It's not lost on me...

It's not lost on my how incredibly privileged I am.  I took the D Line bus to work and had a seat the whole way, brought a home made lunch (frozen vegetarian chili that we had prepped for days like today), enjoyed a pretty productive day with my co workers, made plans to go out in the evening.  These plans changed and I ended up heading over to the University District on a Pronto Bike Share Bike so that I could have ramen noodles (from a Japanese restaurant and not a box), catch up with a friend, see a pretty good films about the removing the dams from the Elwha River and then run (literally) to catch a #43 bus home.  I was in my neighborhood within 10 minutes and home in 5 more.  Safely.

And I could expand on this in so many ways and on so many levels but I'm not going to do that here tonight.  But it's not lost on me.  I am fortunate.  I am privileged. And I have privilege.  

Bikes!

Paris bike share!

Pronto Cycle Share debuted in Seattle this week with the kick off of 500 bikes primarily around the University of Washington, South Lake Union, downtown Seattle and some of Capitol Hill.  I easily visualized sitting at a bar like I did with iRoxy, Lara and Vic in Copenhagen watching hundreds of people ride home from work.  Or in Paris, when Lara and I walked the City of Lights, with rivers of people biking by on beige colored bikes (of course) that were part of their ride share.  That maybe a little optimistic considering the hills and dreary weather that plagues Seattle but I was excited to try it out.

Wednesday's morning downpour convinced me not to bike to work though I initially dressed in my "bike" (workout) clothes.  I unpacked my bike bags, put on my work clothes and ask Lara for a ride - which was traffic mess because no one really seems to know how to drive in the rain - and someone had knocked down a traffic light which is impressive.  My boxing gear was in my backpack so that I could grab a bus to Cappy's at the end of the day.  A sun break in the afternoon gave me a chance to run test out Pronto. I didn't understand at first that you just rented the bikes from one place to another.  You have 30 minutes to get from your Point A to Point B.  I suddenly didn't like it and thought it was kind of dumb.  I mean I needed a bike to go to Cappy's and back downtown.  I needed to be able to lock it and go to my workout. However, I found a Pronto station only a few blocks from Cappy's at Madison Market and decided I would ride up the hill from the Paramount Building and park it.  Walk to Cappy's. Workout.  Then walk back and take a bike back downtown.

It was extremely easy.  Bought a "key" for my $8/day ride, grabbed a helmet (yes - they provide helmets), adjusted the seat, put everything in my backpack and up the hill I went.  It wasn't like riding my own bike. A little more upright (good for my quads) but I shifted into the easiest gear and went up the to Madison park with no problem.  I parked the bike in the station. Deposited the helmet and walked down to Cappy's on a beautiful fall evening.  

Getting back downtown was just as easy - as it was all downhill plus I was able to grab my same bike that I had already adjusted (after grabbing some hippie snacks from Madison Market).  I was able to take it to a station two blocks further from work and got to my bus stop just in time to catch a D bus home.  So. Easy.  I decided I would be an annual member for $85.  I was sure I would easily use the bike share 10 more times this year.   

I didn't realize that I would use it again today - as I left my bike lock key at home (damnit!) and didn't realize it in time to take the bus to my doctor's appointment.  My co worker found the Pronto bike station closest to where I was going - which was about 7 blocks away - and I made into the doctor's office with about 2 minutes to spare.  Biked back to work where my bike was securely parked and biked home.  

I'm totally sold on it for my short trips in the city and around downtown - which my day is filled with many of them.  I'm sold on the 30 minute limit, no need for locks, helmets provided (tho I used my own helmet today) and what I understand will be the expanded route. 

So my idea of sitting at bar watching hundreds of people bike by will probably look like me meeting my friends at the bar where we all arrive on bike - whether it's your own bike or a bike you've borrow for just 30 minutes.

