking a few minutes to track down my order, they told me that they had the plates but not the boots, and Riedell was back-ordered but hadn't told them, and it would be another two weeks. I wasn't happy, but there wasn't anything I could do, so I went home, annoyed.

After another week and a half had gone by and I hadn't heard a peep, I asked Craig to call them, since I would be at work all day and couldn't take the time (and I also can't stand bothering people, even when I have a right to). Several phone calls later, my skates were ready for pickup, and I drove out to Nashua after work yesterday and got them. To apologize for 9 days becoming 4 weeks with no warning and no updates, they threw in some toe caps - which, it turns out, don't fit my skates. All-in-all, I'm a bit non-plussed with the service from Bruised, but all I really care about is that I have my skates in hand.



I went to the rink for a short time today to try them out. The fit of the boots is HUGELY different, and it's all for the better. They're a half-size smaller than my previous skates and made on a D/B last, which seems to be ideal for my foot. The plates aren't as drastic a change as I had expected, but they're definitely different. Slaloms and cuts are easier, and the end of my crossover stride is a little shaky. I'll probably notice more specific differences when I'm back on the floor of the bunker, since I'm no longer accustomed to skating on the polished wood of the rink, so I'm not sure how much of the difference was my wheels interacting with the floor.

Last night was a collection of good and bad. I joined the yellow stripes in their test, since I was the only blue stripe, and I took turns with them and did different skills. I passed on the tomahawk stops and jumping. I felt like I did badly on the hitting, but I didn't get a chance to ask Mars, who was administering the test, whether or not I passed before we did laps. All the yellow stripes did their 5-in-1s, and my turn came up faster than I expected. I guess I stopped counting the turns at some point.

I've heard coaches say that they'd rather have a player with heart than a player with skill, since skill can be learned. Since I can pick up most skills in a relatively short amount of time, I've always wondered which side of that saying I'd be on. After last night, I know the answer.

The Bunker where we practice is cold, dry, and dusty, and I have asthma. The first 5 laps were easy. I heard Mars yell, "Five in 50! Good!" At ten, my body was angry with me. By the high teens, I was starting to think I might actually expire right there on the track, still skating, and I couldn't imagine a way that I was going to make it to 25. I could barely translate the numbers that Jake was yelling at me. Crossing the line to end lap 25, I collapsed on the floor and skidded into the wall. My vision was blurred and I didn't even realize Mars had told me my time until I heard Craig say something like, "Awesome!"

"Huh?" I rolled over.

"Four thirty-four."

"Oh. Cool." It took me a long time to get up and stumble to the end of the track to find my water bottle and bandanna. My lungs were on fire with a pain I can't even describe. I've never run myself so flat-out before, or had an asthma attack as severe as the one I had for the next three hours.

But the test wasn't over - I still had to do fall recovery and whips. I pushed through it, taking frequent breaks for air, and passed both. Finally, Mars pulled me aside and said he had good news and bad news.

The bad news: I failed hitting. I was disappointed but not surprised. The good news: I passed everything else. More bad news: he was going to give me another chance to pass hitting.

"Why's that bad news?" I panted, ecstatic to get another chance.

"Because I'm making you work more."

"That's okay! I'm okay!" Some part of me would clearly have rather died trying than failed. I tried again, and failed again. The good news is, they don't retest anything that someone has already passed, so all I have to do next month is hitting.

I finally started going back to Wednesday nights a couple of weeks ago, and I wish I'd done it earlier - it has helped SO much with my hitting. Going back to basic technique without the distraction of a jam going on around me seems to be what I needed. The last two scrimmages have been a lot better as a result, to the point where Mars said he thinks I'm no longer dangerous.

This weekend was Get Skoold, a clinic for players, officials, and coaches. There was an hour on blocking, an hour on jamming, and then an hour of scrimmage, and I learned a lot of useful things. Chewie, Gnome, Brian, Lethe, and Craig were there too, so there were some people I knew. (And some people from POD that I recognized from their last few weeks at PVRD but can't say that I really know.)


