bekka

lens love + derby

 

Just gotta crow about my new lens. It arrived yesterday. I ordered it from B&H. It's an 85 mm f/1.8. Waited until this evening to try it out. So here are three quick shots.

 Elsa sitting on Ian's lap in the kitchen. Not the best shot, but quick and dirty.

Roxy

Oranges

Anyway, I really wanted an 85mm f/1.4 or f/1.2. I forget which, now. But those lenses are about $2,000 each. Mine is a fraction of the cost. Whew. Obviously the price made my decision a no-brainer, but also after reading how great it was for sports that sold me on it. 

 

You see, taking roller derby photos is difficult. This shot is from the Greeneville Derby Dames (SC) vs. Little City Rollergirls (TN) bout at the Appalachian Fairgrounds in Gray, Tn. on May 8, 2010. Having and using a flash might help, but I prefer not. Some folks take excellent derby photos, but mine are disappointingly unfocused. Could also be the difference between a Canon 40D and my lowly Rebel XTi. 

This weekend is Honky Tonk Stomp 4, where all the WFTDA leagues fight it out for the title of state champion. I'm going and am thrilled my new lens arrived just in time to go with. Hope to fill you in on the details Monday and share photos taken with new lens!

By the way, I've set up a portfolio site at carbonmade. You've probably seen most of the photos here, but the portfolio site is one small step on  my road to working regularly as a paid photographer. 

that fat girl vents

The second fresh meat practice dinged my ego and returned me past GO and straight back to grade school (JAIL).

It's not something that like, normal slender girls ever experienced. The dripping of sweat, the weariness in your bones, and the sinking feeling that yes, you will be picked last for the team because nobody wants your fat ass to slow them down because you're clumsy and slow to pick up on moves.

I grew beyond that because I made the volleyball team in high school. I was somewhat successful at golf and horseback riding as an adult. I didn't pick them up quickly, but the learning curve was much less steep than roller derby. Then too, as an adult, I approach almost every new endeavor with this expectation of perfection. We fear failure and have performance anxiety. Remember when I had my accordion recital? Linda explained that theory to me then, and it's something that I try to keep in mind with every new endeavor.

So tonight I hoped I'd shine, but instead I sweated. I wobbled. I was so slow at drills that I was the last one going. Everyone was waiting on me. All twenty-something of them stood and watched my poor turtle ass shuffle sideways from one baseline to the next. They rested and as soon as I reached the baseline the coach barked for us to go again.

Several times I really wanted to quit. Somehow I convinced myself not to with one of those internal dialogs.  Because that's what I did as a child. I gave up. Nobody encouraged me. Nobody cared whether I played or quit. Earlier today I asked Ian if he thought I could make the team. He said yes. It's good that he believes in me.

Roller derby practice reminds me of hiking and camping. In theory it's a great thing. I'm outside in the fresh air, with the greenery surrounding me, the wind blowing through my hair. But the reality sucks. While I slog through the mud my mind chants how much I hate this and why am I doing this and I'll never do it again. They say the same thing about childbirth, but my water broke. I had no contractions, felt no pain, and was wheeled in for my c-section. I was ready to have another an hour after Elsa was born.

I grew up and healed the emotional wounds I sustained as a child from being the last one picked for kick ball or dodge ball or whatever game we were forced to play together during recess or physical education. I've always had a major mind body split. I focus more on my mental side because that comes naturally. What I experienced as a child didn't matter anymore.

Until tonight. And it's like ripping a scab off. Except the scab healed decades ago. Bad metaphor. I'm tired. I can't think of a better substitute.

I hate being back in that emotional place where I'm the sweaty girl who drips all over everything. Where I'm the fat girl who can't keep up. Who trips and falls and skins her knee. Who fakes a faint spell and drags herself into the locker room to get out of running laps in phys ed.

Crikey, I've even forgotten to bring my inhaler along to practice. What am I thinking? 

Anyway. I'm bone tired. I can barely stand up, stand straight because my muscles are atremble. My back hurts. My head/hair is soppy wet. not a pretty picture.

I hope this is all the complaining I'll do. I know what I have to do: Get down to my basement and practice those drills so that they're second nature. Keep my center of gravity low. Make my core and hips the central receiving and shipping center, so to speak. Practice ploughs. I want to skate too fast and have issues with stopping. 

The list goes on.

Now I know why the kneesocks: You wear them so you don't get rink rash on your shins. One of the derby athletes took one look at my knee pads and told me they were crap. I wore a skort, because I hate shorts. 

Fat girls have hateful relationships with shorts. They ride up and gather in the crotch like ants marching toward the potato salad. And the shorts underneath my skort rode up. Ugh. And so all the sweating that I did made my inner thighs stick together (is this TMI?) and so by the time that we got at actually skating around and doing crossovers, I couldn't do them because my sweaty inner thighs stuck together and prevented me from executing the move perfectly. Plus, I was freaking bone weary from all the practice drills and was wobbly from exhaustion.

Remember, this post is called "that fat girl vents." I'm almost done. So I figure that I played an important role tonight. I was the girl that everybody else looked at and thought, "I'm so glad I'm not her. I'm so glad I'm not last." Maybe that's worth something.