Getting back to all the art

Around the same time I signed up for the Hugo House 30/30 Challenge - I also finally decided to try my friend Connie's Art Journal workshop. To call her my friend is a bit of a stretch.  She's my friend Carol's friend from Cleveland who moved to the dessert to paint, create art and do all things creative.  I had hung out with her a couple of times and I thought she was courageous and amazing for deciding to do her art.  Her project/passion Dirty Footprints Studio showed up on Facebook and I decided to follow it.  About twice a year she would launch an art journal workbook series that you could purchase, download and follow.  I don't want to say I was intimidated - it was more that I didn't have the time - or didn't make the time for art.  I am not a great visual artist - and this isn't self deprecation.  I am sincerely just not that talented.  I like to sketch and doodle and paint but I don't have the skills to create things of depth.  I probably took two final years of art in high school before putting down my paintbrush, found objects, pencils and charcoals.  I tired again in college with an beginner's painting class that I eventually dropped.  They were just so much more talented than me and just understood the fundamentals better.  Their pieces weren't "flat" but rich and lively. I eventually turned to photography where I found a niche for sure.  Film.  Photography. Writing.  Theatre.  Those were my tools.  Definitely not painting and drawing.

This fall Connie had a free series to try out her art journal workshop.  And I decided, at the same time that I was going to do the 30/30 writing challenge that I follow and try out her workshop as well.  I bought many of the materials she suggested and set off doing the first few "classes".  It was easy and fun. (I set a very low bar for myself and the goal was to just paint.)  It reminded me of sewing.  It was creating something immediately.  It was tactile. It meant creating immediately and quietly. And I'm enjoying it.  

I'm not creating in my art journal every night.  Tonight was the first night I've picked up a brush in a week but I was too tired tonight to write and thought I would just dabble paint for a bit.  And though, like writing, I have a long ways to go with my art journaling, it's great to be exploring all of my creative self.

On my bus...

I learned, probably in a Malcolm Gladwell book, that we could have, at max, 150-200 meaningful relationships.  It's called Dunbar's Number and it had to do with the maximum number of members in social groups.  I like to think of my life as a bus, driving through and participating in some most amazing experiences.  Only 200 people can have a seat on my bus (or anyone's bus) at any given time.  This is also why I'm not terribly sad when friends fade away.  This is also who I don't consider high school, college, Peace Corps, roller derby, the greatest "time of my life".  Because then it would mean my bus had stopped and I had stopped.  My bus keeps moving along to the next adventure.  I don't like to lose friends but there is no way that they can all fit on my bus.  And as we grow and change in life, we want different people to have a seat.  I'm still friends with a few people from childhood, college, Peace Corps, when I lived in Cleveland, etc.  Though social media like Facebook has helped me stay connected with some of these folks, there's still only so much room on the bus.

I'm amazed by all the people I've met and who riding on my bus right now - just as I was amazed 10 years ago. I know a rock climbing, super nerdy physical therapist, a long time project manager and mother of two kids who run or run stairs with me anytime time. I know a handful of nerdy scientists - like real ones who work in labs, run experiments and have to go into work in off hours to "stir the soup" - and I know writer who report on that soup. I have friends that are very talented knitters, seamstresses and crafters - who not just have visions of amazing but can then put those skills to work and create murals, sweaters, collages, and games. I have friends who are compassionate doctors who manage elderly people's deaths and slightly crazy nurses who will likely save your life, friends who love dogs more than people and people who love delicious red wine and gourmet food above all else.  I have friends who have been convicted of felonies and can't travel to Canada and friends who are city cops and municipal judges.  I have a friend from third grade who I remember meeting and memorizing her phone number.  I have friends who are living with HIV. I have friends who have followed a very traditional path from school, to college to a chosen profession - whether they chose that path or not - I have friends have yet to find their path and probably never will and don't mind a damn bit.  I have friends who in are the midst of very intense career changes.  I have friends on the bus who will run a marathon with me, a silly 5k sprint, race up the steepest stairs, or hike the most beautiful trail we can find within 30 minutes of the city.  I have friends who will camp under the stars in Western Washington discussing feminist politics and believe in me as strongly as a believe in them.  I have friends who have spent their wholes lives fighting for justice from Washington state to South Sudan and back again and I have friends who don't even know what injustice really means.  I have friends who will go boxing with me at Cappy's gym and then have beers at Chuck's in the CD.  I have friends who will join at a local brewery on any given weekend, trying new tasty brews or settling into old favorites.  I have friends who have taught me how to garden in my community P Patch.