(Photo by Greg Easton Photography)

All of this is coming about just in time, because I'm taking my level 3 test tonight. If I pass, I get the stripe removed from my helmet and become roster-eligible. There aren't too many skills on the test - not like level 1 - mostly hitting, whips and pushes, and fall recovery, plus the 25-in-5 (25 laps in 5 minutes). Then there's the written test, which I'm going to keep studying for even though I really don't need to, because I want to get the best score I possibly can. If I screw up any of the rules, Lethe (and I) will never let me live it down, since my introduction to derby was four months of penalty wrangling. Wish me luck!

As for those new skates I mentioned, I ordered them a little over two weeks ago. They told me it would be 7-9 days, and I called on Saturday morning to see if they were ready, since Get Skoold is much closer to Bruised than I am, and I figured maybe I could pick them up then. But no, they won't be ready until Tuesday, so I'm going to have to make an extra trip all the way out there.

I've been in six scrimmages now since I passed my level 2, and it's still very difficult but slowly getting better. Some nights I have more trouble with my physical game, and other nights it's the mental game. I have trouble keeping track of people behind me without losing track of what's in front of me. Mars had to shove me out of his way this week when he was jamming because I hadn't realized he was so close.

A lot of the physical game is that I need to get better at hitting and taking hits. I have been improving, but I need to improve a lot more. I know I should start going to Wednesday practices again, but I consistently underestimate how tired work makes me, and every time I convince myself I'm going to go, I get home from work and say, "Fuck skating, I'm going to SLEEP." I also need to work on my reaction times and figuring out what other people are about to do, so I can either get in their way or out of it rather than chasing them down or having them push me out of the way. Mars says I need to narrow my stance, too.

On the bright side, one thing that has improved hugely is my endurance! We did three-person push-pulls on Thursday, and for the first time, I didn't sit out a single lap. In fact, Chewie and I each did three extra laps of pushing, to do Molly's seven when she had to take a break. Looking back on the first time I did push-pulls, the difference is really amazing. Gabi and I were paired up for those, and we were both new to them. We were so winded that Clam ended up taking us one at a time, so we really only did half the drill, and I still felt like I was going to die.

Craig gave me a gift certificate to Bruised for Christmas to help me get new skates. I've picked out the boots and plates I want, and as soon as my tax return comes in, I can go buy them. I can't wait to have skates that actually fit!

Four of us took our level two test on the night of my last post, and at least three of us passed. The fourth was going to retake when she was feeling less injured after a fall, but I haven't seen her since then, so I don't know how it went. (Strangely, I haven't seen one of the other two who passed, either.) So two of us moved on to Thursday night practices. We did two nights of watching, one of which I was sick and miserable for, and a night of reffing. All the skaters rotate through the middle on a regular basis, so everyone tries reffing during the off season.

I participated in scrimmage for the first time the week before Thanksgiving. I got beaten pretty badly, which is exactly what I expected. I spent most of my time as a blocker trying to get off the floor and catch up with the pack, and I got winded pretty fast. Then I made an attempt at jamming, did pretty badly, and ended up taking a major and sitting in the box, asking for my inhaler. It was basically a whole bunch of fail until the very last jam. I'd gotten most of my breath back and decided to make another go of it, and Molly and I took the back of the pack.

The two of us apparently work quite well together! We held back Chick for 3/4 of a lap, until finally she started yelling, the sweetest words I heard all night: "Snidely, help!!" I was SO excited to have done one thing so spectacularly right.

There was no scrimmage last week (Thanksgiving), so tonight will be my second. I've fallen on my tailbone four times in the last two-ish weeks, and it hurts...I'm a little scared to fall on it again, but it's not going to keep me out of scrimmage. That's what ibuprofen's for! (And a chiropractor, if I ever remember to call my insurance company.)

Also, after keeping an ever-growing list since June, I've finally picked a name for myself: Choo-Choo Bear. (And yes, Randy gave me permission to use it. Thank you Randy!)

The three weeks following Fresh Meat night were devoted to learning the skills we needed to be considered "competent" on our skates (as in, not a danger to ourselves and everyone around us). The last Monday of the month was level testing and league meeting night. I figured they would run us through all the skills pretty quickly to make time for the meeting, but I was wrong - the test took a surprisingly long time. There were also three or four people taking their level twos and threes, but us froshies were by far the largest group.

