“How is retirement treating you?”
It’s the million dollar question – the one that derby folk and civilians alike keep asking – and I don’t have much of an answer. It’s only been a month and the league is on its annual holiday hiatus. I guess retirement is fine, so far. Maybe I haven't noticed because I’ve been busy: I had a birthday. I went to Seattle and Portland. I leave tomorrow for Phoenix, my obligatory Christmas in the desert.
I haven’t exactly stopped skating yet, either. I’ve skated at wreckLeague (wL) a couple of times, including this past Sunday afternoon. I was missing my skates and thought it would be fun to scrimmage and horse around...which it was (especially since a couple of my former teammates were in attendance). I did take a few spills, however, and there was one jam in particular where I raced through the pack and slid out on my knees, rockstar style, as I called it off. Consequently, my groin muscles have been sore and tight for the last two days. I suppose this is the biggest change I’d failed to notice since retiring: I’m not sore all the time. Now that I’m hobbling around again, I can appreciate the difference.
I’m trying to figure out where derby will fit into my post-derby world. I can’t imagine not skating regularly, but I probably shouldn’t do full-contact as regularly. I know I’ll continue to drop in on wL occasionally because, well, scrimmaging is fun, but if I did it all the time, it would sort of defeat the purpose of my retirement.
LADD honored its first class of Legends at a reception last week where those who’d been with the League five or more years were paid tribute. It was basically a bunch of old-timers taking turns at the podium, reminiscing about thee olden days when roller derby was a drinking and wrestling club, and most of us were just trying to figure out how to skate. But we were a determined and dedicated crew of rapscallions, and hey, look what we built.
The ceremony ended when the Legends stood for applause and knocked over one of the tables, sending beer bottles and plastic cups toppling. Crystal Deth and I were seated at the lower-tier table, and naturally, all the booze poured directly into our vintage purses. It was a fitting end. Oh, drinking and wrestling days, how I miss you.