And this is just some of the people on my bus - at this moment - today.  There are empty seats and some of my friends aren't going to stay on this bus for long.  They might step off and hop onto someone else's bus.  And that's ok.  They're absolutely wonderful people.  You'll love having them as friends.

My very own bucket list...

I made my own graduation announcements on a very early version of QuarkXpress upon graduating from the University of Iowa in the 1990s.  The front cover is a picture of myself as toddler (above).  On the back is a list of ambitious goals that go like this:

On my way to an undergraduate playwright's meeting, a friend asked me what I was going to do now that I was graduating.  I wrote this:
Because I am greedy and because I am graduating, I'm going to tell you what I want:
I want to learn Portuguese.  I want to live in Brazil and master the cello.  I want a masters in Arabic and Senegalese culture and be able to do the Samba in my sleep and hit that center beat in Salsa that I always seem to miss.
I wanted to be married someday - honestly, I do.
I want to climb Mt. St. Helens again. I want to become a master chef.  I want to have my own arts center for you.  I want to give youth a voice.  I want to be forever young at heart.  I want to play the piano. I want to have a friend teach me to dance in a tight circle like the do in Zaire.  I want to visit Paris in the summer and Moscow too.
I want to teach French on Native American Reservations - there was a need a few years ago.  I want to play soccer again - every day.  I want to learn Hindi.  (I wanted to be Gandhi - but that was when I was young and didn't know anything.)
I want to meet Marisa Monte and maybe Nick Caves and visit Haiti and go to Trinidad during festival and learn Spanish.  I want to make an award-winning documentary and be a one hit filmmaker  I want to work for PBS and NPR and BBC.
I want to live with the gypsies of North Africa for a while.  I want to name the new color of a Crayola crayon.  I want to be someone's fairy godmother.
I want to be an art therapist.  I want to spend 20 years observing a primate we know nothing about.  I want to increase consciousness about malnutrition, disease, social injustice, justice, joy and hope.
I want to sleep on a firm mattress with a feather pillow under five quilts.  I want to drink lemon tea in the mornings and stay up every night engrossed in conversation about God and love and literature and dance and faint from exhaustion.  I want to live every second and not let it kill me.  I want to be able to live by the principle Voltaire once stated and that is "Change your small corner of the world and be content."  I want ethnic cleansing to stop.  I want Muslims to be respected and blacked and Latinos and the people who try every day.
I want every single person to respect at least one other single person.
I want to visit Nepal.  I want to stop the Chinese from destroying Tibet.  I want Tibetans to reclaim with culture. I want to live by the Buddhist saying "We call all choose to be awake."
And I want you to, too.

My only remaining copy is stored in a resume paper box - back in the day when you actually needed resume paper. Sometimes I'm embarrassed by its naivety and romanticism and also its greed. All the things I want and not a conversation about how I am going to interact in this world.  What am I going to contribute?  How am I going to contribute?  And I'm assuming that I would somehow be just and invited into any of these circles or any of these lives. 

But there is something kind of magical about it. I am so in love with the world.  I appreciate that none of the things on this list are easy tasks and take time and dedication, patience and understanding.  Many of them are not even things I could possibly influence or even be a part of but are ideals and desires for the world.

It is a bucket list long before there were "bucket lists".  Some of them have been checked off.  Some of them are impossible dreams.  Some of them are still ambitions and some of them are not my dreams to have.

 

Riding at night!

Riding at night is a lot like skiing at night.  The roads are empty.  The slopes are less crowded.  You find yourself going faster because you can't see the risks: no pebbles of death, no potholes, no slippery wet leaves, no pedestrians whose movements you can't anticipate.  All of these things are there - you just can't see them with your upgraded front bike light.  Not the $10 blinky light that says quietly "I'm here.  Look at me.  It's dusk." But the $50 beam that says "Oh look, that might be a pothole!  Oh watch out! Car screeching to a halt at the stop sign."  When you throw caution in to the wind, literally, you get home much faster than usual.

Be Still My Generous Heart

I find myself hesitating lately. 


Help Fund the London Rollergirls in their quest for the Hydra!

