Thursday, September 24, 2009

Get your roller derby on!

I am SO incredibly in touch with my inner child. So much that there may not exist an outer adult.

Ten thirty: roller skating rink
Twelve thirty: hot dog break
Three thirty: leave to get haircut.

Yes, I'm a speed freak. Not the stuff you brew up in a spoon with a lighter, but the whoosh-whoosh kind. Roller blades are my kind of thing. They're even better when you can stunt just enough to look decent. It only took three hundred laps for me to remember that I know another way to go around corners (crossing one foot over the other)!

The excitingness of clever, speedy cornering kept me entertained for a few more laps, UNTIL I remembered that I can crisscross my feet while traversing the straight, right over left...ooh, AND left over right (though I think my pelvis is retwisting and I should probably start sucking up to my osteopath for a remedial massage or fifty).

Oh! The joy of turning and then skating backwards (continuing in the same direction) cannot be underestimated. And the funky move where you crouch, one leg extended in front, and just navigate with your rearmost wheel. If you understand that at all from my description, you're psychic!
(Dear hubs, we TOTALLY have to find another abandoned carpark and get our skate on.)

Substitute hubs and I gained a little fan club begging us to teach backward skating and the funky heel manouvre, which was sweet.
I'm only missing two patches of skin (wheeee! Wristguards are the best when you plant and skid on them!): one elbow and most of my right hip (tights+friction= holey tights & missing skin). Ow.

At least I earned my battle scars in a fairly spectacular wipeout speed skating. Tripping and splattering to avoid a kid twisted my right shoulder quite nicely. I should have hit them. Hey, kids BOUNCE! I went splat, sliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide CLUNK.

And then got up very quickly, because when you spring enthusiastically to your treacherously wheeled feet, IT DOESN'T HURT. Yeh. Uh-huh. Whoever thought THAT was a liar.

Total activity today: rollerskating approx 4 hours, dashing to bookshop and haircutter, swing class 1.5 hours, Matt Rooney gig about 2 hours.
If I don't sleep for more than four hours tonight (this morning) someone is going to die. Possibly me. OOh, and I have one more injury to add to the list (acquired while dancing): one very gory big toe. I guess I flicked the nail back quite a long way against the sole of someone's shoe. It's throbbing gently now. Throb. Throb. Throb. Throb. I think it's time to sleep. Who wants another piece of poetry tomorrow? (Well, it's that or my inane, sleep-deprived rambling... although I suppose I could post both.)

2 comments:

suzukisinger said...

Hilarious. Hilarious

"get your ......on" is totally reminiscent of scrubs and THE TODD.
Oh how we loved that show.....

Linda McIver said...

oooh, scrubs! How could they have killed it? Wonderful show. Wonderfully weird. :-)

Yes please, more poetry. And I hope you got lots of sleep, because I don't want to die!