Each of us got to try each skill three times, so that if we had a fluky moment and screwed something up, we could still have a chance to get it right and pass. Level ones consist of a whole lot of little skills - toe dragging stops, T-stops, stepping, right crossovers (they call them left crossovers, because you're going to the left, but that screws with my head), one-foot glides, single knee falls, double knee falls, four-point falls, etc. etc. etc.

They began the meeting while we were still testing, so when we were finally done, we snuck over and sat down around the edges. I wasn't too sure what to expect from the meeting, but there wasn't anything too surprising. I'm not supposed to share league stuff with other people, so I'll leave that there, except to say that my ass was numb and cold by the time it was all done.

That Wednesday, the yellow-stripes separated off and we started practicing hitting. (The levels are defined by stripes of tape on your helmet. Fresh meat are red, level ones are yellow, level twos are blue, and after your level threes you lose all the tape.) We started with wheel bumps and then moved on to hip and then shoulder hits. I got paired with Bitches, who describes herself accurately as a rolling wall; needless to say, I hit the floor more than a few times. When I came home, I curled up on the kitchen floor and begged Craig for ibuprofen.

I hurt so much more the next day than I thought I would, but after that week it got easier. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying it's easy - it's still exhausting, and it still hurts, but it's not quite as acute as it was that day.

Tonight is level two testing (and level one, for the people who didn't test last month or didn't pass). At last Wednesday's practice, we were going over things we needed to pass the test, and at the end of the night, we hadn't done running toe starts. I asked about them, and there was some debate as to whether they were on level two or level three. After someone went and looked it up, it turned out that they are on level two. Sarah said that if we showed up half an hour early tonight, we could go over them. Speaking of, it's time for me to go get ready!

I'm sitting here in the hotel room with Craig, Miranda, and Sam the morning after the MRDA championships. My head is splitting, but I really dont care - yesterday was AMAZING. There were seven bouts throughout the day, with three rotating ref and NSO crews. I was penalty wrangling, and was mildly concerned about working with a new crew, but they all turned out to be awesome. I worked the bout between Magic City and Dallas Deception, then had a break and got to watch most of the Dirty Dozen vs. Puget Sound Outcasts. I had to bite my tongue to keep from cheering for the Dozen - the men's team from my home league - because officials arent allowed to have an opinion.



After that, I worked Dirty Dozen vs. Dallas, and I'm pretty sure the Dozen would have won had they been skating with a full - or at least fuller - roster. Doing one bout with just nine skaters is hard enough, and by the end of the first, they were clearly exhausted. They actually had a brand new team member whose level test got moved up by four days just so he could join the roster in time for championships. He did damn well for it being his first-ever game - they all played well, but that short rotation would kill anyone. Halfway through the bout against Dallas, one of them got expelled on an Insubordination 7th major. I wish I had gotten to watch more of that one, but wrangling and watching don't mix.

I had several hours off after that, enough to watch Puget Sound play the St. Louis Gatekeepers, and then the Gatekeepers vs Magic City. The ref and NSO team for the championship bout was to be announced right before it happened, and I ended up wrangling for it. I'm slightly disappointed that I never got to watch the Shock Exchange play, but I took it as an honor that they asked me to wrangle for the biggest game of the day. I didnt have much chance to pay attention to the score, but at half-time there was only a 4-point difference. The Shock ended up winning over Puget Sound, but not by a huge margin.

The four of us went to the after party long enough to get dinner and a couple of drinks, but left pretty fast because they turned up their live band's sound way too loud and we were all too tired to scream at each other. Having spent my day yelling out penalties, my voice was considering deserting me anyway. All in all, the Beatdown was a rocking good time, and I'll be torn next year between volunteering and cheering.

I don't understand how I've failed to explain anything further about the derby league that I mentioned exactly once in a previous post. That was a severe oversight.

I can't remember how I learned of PVRD (Pioneer Valley Roller Derby)'s existence - it may have been one of their postcards at the rink, or it may have been an internet search for roller derby - but I emailed them and inquired about joining. I traded emails with Lethe L. Ejection, their head ref, and she told me to come to a Thursday scrimmage practice and see what it was all about.