In lieu of house warming gifts, please make a donation to WA Low Income Housing Alliance... everyone should have a safe, healthy, affordable place to live.

Go Fund the funeral expenses for our youngest daughter who was tragically taken from us.

I get to the donate page, filled out my name and am reaching for the debit card when I pause.  I've tightened up my belt lately because of some debt we're carrying from our Super Fun Times Party this summer. It's not huge or insurmountable but I decided that I can't spend any extra money for a while. 

Do I do it without thinking?  Do I get something extra from it? Oh, as a fundraiser looking at my own habits, why do I hit the donate button?  Is it because it feels good to support my friends wishes for fair housing?  Because I can relate and I know how hard it is to raise money for travel?  Because those $25 donations add up to meaningful amounts?  Because it feels good to give? To be a part of the collective... impact?

It's been hard NOT to say Yes, sure, Of course. 

I'm surprised in my "you need to save your money right now" state of mind I find myself pausing and when I go to the donate button and "not now." 

All the fun

The weekend might have been all of the most fun things: ending the work week with boxing at Cappy's, enjoying a sampling of fresh hop brews at Chuck's Hop shop and trying a meatloaf sandwich for the first time at a new food truck, beverages at Hale Brewery after picking Lara up from her Friday night class, running by the airport my dear friend and lovely wifey Louise, enjoying more tasty beverages, rewatching our favorite segment of Drunk History about scientist Percy Julian, organizing an early morning derby scrimmage, coaching a new skate making progress, having our toes nails painted at Happy Nails in bright fall colors, buying cards and coasters at the new fair trade dirty hippie boutique "why would anyone shop here", sharing bites from three delicious cupcakes from Cupcake Royale, wedding adventures for Louise in Everett, off to Chuck's Greenwood for growler fills, party hats, birthday hats, baby cupcakes, amazing smorgasbord of gifts beers, a very surprised Julie at her surprise 40th birthday party, intensely interesting conversations, late night snacking to close the party down, singing happy birthday to Gary too, 2 a.m. bedtimes with no alarms set, long morning lines for delicious French pastries, leisurely walks with intense probably solving conversations in Discovery Park overlooking a most dazzling Puget Sound, grocery store snacks, 20 minute power naps curled up on the futon, meet friends at a local pub for delicious burgers and Elysian's yummy, yummy Space Dust, early bedtimes, early morning runs to start the Monday off right, Serious Biscuits for breakfast, and many, many hugs.  All the love.  So much fun.
 

 

Forty

Last night we welcomed Julie in to the 40's club with a surprise party that she was in no way expecting.  It was really just the most appropriate people and the right amount of delicious and unique beers. It was just the right amount of surprise - total surprise.  Her friends were astonished that they pulled it off. The dregs of party carried on into the wee hours of the morning.  Welcome to your 40s.  It's going to be an awesome trip.  You are going to be so loved.

Weedy came in from Boston just for the weekend to go to her friends and former teammate's wedding.  She had a great time and fulfilled her role as the "all night dancer" and connecting with people she hasn't seen for a long time and making new friends - which weddings are great at facilitating.   

Andrew came out to Julie's party, laughing and making jokes, enjoying the evening party in the safety of friends who know and love, at least once stepping away to be sad.  Andrew ushered in his 40th birthday two weeks away.  Two weeks ago his husband and partner of 10 years died. The night of his birthday celebration - also filled with just the right people and fantastic brews, Jim died.  There was a moment at Julie's party when Lara looked at me with a tear in the corner of her eye -  knowing that Andrew was loved and would be ok.  Not today or tomorrow but that he would eventually.

Boobs!

Yesterday was my first "boob smash" aka mammogram.  On a run a few weeks ago, Char Char told me the story of a friend whose kids go to the same school as Daniel (is there a shorter way to say that?), she had been diagnosed with breast cancer.  She ran into the dad, "James, how was your summer" and he relied "haven't you heard?"  She had breast cancer.  She was going to be ok.  She was going to survive but they had three kids and it was terrifying to imagine not being there for them.  So I told her I would schedule one.  And I did - for right after the Legal Voice Auction.