So that's one positive. Learning the knee drops was fun. Also, I did okay at walking and running on my tip toes in my skates. I did okay at skating in formation, except for wanting to go too fast. I was more flexible than a lot of the others when we were cooling down. Oh, and my favorite derby player on our local team talked to me and gave me tips on how to improve. Can you saw derby crush?

So the other difference between now and then is that I have a bit of heart. Not a lot, but just enough to get me through. It seems like there are a a lot of women who haven't made the team who keep coming out for fresh meat. And they're all heart. And great role models.

more derby details

A few details I left out from yesterday's post about my hearting roller derby: I was scared. I arrived early and got suited up. Then I warmed up by skating a few laps around the floor. This feeling came over me. It was nervousness. 

What if I tanked completely? 

What was I doing out there?

Then as the regular team members entered the rink I slowed and kept out of the way and was rather put in my place. I'm not terribly steady on my quads. I'm not as good a skater as I want to be. But I usually out-skate all the other adults who come to skate with their children on Sunday afternoons and week nights. 

That's some consolation, right?

After leaving practice I went to my mom's house. She was watching Elsa while Ian slept--he'd worked third shift and needed his sleep. Plus, it was my papaw's 82nd birthday party and I was late. Already sacrificing family for roller derby, is that the way of it?

My Aunt Donna met me at the door and asked me where I'd been. I told her trying out for the roller derby. She's almost 60 and her response was "Shut up!?" Then she told me how she dreamed of playing roller derby in the 1960s and 1970s but that she only got to watch it on television because there were no leagues around here (or there, she lived in Ohio for a bit, too). She demonstrated the best way to use your elbows to knock someone in the face, etc. 

So maybe she'll come to the next local bout and get to see it in person. I told her she should come to fresh meat. She laughed. So I told her that my friend said there was a 60-year old woman who came to fresh meat a few times several months back. Donna is 58 or 59, so she's still young enough. And she's a hell-raiser, too. She's perfect for derby. Maybe if I work on her, she'll come practice. And we might be the first/only aunt-niece roller derby athletes. 

I explained to her about the local derby being flat track. What she remembers is the banked track and the fear/excitement when one of the players went over the rails. My uncle Donald, her brother, said if I played on the team he'd come to the bout and film me.  I cautioned them not to get their hopes up too soon.

But, the FM coach said the goal was to get our skills up to par so that we could possibly play in September. 

Another thing I forgot to mention was that we bought Elsa her first pair of roller skates two months ago. They're the expandable ones that go over the shoe and have velcro closures. She has a helmet and knee/elbow pads, too. She loves her skates and tries putting them on as often as possible, but then when we work with her on learning to skate she's not so interested. Three to four minutes is her limit.

Admittedly, it's slightly crazy to have her skating so soon. But after watching Blood on the Flat Track instantly on Netflix and hearing the story of those sisters.... well, I was convinced. I don't remember their names, but their mom was into skating, maybe owned or managed a skating rink. And so the girls were on skates as soon as they could walk, but somehow tethered to a walker. They went to on win tons of speed skating competitions and then eventually became roller derby athletes. 

What's so awesome about the movie, besides it being about roller derby, is that I watched them do leg whips. If you've never seen one before, you're missing out.
 

i heart roller derby

After several months of getting my track legs, I showed up this afternoon at our local skating rink to join the other women wanting to play roller derby. 

One of my friends/colleagues is fresh meat and ever since she got interested in the sport, I was a little green with envy. First, I recalled how much I loved roller skating at at Skate Inn on Saturday afternoons. I won't tell you what music they played then, cause it would really date me. And then Ian and I have skated almost every chance we got on Sunday afternoon or Tues, Thurs, or weekend nights. We love attending bouts and my dad came along to the last local one. 

He said, "If I was under forty and female, I'd try out." My dad is so super cool. Sigh. 

The bouts are fabulous. You hate it for the skater when they smack onto the concrete floor or fly five feet and then smack. But it's delicious. I find it appealing in the same way that I enjoyed the only professional wrestling match I attended: The athleticism amazes me.

I suited up in my skates, my riding helmet sans visor, and strapped on knee pads, elbow pads, and wrist guards. I don't have my mouth guard yet. Then I glided out to the floor. I'd mastered the T-stop a few months ago, but I can't plough for shit. And I really want to do that hockey stop/turn.Someday. 

And skate backwards. I never learned to do that. It's not really part of flat track derby, but I'll work on those skillz  'til I got 'em.

To make the team you have to go around the track 20 times in five minutes. I went around 23 or 24. So I made the first cut. But, that's all I had. I love to skate fast and skate hard. All that other stuff, the drills where you squat and weave and all...I'm so bad. I felt like a fraud. I got speed, but that's about it. 

Tomorrow night is another practice. I bought a proper skating helmet, a half-dozen pairs of padded athletic socks, and volleyball kneepads, which you wear under your regular knee pads for double the pleasure.

We bought skates in March from Sin City. Ian loves skating too. If his job allowed, I'm sure he'd sign up to become a ref. 

So that's what I'm into. I'm exhausted. I have a big bruise on my shin from hitting a seat twice when I didn't stop in time. Oh, and I sweat like a wildebeest. It was dripping off my ponytail. The sweat embarrassed me. So did my goofiness going through the skills testing. I attribute it to my fast time around the track. I put all my effort into that and had no oomph in reserve for later. 

Hope to share photos soon.