I don't like to go into things unprepared, and I wanted to know everything I could about derby anyway, so I read the WFTDA rules before going. (Not skimmed them - read them, front to back, every word.) When I showed up and met Lethe, she asked if I knew anything about derby or had ever seen a bout. I explained that I'd never been to a live bout but had watched a couple on YouTube, and I'd just finished reading the rules.

"You read the rules?" she asked. "All 47 pages?"

"Um, if that's the length of the rulebook...then yeah. Why?"

She gave me a hug. "I love you." Apparently reading the rulebook is not as common as I had assumed. She asked if I wanted to ref, and I said no, I wanted to skate. She looked disappointed.



Since they had stopped recruiting skaters after February until the fall, I joined as an NSO (non-skating official). My job was to be the penalty wrangler, which means I'm responsible for making sure that the calls the refs make get back to the person keeping track of them on paper. Basically, I run around and chase the pack refs in circles. Since I don't get wheels, it's damn good exercise when the pack gets going.

So I spent my summer working, penalty wrangling, and practicing skating on my own. Lethe had estimated when I asked that they would start recruiting again "around September or October," so I assumed October, so that I wouldn't be disappointed when it didn't happen in September. The first full week of September, I was preparing for Marie's wedding, and I had just barely enough time around work to practice the violin piece I was going to play in her ceremony, write my maid of honor speech, and finish the selection of other little things that needed to be done. The comic got put on hold to give me the time I needed.

On Labor Day, with five days to go until the wedding, I threw out my back and had to work. I texted Lethe and told her I wouldn't be able to penalty wrangle at the bout that night, because I could barely walk, and she got me a position working the scoreboard. Within five minutes of showing up, limping around hunched over like I was 90, Craig came up to me and said, "Jen wants you to know that fresh meat is Wednesday at 7:30."

All I remember saying is something like, "Uh, duh, what?" I'd been planning to use Wednesday night to write my maid of honor speech, which I hadn't yet started as of Monday, and I knew from experience that my back wouldn't feel better for at least another 5 to 7 days. I couldn't go - but I couldn't possibly not go. For the rest of the night, people kept asking me, "Are you going on Wednesday?" I said yes, determined to make it work somehow.

I used spare minutes that I found here and there at work to write my speech, scribbling it down in pieces on a notepad and eventually finishing it on my tablet (which I read from at the reception). I took arnica and ibuprofen and convinced Craig to rub my back, and by Wednesday night it felt somewhat better. I bagged all my gear and showed up at the bunker, feeling strangely nervous for someone who'd been hanging out there all summer. I signed my life away, put on ALL my gear (something I hadn't actually done yet), and hit the track.

Sport Court is a very odd skating surface. It's simultaneously mushy, by virtue of being held an inch or so off the floor on hundreds of little feet, and slippery, because it's plastic. I fell all over myself trying to figure out how to roll on it. We warmed up, got a talk from Bazooka Joe about how PVRD works, went over some basic skills, and then watched a couple of demo jams by some of the team skaters. Spank started to ask me over his shoulder if it was all making sense, then turned around, realized it was me, and went, "Oh never mind, you get it."

And so I went from spending one night a week at the bunker to three, and I'll leave this entry here and make another one for the rest of September.

I discovered a new comic night before last to add to my regular reading list: Ada Lee Comes On! It's about a badass girl who has apparently sold her soul to the devil - literally. I won't tell you any more, because you should go read it yourself, but here's some fan art I made of Ada.

( Ada Lee fan art )

Here's a short analysis of the wheels, because I don't have the experience to write a long, intricate one: they roll good!

I'm kidding. I can do a little better than that, both technically and grammatically.

They're not shockingly different from the old ones - not enough to really change my skating stride or anything - but they are an improvement, especially width-wise. The slightly narrower width makes them feel a little more willing to work with me on front-to-back turns (I have no idea what those are actually called, but I think the technical term I'm looking for is agility). The square lip gives me a little bit less grip at the longest part of my crossover stride, but it's not major. They're a bit softer than the old ones, so it takes a little more force to get rolling, but they grip pretty well without having very deep grooves.

I think I might need to tighten them down just a tiny bit more. I tried hard to get the nuts right when I put them on, but having no experience doing it, I may well have gotten it wrong. I'll have to bring my skate key with me to the rink tonight - something I have not been smart enough to do up until now - and play around.