My mother was diagnosed with breast cancer just before I left for the Peace Corps.  I told the Peace Corps about it and they offered to move me to a site not that far away.  But I wanted to go to Cote d'Ivoire because I knew my mother would be Ok.  She had caught it very early.  She had access to great care.  And let's be honest, after all that she has been though concerning her health, cancer was not going to take her away.  It didn't stand a chance.  My mother's will power was too strong.  

However, her will power doesn't translate in to my not getting it.  Though she isn't a carrier of BRCA1 or BRCA2, there is no reason not to get a mammogram.  My insurance covers it.  My age demands it of me.  And I love and respect my body enough to do it.

Besterns!

For the Facebook phenomenon of Throwback Thursday (#TBT), a retired skater friend of mine posted a photo from Western Regionals in 2010.  This was a time when almost all of the leagues were in the United States and the country was divided in to "Regions".  It started as Eastern and Western, and then grew to North Center, South Central, Eastern and Western. Now we have division and international leagues from all over the world. The London team is one to beckoned with in Division 1.  Other European teams and Australian teams are up and coming. The first South African team was accepted into the apprentice program and the Cairo team continues to skate even with civil unrest chasing them from practice spaces.

Four years ago today, we headed to our first high level championship.  We came in as the underdog and pretty much got our butts kicked.  We played the Rocky Mountain Rollergirls and Denver Rollergirls, two teams, that continue to this day, to dominate the game.  We received a letter from the Denver coach complementing us on our game play, our drive but most of all our heart - never giving up - playing classy -  even when we were being pummeled.  It was a rude awakening.  It was an amazing experience.  I wouldn't have it any other way.

It was also the weekend where I would fly from the tournament in Sacramento to Seattle (and back again) to organize the production of the Legal Voice Auction.  I would fly back after playing two tough games on Friday.  I would fly back after busting my ACL in the last 5 minutes of the last game of the night.  I would sit on the floor and sob big fat tears because I knew I was so very injured and there were so many exciting things coming down the pipeline.

And I wouldn't change it for the world.

photo by Donalee Eiri

Creating a space...

You see them all over the internet all of the time. Google the words "30 day"... plank challenge, ab challenge, bike to work challenge, shred, squats, sober, coffee free, refined sugar free, and on and on. Thirty days.  One solid month whose name occupies the line on the checkbook, the auto fill in Word, the mm in the mm-dd-yyyy.  Only thirty days. So I signed up for Hugo House 30 Minutes a Day Writing Challenge. Just 30 minutes. Each day.

I can do a lot of things for 30 minutes.  We call can.  It's not impossible. And that's the point.  It's to get you back into the habit of making time and space for your writing. For saying "this is my time to create".  And not doing anything else in that space and time.  These are the things I am not doing right now:

• washing the 37 dishes I used to make a very delicious dinner 
• getting our apartment tidied up my wifey's weekend visit
• painting in my "art journal" - which I'm learning about from my friend Connie's Dirty Footprint Studio
• perusing Facebook
• dusting off my Twitter
• finishing up Gulp by Mary Roach

If you read about any successful writer it's because they write daily.  Just like athletes, you have to train daily, read good books, practice writing engaging sentences and weaving together stories, introducing yourself to characters that may challenge you daily, stretching your tight little vocabulary in a robust beast worth flaunting, making a space in your clutter home, your distracted head and busy life for all of this.

Making a space, like this.

Words, words, words

I've never been a good speller.  This blog is riddled with typos.  My honors thesis in college was excellent but had a gazillion typos.  Same with poetry from high school and likely essays in middle school.  My written French was actually pretty good.  I'm not sure why.  I'm not sure why I've always had such bad spelling.  Poupee, my Peace Corps site partner who was like a sister I never had - both good  and bad - was perplexed by this.  I was smart, quick, witty, but a horrible speller.  She concluded after two years together it was because I don't slow down.  I will often ask Lara to help me spell a word while I'm trying to spell it out.  And 9 of 10 times I get it on my own if I just slow down.  I move through life so quickly, trying to cram so much into each moment, millisecond,  that I don't take the time to read what I've written. Correct my mistakes. Spell correctly.  

But I care about words.  I do!  I don't want them to be spelled incorrectly.  I don't want to appear ignorant. And I've leaned, like running and playing rollerderby, you need to practice writing and exercise those muscles to keep them in shape.  You need to read to learn new words, to be articulate, to see new combinations.  Words.

I became a playwright because I didn't care about certain details.  I didn't care what color chair Melanie sat in or what she was wearing.  I cared about what she was saying and who she was saying it to - what she wanted out of the exchange.  I cared mostly about dialogue or lack of dialogue.  I wanted to capture that collective sigh or gasp when something is revealed to an audience.  I care a lot about words and images and people.  

One of my goals this year is to slow down and try to respect words a little bit more and spell them correctly.  And read more. And write too.  I'm trying to have a better relationship with words.  We'll see how it goes.

The Dirty Hippie I always wanted to be...

I am not one to post my "gratitude" online or in a blog.  I am often very grateful and feel very fortunate for what I have and the life I'm living.  Every birthday, I am grateful to have made it to that age.  I survived mental illness that usually plague young 20 year olds. Hell, I survived childhood and all of the crazy things we did like rafting in flooded streams.   I haven't gotten cancer (yet) and I'm not taking a single prescription drug.  Not one.  I have roof over my head.  I have enough food in my fridge and I feel loved. It's not perfect and there is definitely room for improvement but it's a fantastic place to be.  And I know how fortunate I am.

Last night while cooking, after having put away all of our groceries from Sunday shopping, I realized I've become the dirty hippie I've always wanted to be.  A bright modern kitchen, with matching appliances, organized spices and clearly labeled, packaged things never appeal to me.  I have a bright kitchen but my spices are bought in bulk, refilling glasses containers, sometimes with their name on them and sometime indicated by a rubber band or just a hunch.  We gave many have different oils and vinegars - and even our own homemade apple cider vinegar. Some very well known products like Hersey's coco powder and Morton's salt take up real estate as do obscure baggies tied closed with twist ties with illegible numbers or words scratched on them.  There is organic, ground peanut butter, local and exotic honeys, generic store brand cooking spray, shade grown coffee next to end of season sale Starbucks.  A pestle and mortar that is begging to be used.

The tiny bit of chaos that creates and flavors all of the homemade (following a recipe) meals in this house make me so happy. It's the person I wanted to be growing up.  A little bit salt of the earth.  Very environmentally aware, deliberate and conscious.  And I love it.

Next Steps

The dust has barely settled from an exciting, exhausting long weekend in Milwaukee but I'm excited to be heading back to the trails - running with the High Heel Running Group.

I started running as part of my ACL recovery. I had actually started running before in early morning Chris Kirchoff's Early Morning Boot Camp but it always hurt my back and heels.  I was misdiagnosed with plantar fasciitis and it wasn't until I was in physical therapy that my therapist said that my problem was that I was a heel pounder - which is why my back and heels hurt so much.  Fixing my running became yet another issue that PT fixed - that tearing my ACL taught me. (It really was a blessing in disguise.)

I enjoy trail running for many of the same reasons I love derby.  Great camaraderie with a group of gals who all have different running experiences.  Some of them have been running their wholes lives and some just picked it up.  Even when you run the races, the terrain is a great equalizer - much like the wheels on your roller skates.   It's not a team sport but still has a great, supportive atmosphere.  It's also still very DYI.  There aren't big bank race sponsors with VIP tents and swag bags touting the latest race, headband, gear, running shoes.  There aren't thousands of people pounding the trails. Often its a race director that has a vision or an idea of a great run - maybe a run he or she does often on their own and they want to share the challenge.  You make the sandwiches you're going to eat at rest station. You run one race and volunteer the next. 

You race up the hill like a bunny, in the woods on a snowy day where you're sure that unicorns or gnomes will appear around the corner.  It's pretty magical.  And it's time to get back on the trails.  I'm starting back at 3 miles... Oof. I have a long way to go.

The Oatmeal - if he had to put a running sticker on his car - it would be this one.  If I put a race sticker on my car, it would be this one as well.

Starting here.

Bombers won the WFTDA Division 2 Championship!  And we brought home a medal that somehow validated all the work we've done since 2007 - and in WFTDA since 2009.  Sometimes our setbacks were within our control and sometimes they not.  But all the hard work paid off.  All of it.  And we won by one point.  And we won all of it.

It snowed on us in Milwaukee.  It was like the Midwest's way of saying "Welcome home Michelle! We miss you."  It's like putting on a forgotten, comfortable jacket in the back of the closet.  It miraculously fits perfectly and there's even a five dollar bill in the pocket, a pin from a rollerderby team you saw play in 2009 and an old lipstick..  

Tonight's practice was fun league scrimmage, blue v. white.  I went to the penalty box like I owned the seat and didn't want anyone else to sit in it.  I was also the most relaxed I've been in probably three month and just enjoyed scrimmage.  However, since rupturing my bursa sac in my right knee about 4 weeks ago (lots of swelling, need for acupuncture, compression socks and the like) I have developed an odd relationship with my body.  I absolutely don't trust my right side.  My habit of falling on my right knee - Zombie knee - since coming back from my broken right ankle has been exhausting, frustrating and now, this third injury, distrustful. It's done some interesting things for my waterfalling (recycling to the front of the pack of skaters), it's been great for my jumping even.  It's made me fearful.  Not of falling down again.  But of my body failing to do what I asked of it.  We don't trust each other right now.   It's a weird spot to be in and it's even more strange to know you're there.

Snowpocalypse Now

The Snowpocalypse is the record amount of snow we may or may not get as predicted by meteorologist all from every news source, including the cable news, weather blogs and NOAA.   This usually happens at least once a year.  The dire prediction starts out with record something - wind, rain, snow-turning-into-rain-into-ice, snow, wind.  Classes get canceled.  People are required to chain up or avoid the mountain passes all together.  Seattleites and Western Washingtonians race to grocery stores to stock up on food, water, booze and fuel. Within hours of the initial announcement of the doom, the forecast is "adjust" and it's not 24 inches of snow anymore but 18" - still scary - still going to turn Denny into a bobsled chute - still going to close Queen Anne Hill.  People are still going to attempt to drive up these hills and come crashing down.  Every single year.  Twelve hours after the first alarm is sounded, the forecast has been reduced even more still.  Now you might have snow.  You may not.  You maybe be asked to stay off the roads - you may be given the go-ahead.

It wears you out.

The whole day my office anxiously anticipated the snowflakes.  I mean who doesn't want a day at home from work (like school!)  Who doesn't want to hang out in their house and "work" - while in sweat pants and a kitty on your lap?  So a flake would fall.  We would get all excited - this would lead to other exciting conversation.  Then the snow would stop.  Then we would be disappointed.  This cycle of expectations would go on and on.  Wash.  Rinse.  Repeat.  Snowflake.  Will there be more?  Should we head to the bus?  Oh the sun came out. 

I finally decided shortly after lunch that for my sanity and the sanity of my other coworkers I would find a very special Zen place and re-the-fucking-lax about the snow.  It wasn't happening - at least not in Seattle.  And even if it did happen, there wouldn't be enough snow for me NOT to go to work.  And you know, as soon as I went there - I stopped worrying about it and actually had a very productive and nice rest of the day. 

I would still love to wake up to SNOWPOCALYPSE.  But I'm not holding my breath (though my fingers are still crossed.)

My comeback at the start of Season Five...

"You are absolutely brilliant! I am in awe of your prowess and I'm so glad to see you back at better than 100%" one of my teammates texted me at the end of Jet City Rollergirls Season 5 opener this weekend.   I was thrilled by my performance in my first regular season bout since 2010.  Though I had been back form my ACL injury for 6 months, I was missing my confidence and strength. My decision to not skate for the travel team at this time (due to work) gave me another opportunity to just focus on my recovery.  I had so much to prove this weekend - to myself.  And to my team.  2011 was not my ending - was not the one I had scripted for myself.  I learned an incredible amount watching from the sidelines and I was out to prove that I was still a force to be reckoned with.  

The starts of Season 5 was much like the start of every other season.  There were a few missteps in getting things rolling as we tried to remember how things were done the year before when we rolled up the floor for the last time in June.  While volunteers and skaters busied themselves getting the floor set up, I hung up sponsor posters, set up tables, helped Ivana with ticketing.   Just as we were finishing laying out the floor, the cold rain that had accompanied us up to Everett turned to fat snowflakes blanketing just about everyone and everything.  Then doubt started sinking in.  We were there.  We would make sure derby happened but would our fans come?  Would we filled the seats?  Would we kick of Season 5 with as much energy and enthusiasm as we did with Season 4?  In the snow novice Pacific Northwest, weather like this creates panic.  We texted; we Facebooked; we let everyone know that we would be there to skate and they should join us.

And they did!  We had a great crowd for our two bouts which were absolute nailbiters!  The Pistols and Harem bout came down to the wire as did the Carnie and Hula bout.  A local derby writer, who has seen more bouts than just about anyone I can think of, said these may have been his favorite bouts ever.   It was "epic" - truly.  The Carnies were down by a few points at the half and dipped down to a twenty point deficit.  The time outs were called at the right times.  We kept a cool bench for the most part.  At half time we made some changes.  What we needed to do to break up their walls and force on offense.  (I had mostly jammed to this point and would throughout the second half.  And though I wasn't always lead jammer - I always got out of the pack (thanks blockers) and was able to force the jammer to call it off.  And in spite of my injury, I was able to retain my characteristic stable jamming - I just didn't get knocked down that often.  I managed to pull off an amazing whip off our smallest blocker and sailed through on one foot.  It was awesome.)

At one point, Audrey threw away the line ups and made up two killer lineups that pulled us into the lead - barely.  But when it came down to the last jam we were in a bind that we hadn't been in a long time - we had only two skaters on the track - the jammer and one blocker.  Three blockers in the box - with one coming.  A gaggle of small errors lead us to this point and our goose was cooked as our jammer went to the box doing her best to stop the opposing jammer.  I lost my cool for a minute - I forgot how much I hated to lose - especially after working this hard as a team.  And though it stung - it wasn't as bad as it was in years past.  We were in a positive place. Our mistakes were recognizable.  We were close and cohesive.  The crazy chair was minimally occupied.  I got mad.  Got over it and skated our high-fives.  It felt so incredible to be back.

*punk rocker snowman with snow bunny in my neighborhood.  He is what greeted us when we aborted our plans to go to Columbia City for brunch with Arson.  We settled for yummy breakfast on Phinney with punk rockers.

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Rawr!

Pow!  2012 has come in like the roaring dragon that it promises to be this Chinese New Year.  Earlier this week Governor Gregoire announced her support for marriage equality and today there was a press conference were a handful of representatives and other community members announce the Reproductive Parity Act and their support for it.  Many months at the end of 2011 were spent building up to these moments.  It's exciting, exilerating and completely exhausting.  And this is only week one.
 
(Picture of the full moon tonight - like a little present for getting through the week.)

Believing again and again...

Tonight's scrimmage was not the Carnies' most shining moment.  It wasn't the worst we've been either - not by a long shot.  We all left the floor still liking each other, not nearly frustrated enough but a little bit clueless about what to do.  It was also the first time we had all been together since break.  I raced home to find this quote and repost it to my team - because I believe it.  Because I believe if you try hard enough, with the right spirit and strength - you can not lose.

"In the end, it's extra effort that separates a winner from second place. But winning takes a lot more that that, too. It starts with complete command of the fundamentals. Then it takes desire, determination, discipline, and self-sacrifice. And finally, it takes a great deal of love, fairness and respect for your fellow man. Put all these together, and even if you don't win, how can you lose?"- Jesse Owens

I play for the the league's least winning team.  I play but I keep coming back. I keep coming back because in spite of the crazy, the frustration, the losses, our team spirit is very strong.  We actually like each other.  We respect each other.  We care for each other.  And that makes you want to come back.  We may need to push each other a bit more (and some of us may need to look in the mirror before we throw that stone at that glass house) but the spirit is just right on that team.
And that's what keeps me coming back.

I have faith that we will get it together in the next week to put on a great game and give the Hulas a run for their money.  I also found my rose colored glasses.  (I hope they still fit, they've been misplaced for a while.)